CHAPTER I THE SPIRIT OF WOMEN TO WOMEN Your hearts are lifted up, your hearts That have foreknown the utter price, Your hearts burn upward like a flame Of splendour and of sacrifice. For you too, to battle go, Not with the marching drums and cheers, But in the watch of solitude And through the boundless night of fears. And not a shot comes blind with death, And not a stab of steel is pressed Home, but... more...

JOHN KERZAR, HANNAH DUSTIN, AND THE INDIANS. It was in August, 1692. John Kerzar, who lived on the banks of the Merrimac, a few miles from the sea, went out into his meadow with his scythe to cut grass. He took his gun along with him to shoot a bear if he saw one in his corn, or an Indian if one made his appearance. He leaned his gun against a tree, and went on with his mowing, not knowing that an... more...

Tom seated himself at the table and looked into his wife's face with a smile: "Nancy, it's a meal fit for a king!" The supper over, he smoked his pipe before the cabin fire of blazing logs, while she cleared the wooden dishes. He watched her get the paper, goose-quill pen and ink as a prisoner sees the scaffold building for his execution. "Now we're all ready," she said... more...

HOT WEATHER CORRESPONDENCE. (In the manner of various contemporaries.) ANIMAL LABOUR. Corelli Parade, Stratford-on-Avon. DEAR SIR,—I seem to have read somewhere of the extreme sagacity and intelligence shown by the baboons of South Africa, some of whom, as well as I remember, are employed as porters and, I think, station-masters on the railways in the interior of Cape Colony. My gardener and coachman... more...

WASHOUT. We had hardly settled down to Mess when an orderly, armed with a buff slip, shot through the door, narrowly missed colliding with the soup, and pulled up by Grigson's chair. Grigson is our Flight Commander—one of those rugged and impenetrable individuals who seem impervious to any kind of shock. There is a legend that on one occasion four machine-gun bullets actually hit him and bounced... more...

Chapter I. We emulate the Rollo books. 'Sure a terrible time I was out o' the way,Over the sea, over the sea,Till I come to Ireland one sunny day,—Betther for me, betther for me:The first time me fut got the feel o' the groundI was strollin' along in an Irish cityThat hasn't its aquil the world aroundFor the air that is sweet an' the girls that are pretty.' —Moira... more...

SONNET—MY HEART SHALL BE THY GARDEN My heart shall be thy garden.  Come, my own,   Into thy garden; thine be happy hours   Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers,From root to crowning petal, thine alone. Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown   Up to the sky enclosed, with all its showers.   But ah, the birds, the birds!  Who shall build bowersTo keep these thine?  O... more...

CHAPTER I. VARIEGATED DOGS—THE BAD BOY SLEEPS ON THE KOOP—A MANDOESN'T KNOW EVERYTHING AT FORTY-EIGHT—THE OLD MAN WANTSSOME POLLYNURIOUS WATER—THE DYER'S DOGS—PROCESSION OP THEDOGS—PINK, BLUE, GREEN AND WHITE—"WELL I'M DEM'D—HIS PADON'T APPRECIATE. "How do you and your Pa get along now," asked the grocery-man of the bad boy, as he leaned against the... more...

CHAPTER I. Short and Preliminary. In a certain part of Ireland, inside the borders of the county of Waterford, lived two respectable families, named Lindsay and Goodwin, the former being of Scotch descent. Their respective residences were not more than three miles distant; and the intimacy that subsisted between them was founded, for many years, upon mutual good-will and esteem, with two exceptions... more...

Shortly after there was erected to his memory in the chancel, at the expense, it is understood, of his noble friend the Earl of Northumberland, a fine marble monument, bearing the above neat and appropriate inscription. St Christopher's, a very old church, with its records (still preserved) extending back in an almost unbroken series to 1488, passed through many vicissitudes before itwas finally... more...