THE FARMER'S WIFE. It is an evening in June, and the skies that have been weeping of late, owing to some calamity best known to themselves, have suddenly dried their eyes, and called up a smile to enliven their gloomy countenances. The farmers, who have been shaking their heads at sight of the unmown grass, and predicting a bad hay-harvest, are beginning to brighten up with the weather, and to... more...

THE DEGRADATION OF BEAUTY Some time ago I found myself at an exhibition of Post-Impressionist pictures, under the ægis of an artist who was himself of that persuasion. Indeed, he was one of the exhibitors, and I was constrained to express my opinions in the form of questions. We passed before a picture which to my untutored eyes was formless, meaningless and ugly. It was by a well-known artist, and my... more...

CHAPTER I. "It blows," said Joe Wingate. As if to accent the words of the speaker a heavy gust of wind at that moment shook the long light wooden structure which served as the general store of Sidon settlement, in Contra Costa. Even after it had passed a prolonged whistle came through the keyhole, sides, and openings of the closed glass front doors, that served equally for windows, and filled... more...

INTRODUCTION In the region including Wyoming and Colorado, Microtus pennsylvanicus has been divided into two subspecies: the pale M. p. insperatus (J. A. Allen) inhabits the Black Hills of the northeasternmost part of Wyoming; the dark M. p. modestus (Baird) inhabits extensive areas in both Wyoming and Colorado. Initial examination of Microtus pennsylvanicus revealed that specimens from the Big Horn... more...

CHAPTER I It was spring, thousands of years ago. Little boys snatched the April violets, and with them painted purple stripes upon their arms and faces. Then they played that enemies came. "Be afraid!" shouted one, frowning; and he stamped his foot and shook his fist at the play enemies. "I am fine!" called the other; and he held his head high, and took big steps, and looked this way... more...

A RHAPSODY ON THE NOBLE PROFESSION OF NOVEL READING It must have been at about the good-bye age of forty that Thomas Moore, that choleric and pompous yet genial little Irish gentleman, turned a sigh into good marketable "copy" for Grub Street and with shrewd economy got two full pecuniary bites out of one melancholy apple of reflection:   "Kind friends around me fall  Like leaves in... more...

INTRODUCTION To the modern reader, with an abundance of periodicals of all sorts and upon all subjects at hand, it seems hardly possible that this wealth of ephemeral literature was virtually developed within the past two centuries. It offers such a rational means for the dissemination of the latest scientific and literary news that the mind undeceived by facts would naturally place the origin of the... more...

CHAPTER I MERRY TIMES PROMISED Little Rose Atherton sat on the lower step of the three broad ones that led down from the piazza, and she wondered if there were, in all the world, a lovelier spot than Avondale. "And we live in the finest part of Avondale," she said, continuing her thoughts aloud. "Tho' wherever Uncle John is, seems better than anywhere else." She had spent the... more...

The Periodical Souse, the Never-Again Feeling and the Ride On the Sprinkling Cart Once there was an Indian who had a Way of putting on all his Feathers and breaking out of the Reservation. For three Weeks at a Stretch he gave a Correct Imitation of the Shining Light who passes the Basket and superintends the Repairs on the Parsonage. He was entitled to a Mark of 100 for Deportment. With his Meals he... more...

CHAPTER I. A SURPRISE IN THE SCREEN-ROOM. The city of Scranton lies in the centre of the Lackawanna coal-field, in the State of Pennsylvania. Year by year the suburbs of the city creep up the sides of the surrounding hills, like the waters of a rising lake. Standing at any point on this shore line of human habitations, you can look out across the wide landscape and count a score of coal-breakers within... more...