MARCH Early in the gray and red dawn of a March morning in 1883, two wagons moved slowly out of Boomtown, the two-year-old "giant of the plains." As the teams drew past the last house, the strangeness of the scene appealed irresistibly to the newly arrived immigrants. The town lay behind them on the level, treeless plain like a handful of blocks pitched upon a russet robe. Its houses were... more...

The inducement to be sympathetic in writing a preface to a book like this is naturally very great. The authoress was of Indian blood, and lived the life of the Indian on the Iroquois Reserve with her chieftain father and her white mother for many years; and though she had white blood in her veins was insistently and determinedly Indian to the end. She had the full pride of the aboriginal of pure blood,... more...

ACT I It is half-past nine of a July evening. In a dining-roomlighted by sconces, and apparelled in wall-paper, carpet, andcurtains of deep vivid blue, the large French windows betweentwo columns are open on to a wide terrace, beyond which are seentrees in darkness, and distant shapes of lighted houses. On oneside is a bay window, over which curtains are partly drawn.Opposite to this window is a door... more...

PREFACE THE immense popularity which Bergson's philosophy enjoys is sometimes cast up against him, by those who do not agree with him, as a reproach. It has been suggested that Berg-son's writings are welcomed simply because they offer a theoretical justification for a tendency which is natural in all of us but against which philosophy has always fought, the tendency to throw reason overboard... more...

I.   A fluttering bevy left the gate  With hurried steps, and sped away;  And then a coach with drooping freight,  Wrapped in its film of dusty gray,  Stopped; and the pastor and his mate   Stepped forth, and passed the waiting door,  And closed it on the gazing street.  "Oh Philip!" She could say no more.  "Oh Mildred! You're at home, my sweet,—  The old life... more...

CHAPTER I ON THE TERRACE AT SHENSTONE Three o’clock on a dank afternoon, early in November. The wintry sunshine, in fitful gleams, pierced the greyness of the leaden sky. The great trees in Shenstone Park stood gaunt and bare, spreading wide arms over the sodden grass. All nature seemed waiting the first fall of winter’s snow, which should hide its deadness and decay under a lovely pall of... more...

FOREWORD The tradition regarding Jesus is so glamorous that it is difficult to review his life and character with an unbiased mind. While Fundamentalists and Modernists differ regarding the divinity of Christ, all Christians and many non-Christians still cling to preconceived notions of the perfection of Jesus. He alone among men is revered as all-loving, omniscient, faultless—an unparalleled model... more...

Jimmy watched the Natchez Belle draw near, a shining eagerness in his stare. He stood on the deck of the shantyboat, his toes sticking out of his socks, his heart knocking against his ribs. Straight down the river the big packet boat came, purpling the water with its shadow, its smokestacks belching soot. Jimmy had a wild talent for collecting things. He knew exactly how to infuriate the captains... more...

CHAPTER I THE RETURNED TRAVELER "Gentlemen, this is America!" The speaker cast upon the cloth-covered table a singular object, whose like none of those present had ever seen. They gathered about and bent over it curiously. "This is that America," the speaker repeated. "Here you have it, barbaric, wonderful, abounding!" With sudden gesture he swept his hand among the gold coin... more...

CHAPTER I MISTRESS AND AGENT The lady of Thorpe was bored. These details as to leases and repairs were wearisome. The phrases and verbiage confused her. She felt obliged to take them in some measure for granted; to accept without question the calmly offered advice of the man who stood so respectfully at the right hand of her chair. “This agreement with Philip Crooks,” he remarked, “is a somewhat... more...