Nuts Crazy as a cashew.Unbelievably lucky, I keep my job,live alone,lead a lucky life. Always the same old job,17 years of it. Go nowhere.Be nobody.Do nothing. Sheer luxury. They got to me. They drove meoff the deep end. But I’m luckywith my label,and my safe job. Shame I’m nuts.Blissful,lucky,shame. Mind Stew Boil, boil, andon it stews,the broth that cooks,on the stovethat is my mind. Ideas bob... more...

STORY OF THE DOOR Mr. Utterson the lawyer was a man of a rugged countenance that was never lighted by a smile; cold, scanty and embarrassed in discourse; backward in sentiment; lean, long, dusty, dreary and yet somehow lovable. At friendly meetings, and when the wine was to his taste, something eminently human beaconed from his eye; something indeed which never found its way into his talk, but which... more...

INTRODUCTION. William Kemp was a comic actor of high reputation. Like Tarlton, whom he succeeded “as wel in the fauour of her Maiesty as in the opinion and good thoughts of the generall audience,” he usually played the Clown, and was greatly applauded for his buffoonery, his extemporal wit, and his performance of the Jig.   That at one time,—perhaps from about 1589 to 1593 or later—he belonged... more...

THE KILTARTAN HISTORY BOOKTHE ANCIENT TIMES"As to the old history of Ireland, the first man ever died in Ireland was Partholan, and he is buried, and his greyhound along with him, at some place in Kerry. The Nemidians came after that and stopped for a while, and then they all died of some disease. And then the Firbolgs came, the best men that ever were in Ireland, and they had no law but love, and... more...

FARCOT'S IMPROVED WOOLF COMPOUND ENGINE. In a preceding article, we have described a ventilator which is in use at the Decazeville coal mines, and which is capable of furnishing, per second, 20 cubic meters of air whose pressure must be able to vary between 30 and 80 millimeters. In order to actuate such an apparatus, it was necessary to have a motor that was possessed of great elasticity, and... more...

There is positive need of more widespread knowledge of the principles of cookery. Few women know how to cook an egg or boil a potato properly, and the making of the perfect loaf of bread has long been assigned a place among the "lost arts." By many women cooking is considered, at best, a homely art,—a necessary kind of drudgery; and the composition, if not the consumption, of salads and... more...

aving released the netting of his bunk, George Tremont floated himself out. He ran his tongue around his mouth and grimaced. "Wonder how long I slept ... feels like too long," he muttered. "Well, they would have called me." The "cabin" was a ninety-degree wedge of a cylinder hardly eight feet high. From one end of its outer arc across to the other was just over ten feet, so that... more...

Lou Phillips sat on the cold metal deck of the control room, seething with a growing dislike for the old man. "What you are here for," the other had told him when the guards had brought Phillips in, "is a simple crime of violence. You'll do, I'm sure." The old man paced the deck impatiently, while a pair of armed guards maintained a watchful silence by the door. Two more men... more...

BRONSON HOWARD (1842-1908) The present Editor has just read through some of the vivacious correspondence of Bronson Howard—a sheaf of letters sent by him to Brander Matthews during a long intercourse. The time thus spent brings sharply to mind the salient qualities of the man—his nobility of character, his soundness of mind, his graciousness of manner, and his thorough understanding of the dramatic... more...

SCENE I.—JULIA, THE VISCOUNT. Visc. What! you are here already? Ju. Yes, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself, Cléante; it is not right for a lover to be the last to come to the rendezvous. Visc. I should have been here long ago if there were no importunate people in the world. I was stopped on my way by an old bore of rank, who asked me news of the court, merely to be able himself to detail to... more...