H is the lost chord; the mission note of present-day Every true is a hero! Who has not been stirred to scorn and mirth at the very thought of a Chocolate Soldier! In peace true soldiers are captive lions, fretting in their cages. War gives them their liberty and sends them, like boys bounding out of school, to obtain their heart's desire or perish in the attempt. Battle is the soldier's vital... more...

A small, shiny, pink card lay on the round table in Sylvia Bailey's sitting-room at the Hôtel de l'Horloge in Paris. She had become quite accustomed to finding one or more cards—cards from dressmakers, cards from corset-makers, cards from hairdressers—lying on her sitting-room table, but there had never been a card quite like this card. Although it was pink, it looked more like a... more...

The Chinese Nightingale Second Section America Watching the War, August, 1914, to April, 1917   Where Is the Real Non-resistant?  Here's to the Mice!  When Bryan Speaks  To Jane Addams at the Hague     I. Speak Now for Peace    II. Tolstoi Is Plowing Yet  The Tale of the Tiger Tree  The Merciful Hand Third Section America at War with Germany, Beginning April, 1917   Our... more...

I WOMEN’S WORDS PART FLESH AND BLOOD ONCE upon a time there were two brothers, who lived in the same house. And the big brother listened to his wife’s words, and because of them fell out with the little one. Summer had begun, and the time for sowing the high-growing millet had come. The little brother had no grain, and asked the big one to loan him some, and the big one ordered his wife to give it... more...

THE NURSERY AND ITS RHYMES It is a mistake to suppose that any one nation or people has exclusive right to Mother Goose. She is an omnipresent old lady. She is Asiatic as well as European or American. Wherever there are mothers, grandmothers, and nurses there are Mother Gooses,—or; shall we say, Mother Geese—for I am at a loss as to how to pluralize this old dame. She is in India, whence I have... more...

HAPPY NEW YEAR Happy New Year, Juniors! The morning of the first day of every year we enter into a contest. We see who will be the first to give that day's greeting. Before I was awake this morning my boy ran into my room shouting, "Happy New Year! Happy New Year!" He won in the contest. Now, however, you are in Church and it is not proper for you to speak out loud, so I am able to get... more...

I. THE KING'S CHILDREN. There was once, in Christendom, a little kingdom where the people were pious and simple-hearted. In their simplicity they held for true many things at which people of great kingdoms smile. One of these things was what is called the "Golden Age." There was not a peasant in the villages, nor a citizen in the cities, who did not believe in the Golden Age. If they... more...

CHAPTER I. "THREE ON A DOORSTEP." In a poor part of London, but not in the very poorest part—two children sat on a certain autumn evening, side by side on a doorstep. The eldest might have been ten, the youngest eight. The eldest was a girl, the youngest a boy. Drawn up in front of these children, looking into their little faces with hungry, loving, pathetic eyes, lay a mongrel dog. The three... more...

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS It was the schooner Hesperus,  That sailed the wintry sea;And the skipper had taken his little daughter,  To bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,  Her cheeks like the dawn of day,And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,  That ope in the month of May. The skipper he stood beside the helm,  His pipe was in his mouth,And he watched how the veering... more...

LONGFELLOW'S POEMS IN PROSE he home of the American poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, during the greater part of his life was in the picturesque town of Cambridge, Massachusetts, and there many of his best known poems were written. The forge of the Village Blacksmith really stood there beneath the shelter of a "spreading chestnut tree," in Cambridge, and when, as the town grew larger, the... more...