MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD. AN ADAPTATION, BY ORPHEUS C. KERR. CHAPTER XII. A NIGHT OF IT WITH MCLAUGHLIN. Judge SWEENEY, with a certain supercilious consciousness that he is figuring in a novel, and that it will not do for him to thwart the eccentricities of mysterious fiction by any commonplace deference to the mere meteorological weaknesses of ordinary human nature, does not allow the fact that late... more...

INTRODUCTION I In the series of books I edit for my sister I confine myself to those that have I believe some special value to Ireland, now or in the future. I have asked Mr. Pound for these beautiful plays because I think they will help me to explain a certain possibility of the Irish dramatic movement. I am writing these words with my imagination stirred by a visit to the studio of Mr. Dulac, the... more...

On Christmas Day in the Morning And all the angels in heaven do sing,On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day;And all the bells on earth do ring,On Christmas Day in the morning. —Old Song. That Christmas Day virtually began a whole year beforehand, with a red-hot letter written by Guy Fernald to his younger sister, Nan, who had been married to Samuel Burnett just two and one-half years. The letter was read... more...

CHAPTER I. THE THOUGHTS OF YOUTH The sunshine of a day in early spring, honey pale and honey sweet, was showering over the red brick buildings of Queenslea College and the grounds about them, throwing through the bare, budding maples and elms, delicate, evasive etchings of gold and brown on the paths, and coaxing into life the daffodils that were peering greenly and perkily up under the windows of the... more...

CHAPTER I FROM TAVERN TO THEATRE "Out of question, you were born in a merry hour," says Don Pedro to the blithesome heroine of "Much Ado About Nothing." "No, sure, my lord," answers Beatrice. "My mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born." Surely a star, possibly Venus, must have danced gaily on a certain night in the year of grace 1683,... more...

THE BAY OF SEVEN ISLANDS. The volume in which "The Bay of Seven Islands" was published was dedicated to the late Edwin Percy Whipple, to whom more than to any other person I was indebted for public recognition as one worthy of a place in American literature, at a time when it required a great degree of courage to urge such a claim for a pro-scribed abolitionist. Although younger than I, he had... more...

CHAPTER I. THE ORPHAN'S TRIAL. "We met ere yet the world had come To wither up the springs of youth, Amid the holy joys of home, And in the first warm blush of youth. We parted as they never part, Whose tears are doomed to be forgot; Oh, by what agony of heart Forget me not!—forget me not!" —Anonymous.   At nine o'clock the next morning Traverse went to the library to keep his... more...

Early morning deliveries were part of the Honeychile Bakery Service. But on this particular morning the service was reversed! At 2:34 a.m., Patrolman Louis Whedbee left the Zip Cab station. With arch supports squeaking and night stick swinging, Whedbee walked east to the call box at the corner of Sullivan and Cherokee. The traffic signal suspended above the intersection blinked a cautionary amber. Not... more...

CHAPTER XVI. WE slept most all day, and started out at night, a little ways behind a monstrous long raft that was as long going by as a procession.  She had four long sweeps at each end, so we judged she carried as many as thirty men, likely.  She had five big wigwams aboard, wide apart, and an open camp fire in the middle, and a tall flag-pole at each end.  There was a power of style about her.... more...

Just After The Ball. The storm-door closes with a bang! My escort, a stupid fellow, has said "Good-night!" He drives down the street in his old rattletrap of a coupe. I am so glad he is gone! And yet I am always afraid of burglars—or—something dreadful, whenever I go into the house alone so late at night. I bolt the inside door. I mount the hall-chair, left waiting by papa, and, trembling... more...