"Who's that little gal goin' by?" said old Mrs. Emmons. "That—why, that's young Lucretia, mother," replied her daughter Ann, peering out of the window over her mother's shoulder. There was a fringe of flowering geraniums in the window; the two women had to stretch their heads over them. "Poor little soul!" old Mrs. Emmons remarked further. "I pity that... more...

CHAPTER I. I was born in Liverpool, on the 4th of June in 1769 or ’70.  I am consequently about ninety-three years old.  My friends say I am a wonderful old man.  I believe I am.  I have always enjoyed such excellent health, that I do not know what the sensation is of a medical man putting his finger on my wrist.  I have eaten and drunk in moderation, slept little, risen early, and kept a clear... more...

I. THE LOST JOY. All day, where the sunlight played on the sea-shore, Life sat. All day the soft wind played with her hair, and the young, young face looked out across the water. She was waiting—she was waiting; but she could not tell for what. All day the waves ran up and up on the sand, and ran back again, and the pink shells rolled. Life sat waiting; all day, with the sunlight in her eyes, she sat... more...

CHAPTER I.INTRODUCTORY North-West Donegal.  A fine afternoon in September.  The mountain ranges were bathed in sunshine and the scarred and seamy face of stern old Errigal seemed almost to smile.  A gentle breeze stirred the air and the surface of the lakes lay shimmering in the soft autumnal light.  The blue sky, flecked with white cloudlets, the purple of the heather, the dark hues of the bogs,... more...

A Frog he would a-wooing go,Whether his mother would let him or no.Off he set with his opera-hat.On the road he met with a Rat."Pray, Mr. Rat, will you go with me,Kind Mrs. Mousey for to see?"They soon arrived at Mousey's hall.They gave a loud tap, and they gave a loud call."Pray, Mrs. Mouse, are you within?""Yes, kind sirs, and sitting to spin.""Pray, Mrs. Mouse, now... more...

"HOW PLEASANT TO KNOW MR. LEAR!" "How pleasant to know Mr. Lear!"Who has written such volumes of stuff! Some think him ill-tempered and queer,But a few think him pleasant enough. His mind is concrete and fastidious,His nose is remarkably big; His visage is more or less hideous,His beard it resembles a wig. He has ears, and two eyes, and ten fingers,Leastways if you reckon two thumbs;... more...

INTRODUCTION In the Valhalla of English literature Anne Manning is sure of a little and safe place. Her studies of great men, in which her imagination fills in the hiatus which history has left, are not only literature in themselves, but they are a service to literature: it is quite conceivable that the ordinary reader with no very keen flair for poetry will realise John Milton and appraise him more... more...

THE NEW MARVEL IN PHOTOGRAPHY. A VISIT TO PROFESSOR RÖNTGEN AT HIS LABORATORY IN WÜRZBURG.—HIS OWN ACCOUNT OF HIS GREAT DISCOVERY.—INTERESTING EXPERIMENTS WITH THE CATHODE RAYS.—PRACTICAL USES OF THE NEW PHOTOGRAPHY. By H.J.W. Dam. PICTURE OF AN ALUMINIUM CIGAR-CASE, SHOWING CIGARS WITHIN. From a photograph by A.A.C. Swinton, Victoria Street, London. Exposure, ten minutes. N all the history of... more...

A FEW WORDS TO OUR FRIENDS. In our opening Address we carefully avoided any thing at all approaching to a boast of what we would, or even what we hoped to perform. We stated that "we would rather give a specimen than a description." We are now in like manner unwilling to point as exultingly, as we think we might, to the position which we have already taken. But there is a vast difference... more...

DUTY Back kitchen of a country public house. Micus and Padna seated at a table drinking from pewter pints. Mrs. Cotter enters in response to a call. PADNA (pointing to pint measures)Fill 'em again, ma'am, please. MRS. COTTER (taking pints, and wiping table)Fill 'em again, is it? Indeed I won't do any such thing. MICUSIndeed you will, Mrs. Cotter. MRS. COTTER Don't you know that... more...