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THE first suggestion of this Record of a very charming trip came from Sir Donald Currie, the genial and courteous Host of our palatial ‘House Boat.’ Others pressed the task upon me; but no great pressure was required for so congenial a work. Indeed, I need hardly say that the preparation of...
“Time dissipates to shining ether the solid angularity of facts. No anchor, no cable, no fences avail to keep a fact a fact. Babylon, and Troy, and Tyre, and even early Rome are passing into fiction. The Garden of Eden, the sun standing still in Gibeon, is poetry thenceforward to all...
It was a long time after Christmas, and the snow and ice had all melted, and the trees were green again, and the flowers and birds had all come back.
At last the train, looking desolate when it had discharged its freight of youthful humanity, moved on;[3] the platform on which the boys of St. Anselm’s had alighted was deserted once more, and the two fathers and their sons, who had watched the scene with unmistakable amusement and interest...
The bloody deed was committed in the forest of the Illinois, not far from Cahokia, on the Mississippi, and when the base-hearted Kaskaskia fled to his clansmen, with reeking hatchet, they sided with him, and, without a word in palliation of the crime, drove Pontiac’s followers from the hamlet.
THE northeast wind was very fresh that morning, and drove the seas before it briskly; but the Denver went at each of them in her bulldog fashion, and buried her white nose in them, and showered the crests of those which were specially boisterous in glistening spray over her forecastle.
TO the lecturer the introduction is the most interesting part of his lecture, in that it is generally so complimentary that his feeling of guilt and a sense of his own inferiority mars somewhat his whole discourse.
IT certainly was hard. What was the freedom of a country in which the voice of the original founders was spent in vain? Had not they, the “Forty” miners of Bottle Flat, really started the place? Hadn’t they located claims there?
Robert Strafford glanced around at the isolated spot which he had chosen for his ranch, and was seized with more terrible misgivings than had ever before overwhelmed him in moments of doubt.
A party of horsemen, riding in single file, was making its way down the steep, rugged trail leading from the interior to Santa Inez. Although they had not as yet glimpsed the little mission town, which was their destination, the blue, sparkling glint of the Pacific had, for some time, been visible...