CHAPTER I For half an hour there had been perfect silence in the room. The cat upon the hearthrug slept profoundly; the fire was sunk to a still red glow; the cold light of the autumn afternoon thickened into dusk. Lilian seemed to be reading. She sat on a footstool, her arm resting on the seat of a basket-chair, which supported a large open volume. But her hand was never raised to turn a page, and it... more...

DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES I have eaten your bread and salt,I have drunk your water and wine,The deaths ye died I have watched beside,And the lives that ye led were mine. Was there aught that I did not shareIn vigil or toil or ease,One joy or woe that I did not know,Dear hearts across the seas? I have written the tale of our lifeFor a sheltered people's mirth,In jesting guise—but ye are wise,And ye... more...

GREETINGShake, Pard! I'm mighty proud o' you!(I'm know'd as "Yukon Bill");You blazed th' trail an' blazed it true;——Some o' my friends I see y' knewOn old Che-cha-ko Hill;But say, old man, y' clean forgot my friend, "Swiftwater Bill!"You was a kid in pettic'utsWhen I went in, a man;Grub-stakin' with two other goats——We... more...

Dere Mable Love Letters of a Rookie Dere Mable: I guess you thought I was dead. Youll never know how near you was to right. We got the tents up at last, though, so I got a minit to rite. I guess they choose these camps by mail order. The only place there flat is on the map. Where our tents is would make a good place for a Rocky Mountin goat if he didnt break his neck. The first day the Captin came out... more...

John Sabo, second in command, sat bolt upright in his bunk, blinking wide-eyed at the darkness. The alarm was screaming through the Satellite Station, its harsh, nerve-jarring clang echoing and re-echoing down the metal corridors, penetrating every nook and crevice and cubicle of the lonely outpost, screaming incredibly through the dark sleeping period. Sabo shook the sleep from his eyes, and then a... more...

CHAPTER I IN THE BURNING BREAKER "Fire! Fire in the breaker! Oh, the boys! the poor boys!" These cries, and many like them—wild, heartrending, and full of fear—were heard on all sides. They served to empty the houses, and the one street of the little mining village of Raven Brook was quickly filled with excited people. It was late in the afternoon of a hot summer's day, and the... more...

Chapter I. 'Nothing fills a child's mind like a large old mansion; better if un- or partially occupied; peopled with the spirits of deceased members of the county and Justices of the Quorum. Would I were buried in the peopled solitude of one, with my feelings at seven years old!'—From Letters of Charles Lamb. To attempt a formal biography of Derrick Vaughan would be out of the... more...

One September afternoon in 1751, towards half-past five, about a score of small boys, chattering, pushing, and tumbling over one another like a covey of partridges, issued from one of the religious schools of Chartres. The joy of the little troop just escaped from a long and wearisome captivity was doubly great: a slight accident to one of the teachers had caused the class to be dismissed half an hour... more...

Examination of softshell turtles allied to Trionyx muticus from the southeastern United States discloses the presence of an undescribed subspecies inhabiting river systems of the Gulf Coast. The author is indebted to Mr. Roger Conant for constructive criticism of the manuscript. I am grateful also to many fellow students for assistance in field work or for other courtesies, especially William E. Brode,... more...

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