THE GREAT AMULET. PROLOGUE. I.   "The little more, and how much it is!    The little less, and what worlds away."        —Browning. No one in Zermatt dreamed that a wedding had been solemnised in the English church on that September afternoon of the early eighties. Tourists and townsfolk alike had been cheated of a legitimate thrill of interest and speculation. Nor would even... more...

HAPPY DAYS And now Philip seemed as prosperous as his heart could desire. The business flourished, and money beyond his moderate wants came in. As for himself he required very little; but he had always looked forward to placing his idol in a befitting shrine; and means for this were now furnished to him. The dress, the comforts, the position he had desired for Sylvia were all hers. She did not need to... more...

November 1st. I went this morning with Sir W. Pen by coach to Westminster, and having done my business at Mr. Montagu's, I went back to him at Whitehall, and from thence with him to the 3 Tun Tavern, at Charing Cross, and there sent for up the maister of the house's dinner, and dined very well upon it, and afterwards had him and his fayre sister (who is very great with Sir W. Batten and Sir... more...

AN OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone,And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known,So I turn the leaves of fancy till, in shadowy design,I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.   The lamplight seems to glimmer with a flicker of surprise,As I turn it low to rest me of the dazzle in my eyes,And light my pipe in silence, save a sigh... more...

TO MY MOTHERMother, to whose valiant will,Battling long ago,What the heaping years fulfil,Light and song, I owe;Send my little book a-field,Fronting praise or blameWith the shining flag and shieldOf your name.It fell on a day I was happy,And the winds, the concave sky,The flowers and the beasts in the meadowSeemed happy even as I;And I stretched my hands to the meadow,To the bird, the beast, the... more...

INTRODUCTION. Though it may not have been possible in the following pages to reproduce the elegant and incisive style of a master of French prose, not even the inadequacies of a translation can obscure the force of his argument. The only introduction, therefore, that seems possible must take the form of a request to the reader to study M. Faguet's criticism of modern democracy with the daily paper... more...

CHAPTER I Pierre Terrail, the renowned Bayard of history, was born at the Castle of Bayard, in Dauphiné, about the year 1474, when Louis XI. was King of France. He came of an ancient and heroic race, whose chief privilege had been to shed their blood for France throughout the Middle Ages. The lord of Bayard had married Hélène Alleman, a good and pious lady of a noble family, whose brother Laurent... more...

Contents with First Lines: PreludeI have gathered these stories afar, The Man from Snowy RiverThere was movement at the station, for the word had passed around Old Pardon, the Son of ReprieveYou never heard tell of the story? Clancy of the OverflowI had written him a letter which I had, for want of better Conroy's GapThis was the way of it, don't you know — Our New HorseThe boys had come... more...

The Slow Triumph of Truth. does not fear to perform its duty and use plain language in reference to the obstructionists who hinder the acceptance of demonstrable sciences and prevent all fair investigation, while they occupy positions of influence and control in all collegiate institutions. It is not in scorn or bitterness that we should speak of this erring class, a large number of whom are the... more...

CHAPTER I On the first Sunday in the month of August, 1815, at ten o'clock precisely—as on every Sunday morning—the sacristan of the parish church at Sairmeuse sounded the three strokes of the bell which warn the faithful that the priest is ascending the steps of the altar to celebrate high mass. The church was already more than half full, and from every side little groups of peasants were... more...