PROEM.We are coming to the rescue,Just a hundred strong;With fun and pun and epigram,And laughter, wit, and song;With badinage and repartee,And humor quaint or bold,And stories thatarestories,Not several æons old;With parody and nondescript,Burlesque and satire keen,And irony and playful jest,So that it may be seenThat women are not quite so dull:We come—a merry throng;Yes, we're coming to the... more...

While one of us (Dalquest) was in a dugout canoe that was being paddled up a small unnamed tributary of the Rio Coatzacoalcos, through dense jungle, he grasped a decayed and termite damaged tree-trunk projecting approximately three feet above the surface of the water to steady the canoe. At that instant two bats were detected in one of the many small holes in the trunk, which was eight to nine inches... more...

December 2, 1914. The Kaiser, we hear, has had much pleasure in not bestowing the Iron Cross on Herr Maximilien Harden, the editor of Zukunft, who, in a recent article, suggested that the Germans should give up the pretence that they did not begin the War. Mr. Cecil Chisholm, in his biography of our Commander-in-Chief, draws attention to the fact that both Sir John French and General Joffre are square... more...

CHAPTER I. LANDLORD'S DAUGHTER AND TENANT'S SON. In a kitchen of moderate size, flagged with slate, humble in its appointments, yet looking scarcely that of a farmhouse—for there were utensils about it indicating necessities more artificial than usually grow upon a farm—with the corner of a white deal table between them, sat two young people evidently different in rank, and meeting upon... more...

I NEVER SAW THAT LAND BEFORE I NEVER saw that land before,And now can never see it again;Yet, as if by acquaintance hoarEndeared, by gladness and by pain,Great was the affection that I bore To the valley and the river small,The cattle, the grass, the bare ash trees,The chickens from the farmsteads, allElm-hidden, and the tributariesDescending at equal interval; The blackthorns down along the brookWith... more...

NAN "Hello, Nan!" "Heyo, Ruthie!" "Where are you going?" "Over to Reid's lot." "Take me?" "No, Ruthie, can't." The little child's lip began to tremble. "I think you're real mean, Nan Cutler," she complained. Nan shook her head. "Can't help it if you do," she returned, stoutly, and took a step on. "Nannie,"... more...

THE THREE JOVIAL HUNTSMEN.          It's of three jovial huntsmen, an' a hunting they did go;An' they hunted, an' they hollo'd, an' they blew their horns alsoLook ye there!An' one said, "Mind yo'r e'en, an' keep yo'r noses reet i' th' windAn' then, by scent or seet, we'll leet o' summat to our mind."Look ye... more...

FOREWORD “Given a Camp-fire, a group of friendly girls and a good story-teller who knows and loves the girls, and the ideals of a whole community may be lifted in a night.” The teen age girl is a great problem and at the same time a great opportunity. Her ideals seem low, yet there is no time in her life when she will more gladly follow a great ideal. She seems fickle, yet she is putting her... more...

MILFORD. In his mind the traveler holds of Illinois a tiresome picture, the kitchen garden of a great people, a flat and unromantic necessity. The greatest of men have trod the level ground, but it is hard to mark history upon a plane; there is no rugged place on which to hang a wreath, and on the prairie the traveling eye is accommodated by no inn whereat it may halt to rest. Such is the Illinois as... more...

In the house where I was born, there used to be an old woman crouching all day long over the kitchen fire, with her elbows on her knees and her feet in the ashes. Once in a while she took a turn at the spit, and she never lacked a coarse gray stocking in her lap, the foot about half finished; it tapered away with her own waning life, and she knit the toe-stitch on the day of her death. She made it her... more...