"THE POET OF THE NIGHT" "I am a Virginian; at least, I call myself one, for I have resided all my life until within the last few years in Richmond." Thus Edgar A. Poe wrote to a friend. The fact of his birth in Boston he regarded as merely an unfortunate accident, or perhaps the work of that malevolent "Imp of the Perverse" which apparently dominated his life. That it... more...

CHAPTER I It was the custom of the geographers of a period not remote to grapple somewhat jejune facts to the infant mind by means of fanciful comparison: thus, Italy was likened to a boot, France to a coffee-pot, and the European domain of the Sultan to a ruffling turkey. In this pleasant scheme the state of New York was made to figure as a couchant lion, his massy head thrust high in the North... more...

Chapter I. Life in a Syrian Quarantine. Voyage from Alexandria to Beyrout--Landing at Quarantine--The Guardiano--Our Quarters--Our Companions--Famine and Feasting--The Morning--The Holy Man of Timbuctoo--Sunday in Quarantine--Islamism--We are Registered--Love through a Grating--Trumpets--The Mystery Explained--Delights of Quarantine--Oriental vs. American Exaggeration--A Discussion of Politics--Our... more...

SPRING BLOSSOMS. Here, for the infant minds, fair spring,Blossoms of bright truth we bring,Seeds of virtue there to sow,Ere a single weed can grow. Here may you learn how sweet the bliss,To worship nature’s loveliness,Escaping through her flow’ry charm,Each thought or wish to do a harm. For when the tender buds of truth,Expand within the minds of youth,They cast a bloom around the heartThat will... more...

CHAPTER I. "Give me a flounder, Johnny?" said a little girl of eleven, dressed in coarse and ragged garments, as she stooped down and looked into the basket of the dirty young fisherman, who sat with his legs hanging over the edge of the pier. "I'll bet I won't," replied Johnny, gruffly, as he drew the basket out of the reach of the supplicant. "You needn't come round... more...

LETTER I Concerning the journey. The unlawful demons invoked bycertain of the barbarians; their power and the manner oftheir suppression. Suppression. The incredible obtuseness ofthose who attend within tea-houses. The harmonious attitudeof a person of commerce. VENERATED SIRE (at whose virtuous and well-established feet an unworthy son now prostrates himself in spirit repeatedly),— Having at length... more...

Hark! hark! the dogs bark,The beggars are coming to town;Some in rags and some in tags,And some in a silken gown.Some gave them white bread,And some gave them brown,And some gave them a good horse-whip,And sent them out of the town.   Little Jack Horner sat in the corner,Eating a Christmas pie;He put in his thumb, and pulled out a plum,And said, oh! what a good boy am I.   There was an old womanLived... more...

THE COLLISION “Isn’t it a grand and glorious feeling?” exclaimed Bob Layton, a tall stalwart lad of fifteen, as he stretched himself out luxuriously on the warm sands of the beach at Ocean Point and pulled his cap a little further over his eyes to keep out the rays of the sun. “I’ll tell the world it is,” agreed Joe Atwood, his special chum, as he burrowed lazily into the hollow he had... more...

MOUNTAIN-TOPSFrères de l'aigle! Aimez la montagne sauvage!Surtout à ces moments où vient un vent d'orage.Victor Hugo.I belong to the great and mystic brotherhood of mountain worshippers. We are a motley crowd drawn from all lands and all ages, and we are certainly a peculiar people. The sight and smell of the mountain affect us like nothing else on earth. In some of us they arouse... more...

CHAPTER ION THE CANYON TRAIL. “Hello, there! What in the name of reason is this?” The horseman’s excited cry was echoed by a startled neigh from his beast, which wheeled about so suddenly that he nearly precipitated both himself and rider into the gulch below. “Oh! I’m sorry––Hold on, Zu! Go! Do, please. Quick! It’s so narrow just beyond and I can’t––” The stranger obeyed,... more...