CHAPTER I Four cowboys inclined their bodies over the barbed-wire fence which marked the dividing-line between the Centipede Ranch and their own, staring mournfully into a summer night such as only the far southwestern country knows. Big yellow stars hung thick and low-so low that it seemed they might almost be plucked by an upstretched hand-and a silent air blew across thousands of open miles of land... more...

CHAPTER I.–"I'll Shoot!"Mr. Barron, the rich banker in Broad street, was seated at his desk in his private office one day when the door was opened by the porter, who said: "There's a newsboy out here who says he must see you, sir." "Go and tell him to let you know what he wants. If it's a situation, tell him we have none vacant." The porter went back to the outer... more...

I here present you, courteous reader, with the record of a remarkable period in my life: according to my application of it, I trust that it will prove not merely an interesting record, but in a considerable degree useful and instructive.  In that hope it is that I have drawn it up; and that must be my apology for breaking through that delicate and honourable reserve which, for the most part, restrains... more...

THE PROTESTANTS. Where changes are about to take place of great and enduring moment, a kind of prologue, on a small scale, sometimes anticipates the true opening of the drama; like the first drops which give notice of the coming storm, or as if the shadows of the reality were projected forwards into the future, and imitated in dumb show the movements of the real actors in the story.Prelude to the... more...

CHAPTER I. One of the children brought me a photograph album, long ago finished and closed, and showed me a faded and blurred figure over which there had been a little dispute. Was it Hercules with club and lion-skin, or was it a gentleman I had known? Ah me! how soon a man's place knoweth him no more! What fresh recollections that majestic form awoke in me—the massive features, with the... more...

CHAPTER I. What a picture she was as she sat there, my own Bessie! and what a strange place it was to rest on, those church steps! Behind us lay the Woolsey woods, with their wooing fragrance of pine and soft rushes of scented air; and the lakes were in the distance, lying very calm in the cloud-shadows and seeming to wait for us to come. But to-day Bessie would nothing of lakes or ledges: she would... more...

STRUCTURE AND CHEMISTRY OF THE COTTON FIBRE. There is scarcely any subject of so much importance to the bleacher, textile colourist or textile manufacturer as the structure and chemistry of the cotton fibre with which he has to deal. By the term chemistry we mean not only the composition of the fibre substance itself, but also the reactions it is capable of undergoing when brought into contact with... more...

THE STORY OF THE TWO BULLS In former times, my story tells, There lived one Deacon R., And not the worst man in the world, Nor best was he, by far. His fields were rich, his acres broad, And cattle were his pride; Oxen and sheep, and horses, too, And what you please, beside. His brindle cow, the highest prize Won at the county fair, For taper limbs and rounded form, And short and shining hair. Old... more...

I If it hadn't been for a purple moon that came peering up above the dark jungle just at nightfall, it would have been impossible to tell that Little Shikara was at his watch. He was really just the colour of the shadows—a rather pleasant brown—he was very little indeed, and besides, he was standing very, very still. If he was trembling at all, from anticipation and excitement, it was no more... more...

I. From New York to Aspinwall. "TELL us a story, aunty,—tell us a story," came in pleading tones from a group of children; and they watched my face with eager eyes to see if I looked willing. "A story, children; what shall it be about?" "About the places you went to while you were gone, and the people you saw." "Now, aunty," said Carrie, who was one of the older ones,... more...