The new contributor who does charm can have little notion how much he charms his first reader, who is the editor. That functionary may bide his pleasure in a short, stiff note of acceptance, or he may mask his joy in a check of slender figure; but the contributor may be sure that he has missed no merit in his work, and that he has felt, perhaps far more than the public will feel, such delight as it can... more...

This is a frontways view of Bunyip Bluegum and his Uncle Wattleberry. At a glance you can see what a fine, round, splendid fellow Bunyip Bluegum is, without me telling you. At a second glance you can see that the Uncle is more square than round, and that his face has whiskers on it. Looked at sideways you can still see what a splendid fellow Bunyip is, though you can only see one of his Uncle's... more...

CHAPTER I A September sun, losing some of its heat if not its brilliance, was dropping low in the west over the black Colorado range. Purple haze began to thicken in the timbered notches. Gray foothills, round and billowy, rolled down from the higher country. They were smooth, sweeping, with long velvety slopes and isolated patches of aspens that blazed in autumn gold. Splotches of red vine colored the... more...

I. TROY BEFORE THE SIEGE. Design by Burne-Jones.That part of Asia Minor which borders the narrow channel now known as the Dar-da-nellesГЉВ№, was in ancient times called TroГЉВ№as. Its capital was the city of Troy, which stood about three miles from the shore of the Æ-geГЉВ№an Sea, at the foot of Mount Ida, near the junction of two rivers, the... more...

CHAPTER I. THE DEATH-BED OF JOHN VERNON.—HIS DYING WORDS.—DESCRIPTION OF HIS DAUGHTER, THE HEROINE.—THE OATH. "Is the night calm, Constance?" "Beautiful! the moon is up." "Open the shutters wider, there. It is a beautiful night. How beautiful! Come hither, my child." The rich moonlight that now shone through the windows streamed on little that it could invest with poetical... more...

IN THE LAND OF THE COWBOY "What's that?" "Guns, I reckon." "Sounds to me as if the town were being attacked. Just like war time, isn't it?" "Never having been to war, I can't say. But it's a noise all right." The freckle-faced boy, sitting on his pony with easy confidence, answered his companion's questions absently. After a careless glance up... more...

INTRODUCTION Somethirty years ago, while out on one of his landlooking trips in the woods of Northern Michigan, my father came upon a little lake which seemed to him the loveliest that he had ever seen, though he had visited many in the course of his explorations. The wild ponds are very apt to be shallow and muddy, with low, marshy shores; but this one was deep and clear, and its high banks were... more...

WHERE THERE IS NO APPLE-TREE The wind is snapping in the bamboos, knocking together the resonant canes and weaving the myriad flexile wreaths above them. The palm heads rustle with a brisk crinkling music. Great ferns stand in the edge of the forest, and giant arums cling their arms about the trunks of trees and rear their dim jacks-in-the-pulpit far in the branches; and in the greater distance I know... more...

I THE WAY TO CONCRETE REALIZATION More and more frequently does one hear this phrase, The League of Nations, used to express the outline idea of the new world that will come out of the war. There can be no doubt that the phrase has taken hold of the imaginations of great multitudes of people: it is one of those creative phrases that may alter the whole destiny of mankind. But as yet it is still a very... more...

CHAPTER I A Wet-day Party Drip, drip, drip! The rain came pouring down on a certain September afternoon, turning the tennis lawn to a swamp, dashing the bloom off the roses, spoiling the geraniums, and driving even the blackbirds and thrushes to seek shelter inside the summer house. It was that steady, settled, hopeless rain that does not hold out the slightest promise of ever stopping; there was not a... more...