PART 1. Nec tantum prodere vati,Quantum scire licet. Venit aetas omnis in unamCongeriem, miserumque premunt tot saecula pectus.LUCAN, Phars. v. 176. How wonderful is Death,Death and his brother Sleep!One pale as yonder wan and horned moon,With lips of lurid blue,The other glowing like the vital morn, 5When throned on ocean's waveIt breathes over the world:Yet both so passing strange and wonderful!... more...

Such hosts of memories come tumbling in on me. More than fifteen years ago, on September 3, 1903, I met Carl Parker. He had just returned to college, two weeks late for the beginning of his Senior year. There was much concern among his friends, for he had gone on a two months' hunting-trip into the wilds of Idaho, and had planned to return in time for college. I met him his first afternoon in... more...

PREFACE It comes to me as a very welcome piece of news, and yet a piece of news which I have been long expecting, that a special American edition of Edmund Leamy's Irish fairy tales is about to be published. This, then, will be the third issue of the little book. I venture to predict that it will not be the last; and I fancy the American publisher who has had the judgment to take the matter up... more...

Inferences from Haunted Houses and Haunted Men The lack of interest in so-called psychical matters is somewhat surprising. There is, however, more hope of the clearing up of the scientific aspects of these phenomena than ever before. Sir William Crookes, late President of the British Association, has no doubt that thoughts and images may be transferred from one mind to another without the agency of the... more...

Chapter One. The Ban. The grey London sunlight shone on the face of the patient as she sat facing the long window of the consulting-room, on the finely cut features, sensitive lips, and clear, dilated eyes. The doctor sat in the shadow, leaning back in his chair, tapping softly with his fingers upon the desk. “And you must not be afraid,” he said, following a vigorous cross-questioning with his... more...

POEMS BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON AUTUMN FIRES In the other gardens  And all up the vale,From the autumn bonfires  See the smoke trail! Pleasant summer over  And all the summer flowers;The red fire blazes,  The grey smoke towers. Sing a song of seasons!  Something bright in all!Flowers in the summer,  Fires in the fall! THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE When children are playing alone on the green,In comes... more...

HIS LIGHT Gray mist on the sea,And the night coming down,She stays with sorrowIn a far town. He goes the sea-waysBy channel lights dim,Her love, a true light,Watches for him. They would be weddedOn a fair yesterday,But the quick regimentSaw him away. Gray mist in her eyesAnd the night coming down:He feels a prayerFrom a far town. He goes the sea-ways,The land lights are dim;She and an altar lightKeep... more...

The author of Lavengro, the Scholar, the Gypsy, and the Priest has after his fitful hour come into his own, and there abides securely.  Borrow’s books,—carelessly written, impatient, petulant, in parts repellant,—have been found so full of the elixir of life, of the charm of existence, of the glory of motion, so instinct with character, and mood, and wayward fancy, that their very names are... more...

On the northern shore of Sicily are still to be seen the magnificent remains of a castle, which formerly belonged to the noble house of Mazzini. It stands in the centre of a small bay, and upon a gentle acclivity, which, on one side, slopes towards the sea, and on the other rises into an eminence crowned by dark woods. The situation is admirably beautiful and picturesque, and the ruins have an air of... more...

CHAPTER I "Well, Ned, are you ready?" "Oh, I suppose so, Tom. As ready as I ever shall be." "Why, Ned Newton, you're not getting afraid; are you? And after you've been on so many trips with me?" "No, it isn't exactly that, Tom. I'd go in a minute if you didn't have this new fangled thing on your airship. But how do you know how it's going to... more...