Showing: 8211-8220 results of 23918

LETTER I. From the Architect. EVERY MAN SHOULD HAVE A HOME.   My Dear John: Now that your "ship" is at last approaching the harbor, I am confident your first demonstration in honor of its arrival will be building yourself a house; exchanging your charmingly good-for-nothing air-castle for an actual flesh-and-blood, matter-of-fact dwelling-house, two-storied and French-roofed it may be, with... more...

PREFACE. Born in one of the most beautiful provinces of France, in a country of noble forests and extensive vineyards; brought up in the open air amidst the blue hills, and ever wandering over the fields and mountains with a gun on my arm—all the hours of my youth, if I may so say, were spent in search of partridges and hares in the dewy stubbles, and in the pursuit of the wild cat and the boar in... more...

by: Various
MARLOWE AND THE OLD “TAMING OF A SHREW.” I regret that my communication (No. 13. p. 194.), on the subject of the authorship of The Taming of a Shrew, was too late to be of any avail for the already-published new edition of Marlowe’s works; and, had I been aware of such being the case, I should have waited until I had had an opportunity of seeing a work whose editor may entertain views in... more...

by: Various
FOLK-SONG BY F. B. GUMMERE s in the case of ballads, or narrative songs, it was important to sunder not only the popular from the artistic, but also the ballad of the people from the ballad for the people; precisely so in the article of communal lyric one must distinguish songs of the folk—songs made by the folk—from those verses of the street or the music hall which are often caught up and sung by... more...

CHAPTER I "CROOKED AS A DOG'S HIND LAIG" It was a land of splintered peaks, of deep, dry gorges, of barren mesas burnt by the suns of a million torrid summers. The normal condition of it was warfare. Life here had to protect itself with a tough, callous rind, to attack with a swift, deadly sting. Only the fit survived. But moonlight had magically touched the hot, wrinkled earth with a... more...

TO RICHARD HENRY LEE. [MS., Samuel Adams Papers, Lenox Library.] BOSTON Jany 1 1778 MY DEAR SIR I had the Pleasure of receiving your Letter dated at York the 23d ofNovr last, which mentions your having before written to me by a youngGentn Capt Romane who was to pass through this Place in his Return toFrance. That Letter has not yet come to Hand. I shall regard all yourRecommendations with the utmost... more...

FOREWORD Mr. Arthur Davis, in whose memory has been founded the series of Lectures devoted to the fostering of Hebraic thought and learning, of which this is the first, was born in 1846 and died on the first day of Passover, 1906. His childhood was spent in the town of Derby, where there was then no Synagogue or Jewish minister or teacher of Hebrew. Spontaneously he developed a strong Jewish... more...

by: Various
THE TIPTOES. A SKETCH. "The Wrongheads have been a considerable family ever since England was England." VANBRUGH. Morning and evening, from every village within three or four miles of the metropolis, may be remarked a tide of young men wending diurnal way to and from their respective desks and counters in the city, preceded by a ripple of errand-boys, and light porters, and followed by an ebb... more...

by: Various
OUR SECOND VOLUME. We cannot resist the opportunity which the commencement of our Second Volume affords us, of addressing a few words of acknowledgment to our friends, both contributors and readers. In the short space of seven months, we have been enabled by their support to win for "NOTES AND QUERIES" no unimportant position among the literary journals of this country. We came forward for the... more...

CHAPTER I THE MAN IN THE CLOAK. A man enveloped in a handsome grey cloak groped through a dark alley which led into the fashionable district of the Rue de Béthisy. From time to time he paused, with a hand to his ear, as if listening. Satisfied that the alley was deserted save for his own presence, he would proceed, hugging the walls. The cobbles were icy, and scarce a moment passed in which he did not... more...