All along the line of machines, the men's hands and arms worked like the legs of spiders spinning a web. They wound wire and hammered bolts, tied knots and welded pieces of steel and fitted gears. They did not look at each other or sing or whistle or talk or laugh. And then—he made a mistake. Instantly he stepped back and a trouble shooter moved into his place. The trouble shooter's hands... more...

Introduction. Had Rabelais never written his strange and marvellous romance, no one would ever have imagined the possibility of its production. It stands outside other things—a mixture of mad mirth and gravity, of folly and reason, of childishness and grandeur, of the commonplace and the out-of-the-way, of popular verve and polished humanism, of mother-wit and learning, of baseness and nobility, of... more...

CHAPTER I LOVE UNKNOWN From its long sweep over the unbroken prairie a heavier blast than usual shook the slight frame house. The windows rattled in the casements, as if shivering in their dumb way in the December storm. So open and defective was the dwelling in its construction, that eddying currents of cold air found admittance at various points—in some instances carrying with them particles of the... more...

SEA MARVELS   This morning more mysterious seems the sea  Than yesterday when, with reverberant roar,  It charged upon the beaches, and the sky  Above it shimmered cloudless. Now the waves  Lap languorously along the foamless sand,  And till the far horizon swims in mist.  Out of this murk, across this oily sweep,  Might lost armadas grandly sail to shore;  Jason might oar on Argo, or... more...

CHAPTER I A BOWL OF ROSES In the morning-room of a large, old-fashioned country-house, situated a few miles outside the city of New Orleans, sat a young man arranging a bowl of roses. Beside him stood a pretty girl, in riding costume, whose face bore a trace of petulance. "Do make haste, Cousin Ridge, and finish with those stupid flowers. You have wasted half an hour of this glorious morning over... more...

SINGLE COPIES. Any printed book will be sent prepaid on receipt of the list price. Keys and translations will be supplied to teachers only. Transportation charges on blank books, drawing books, blanks, and tablets will be at purchaser's expense. ORDERS. Each order should be clearly written and signed by the purchaser. It should give the post-office, county, and State, and also indicate whether the... more...

August, 1790. The bard, who paints from rural plains,  Must oft himself the void supplyOf damsels pure and artless swains,  Of innocence and industry: For sad experience shows the heart  Of human beings much the same;Or polish'd by insidious art,  Or rude as from the clod it came. And he who roams the village round,  Or strays amid the harvest sere,Will hear, as now, too many a... more...

INTRODUCTION One of the oft-repeated questions for which I usually had a ready answer, at the conclusion of Sir Ernest Shackleton's Expedition (1907-09) was, "Would you like to go to the Antarctic again?" In the first flush of the welcome home and for many months, during which the keen edge of pleasure under civilized conditions had not entirely worn away, I was inclined to reply with a... more...

CHAPTER 1. THE JUNGLE Children are like jam: all very well in the proper place, but you can't stand them all over the shop—eh, what?' These were the dreadful words of our Indian uncle. They made us feel very young and angry; and yet we could not be comforted by calling him names to ourselves, as you do when nasty grown-ups say nasty things, because he is not nasty, but quite the exact... more...

BEING A WORD ON BEHALF OF PATCHOULI. AN ingenuous reviewer once described some verses of mine as "unwholesome," because, he said, they had "a faint smell of Patchouli about them." I am a little sorry he chose Patchouli, for that is not a particularly favourite scent with me. If he had only chosen Peau d'Espagne, which has a subtle meaning, or Lily of the Valley, with which I have... more...