CHAPTER I. ANTECEDENTS.The child is father to the man;And I could wish my days to beBound each to each by natural piety. Wordsworth. A few preliminary pages of personal history I offer to those who followed me either in thought or deed during the Anglo-Boer War. My ancestors were Germans; my grandfather was born in the South. About the year 1820 he, along with two brothers, bade farewell to the land of... more...

ANTHROPOLOGY,AS A SCIENCE,ANDAs a Branch of University Education. What Anthropology Is. Man himself is the only final measure of his own activities. To his own force and faculties all other tests are in the end referred. All sciences and arts, all pleasures and pursuits, are assigned their respective rank in his interest by reference to those physical powers and mental processes which are peculiarly... more...

Once in a generation the intimate and vital secrets of a great nation may be made public through one of the little circle of men to whom they are entrusted; but rarely, if ever, till the men are dead, and the times are entirely changed. Beginning next month, McClure’s Magazine will present to the reading world a striking exception to this rule. It will print for the first time a frank and startling... more...

Mr. Punch, on the strength—or, rather, length—of a Message from President Pierce, visited her Majesty Queen Mab. He was received by a most courteous Dream-in-Waiting, who introduced him through the Gate of Horn, whence, as Colonel Sibthorp beautifully remarks,"Veris facilis datur exitus Umbris."Dream-World was merrily keeping its Yule-tide, with shadowy Sports and dissolving Pastimes. As... more...

RIP VAN WINKLE The story of Rip Van Winkle, told by Irving, dramatized by Boucicault, acted by Jefferson, pictured by Darley, set to music by Bristow, is the best known of American legends. Rip was a real personage, and the Van Winkles are a considerable family at this day. An idle, good-natured, happy-go-lucky fellow, he lived, presumably, in the village of Catskill, and began his long sleep in 1769.... more...

CHAPTER I. About ten o'clock one Sunday morning, in the month of July 18—, the dazzling sunbeams, which had for several hours irradiated a little dismal back attic in one of the closest courts adjoining Oxford Street, in London, and stimulated with their intensity the closed eyelids of a young man—one Tittlebat Titmouse—lying in bed, at length awoke him. He rubbed his eyes for some time, to... more...

"Pshaw! pshaw! child," he would reply, "that's nothing. It does almost as well to walk on, and that's all legs are for. I'd have had forty legs shot off rather than not have helped drive out those damned British rascals." Not even for sake of Hetty's young ears could the old Squire mention the British rascals without his favorite expletive. Here, also, came in... more...

Preface Who says that English folk have no fairy-tales of their own? The present volume contains only a selection out of some 140, of which I have found traces in this country. It is probable that many more exist. A quarter of the tales in this volume, have been collected during the last ten years or so, and some of them have not been hitherto published. Up to 1870 it was equally said of France and of... more...

n the day the Earth vanished, Herman Raye was earnestly fishing for trout, hip-deep in a mountain stream in upstate New York. Herman was a tall, serious, sensitive, healthy, well-muscled young man with an outsize jaw and a brush of red-brown hair. He wore spectacles to correct a slight hyperopia, and they had heavy black rims because he knew his patients expected it. In his off hours, he was fond of... more...

THE LONE MAN ON THE ISLAND "There! I see him again," whispered Dora Lockwood. A half-minute's silence, save for the patter of the drops from the paddles as the light cedar canoe shot around East Point of Cavern Island. "So do I!" cried Dorothy, but in a low tone. "My! what frightful whiskers." "He looks just like a pirate," declared her sister. "He is a... more...