NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK. t was Christmas Eve, and the one narrow main street of a small country town was ablaze. Extra lights were glowing in all the little shops; yet all this illumination served only to make more apparent the untidy condition of the six-by-nine window panes, as well as the goods therein. Men and women were hastening homeward with well-filled baskets which they had provided for... more...

Chapter One. In Raybeck Square. “Oh, you wicked old woman! Ah, you dare to cry, and I’ll send you to bed.” “No, no, auntie, don’t, please. What will dear Isabel think? You’re not going to spoil a delightful evening?” “Of course she is not. Here, old lady; have another glass of claret—medicinally.” Dr Chester jumped up, gave his sister and the visitor a merry look, took the claret to... more...

THE FIRST CIVIL WAR.Inconsistencies of the Edict of January.The Edict of January was on its very face a compromise, and as such rested on no firm foundation. Inconsistent with itself, it fully satisfied neither Huguenot nor Roman Catholic. The latter objected to the toleration which the edict extended; the former demanded the unrestricted freedom of worship which it denied. If the existence of two... more...

They lie all around me, countless in their number,Each martyr with his palm.No torture now can rack them: safe they slumber,Hushed in eternal calm!I read the rude inscriptions, written weeping,At night with hurried tears.Yet what a tale they tell! their secret keepingThrough all these thousand years."In Pace." Yes, at peace. By sword, or fire,Or cross, or lictor's rod—Virgin, or matron;... more...

CHAPTER I. TWO CHILDHOODS To what genius fed on tears shall we some day owe that most touching of all elegies,—the tale of tortures borne silently by souls whose tender roots find stony ground in the domestic soil, whose earliest buds are torn apart by rancorous hands, whose flowers are touched by frost at the moment of their blossoming? What poet will sing the sorrows of the child whose lips must... more...

FOREWORD Twelve years had passed since I had laid the body of my great-uncle, Captain John Carter, of Virginia, away from the sight of men in that strange mausoleum in the old cemetery at Richmond. Often had I pondered on the odd instructions he had left me governing the construction of his mighty tomb, and especially those parts which directed that he be laid in an open casket and that the ponderous... more...

INTRODUCTION. It is true that good manners, like good morals, are best taught by the teacher's example. It is also true that definite lessons, in which the subject can be considered in its appropriate divisions, are of no little value if we would have our children attain to "that finest of the fine arts, a beautiful behavior." Such lessons should be as familiar and conversational as... more...

CHAPTER I. There is a pleasant villa on the southern bank of the James River, a few miles below the city of Richmond. The family mansion, an old fashioned building of white stone, surrounded by a spacious veranda, and embowered among stately elms and grave old oaks, is sure to attract the attention of the traveller by its picturesque appearance, and the dreamy elegance and air of comfort that pervade... more...

On the night of my original meeting with Scott he was but lately home from his first adventure into the Antarctic and my chief recollection of the occasion is that having found the entrancing man I was unable to leave him. In vain he escorted me through the streets of London to my home, for when he had said good-night I then escorted him to his, and so it went on I know not for how long through the... more...

One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."—Ed.Spade! with which Wilkinson hath tilled his lands,And shaped these pleasant walks by Emont's side,Thou art a tool of honour in my hands;I press thee, through the yielding soil, with pride.Rare master has it been thy lot to know;Long hast Thou served a man to reason true;Whose life combines the best of high and low,The labouringmany and... more...