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THE DREAMER The boy sat with his back to a rock, his knees drawn up and clasped within fingers nervously interlocked. His eyes were fixed upon the great stretch of landscape below, shadowy now, and indistinct, like a rolling plain of patchwork woven by mysterious fingers. Gray mists were floating over the meadows and low-lying lands. Away in the distance they marked the circuitous course of the river,... more...

TROTTING COB "Hi—hey—hold up there, mare, will you? What did you say, mister? A light? Yes. That 's Trotting Cob, that is. The missus 'll give us a cup of tea, but that's about all. Devil fly away with the mare. What is it? Something white in the road? Water by ——. Thank the Lord, they Ve had plenty of rain this year. But they do say there's a ghost hereabouts—a... more...

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hilst you were sleeping, little Dear-my-soul, strange things happened; but that I saw and heard them, I should never have believed them. The clock stood, of course, in the corner, a moonbeam floated idly on the floor, and a little mauve mouse came from the hole in the chimney corner and frisked and scampered in the light of the moonbeam upon the floor. The little mauve mouse was particu­larly... more...

by: Anonymous
A LITTLE MOUSE THAT BUILTITSELF A HOUSE IN ACHRISTMAS CAKE. A PRETTY story I will tell, Of Nib, a little Mouse, Who took delight, when none where near, To skip about the house. Her little nose could sniff and smell Where all good things were kept, And in the pantry well she knew That mistress Pussy slept. But, notwithstanding, in she crept, And on the shelf she found A Christmas cake, the top of which... more...

Chapter I In the month of June, 1919, I received a long letter from Brigadier-General Andrew Lackaday together with a bulky manuscript. The letter, addressed from an obscure hotel in Marseilles, ran as follows:-- MY DEAR FRIEND, On the occasion of our last meeting when I kept you up to an ungodly hour of the morning with the story of my wretched affairs to which you patiently listened without seeming... more...

by: John Muir
CHAPTER I THE SIERRA NEVADA Go where you may within the bounds of California, mountains are ever in sight, charming and glorifying every landscape. Yet so simple and massive is the topography of the State in general views, that the main central portion displays only one valley, and two chains of mountains which seem almost perfectly regular in trend and height: the Coast Range on the west side, the... more...

THE RIDGE TRAIL Six trails lead to the main ridge. They are all good trails, so that even the casual tourist in the little Spanish-American town on the seacoast need have nothing to fear from the ascent. In some spots they contract to an arm's length of space, outside of which limit they drop sheer away; elsewhere they stand up on end, zigzag in lacets each more hair-raising than the last, or fill... more...

FOREWORD. Every summer there is demand for illustrated literature describing the mountain variously called "Rainier" or "Tacoma." Hitherto, we have had only small collections of pictures, without text, and confined to the familiar south and southwest sides. The little book which I now offer aims to show the grandest and most accessible of our extinct volcanoes from all points of view.... more...

THE MOUNTAIN SPRING And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.—Revelation 22:17.I wandered down a mountain road,Past flower and rock and lichen gray,Alone with nature and her GodUpon a flitting summer day.The forest skirted to the edgeOf Capon river, Hampshire's gem,Which, bathing many a primrose ledge,Oft sparkled like a diadem.At length a... more...