Then we went in a launch to the Exposition where I had the usual experience in such cases, made the usual speech, held the usual reception, went to the usual lunch, etc., etc. In the evening Mother and I got on the _Sylph_ and went to Norfolk to dine.


DEAREST KERMIT: We really had an enjoyable trip to Jamestown.


He at once fell in with the suggestion and rushed up to the Congressmen with the assurance that he would there find kindred spirits. They at first thought the snakes were wooden ones, and there was some perceptible recoil when they realized that they were alive.


Among other places that he visited was Schmid's animal store, where he left his little snake.


This one he left loose, and brought the other one to Washington, there being a variety of exciting adventures on the way; the snake wriggling out of his box once, and being upset on the floor once.


Then the day of steamboat traffic began, and the growth of the first American cities and states along the river with their strength and their squalor and their raw pride.


For untold ages this river had been flowing through the lonely continent, not very greatly changed since the close of the Pleistocene.


Then this mighty steamboat traffic passed its zenith and collapsed, and for a generation the river towns have dwindled compared with the towns which took their importance from the growth of the railroads. I think of it all as I pass down the river.


At this camp there is a nice tame pussy cat which lies out here all the time, catching birds, mice, or lizards; but very friendly with any party of hunters which happens along.


This is a black belt. The people are almost all negroes, curious creatures, some of them with Indian blood, like those in "Voodoo Tales." Yesterday we met two little negresses riding one mule, bare legged, with a rope bridle.


He is a despicable kind of character; just the kind of character Dickens liked, because he had himself a thick streak of maudlin sentimentality of the kind that, as somebody phrased it, "made him wallow naked in the pathetic."


Her father had been half centaur and half god; her mother was the child of a desert lion and that sphinx that watches the pyramids;  she was more mystical than Woman.


She knew that it was with him as it had been of old with his father, and with Goom the father of Jyshak, and long ago with the gods. Therefore she only sighed and let him go.


And the wind of the autumn that was gilding the world, rushing up the slopes of the mountain, beat cold on his naked flanks. He raised his head and snorted.


When first the feet of the centaur touched the grass of that soft alluvial earth he blew for joy upon the silver horn, he pranced and caracoled, he gambolled over the leagues; pace came to him like a maiden with a lamp, a new and beautiful wonder; the wind laughed as it passed him.


He knew that the Merchant Prince awaited his return, his little eyes open all night and glittering with greed; he knew how his daughter lay chained up and screaming night and day. Ah, Thangobrind knew.


It was quite dark when he went by the towers of Tor, where archers shoot ivory arrows at strangers lest any foreigner should alter their laws, which are bad, but not to be altered by mere aliens.


And there carried Thangobrind the jeweller away those whose duty it was, to the house where the two men hang, and taking down from his hook the left hand one of the two, they put that venturous jeweller in his place; so that there fell on him the doom that he feared, as all men know though it is so long since, and there abated somewhat the ire of the envious gods.


The Sphinx was moody and silent. I had not come to pry into the secrets of Eternity nor to investigate the Sphinx's private life, and so had little to say and few questions to ask; but to whatever I did say she remained morosely indifferent.


A little later on I gathered from what they said that some imperious and ghastly thing was looking for the Sphinx, and that something that had happened had made its arrival certain.


And presently Slith and Sippy found the golden box: everything seemed happening as they had planned, it only remained to see if it was the right one and to escape with it from that dreadful place.


He knew that he could not make them better thieves during a two days' journey, and whatever doubts he had he interfered no further.


Pombo had therefore prayed to Tharma for the overthrow of Ammuz, an idol friendly to Tharma, and in doing this offended against the etiquette of the gods.


And Bloody Bill, as they rudely called Mr. Gagg, a member of the crew, looked up at the sky, and said that it was a windy night and looked like hanging.


Long before it was light the survivors of the crew were peering at the sea, and when dawn came there was the island, no bigger than two ships, straining hard at its anchor, with the wind in the tops of the trees.


It told of desolate, regretted things befallen happy cities long since in the prime of the world.


And when the princes had told their desperate loves and had departed away with no other spoil than of their own tears only, even then there came the unknown troubadours and told their tales in song, concealing their gracious names.


The bowl was full. Ackronnion was desperate: the Beast was so close.


Some nourishment that common soil has not the huge trees drained there with their colossal roots from both banks of the river. There the Gibbelins lived and discreditably fed.


Nothing put out its head from any window, and all were lighted so that nothing within could see him in the dark. The blows of his pickaxe were dulled in the deep walls.


Soon even there the twilight faded away, and when they descended at the edge of the world it was night and the moon was shining.


Their evil tower is joined to Terra Cognita, to the lands we know, by a bridge.


"Lord," said the old woman whose bonnet was lined with red, "you did make me start."


Let it suffice that the business prospered greatly, while glowing reports of Tommy Tonker's progress were sent from time to time to the old woman whose bonnet was lined with red in the labourious handwriting of Nuth.


But the gnoles had watched him through knavish holes that they bore in trunks of the trees, and the unearthly silence gave way, as it were with a grace, to the rapid screams of Tonker as they picked him up from behind  screams that came faster and faster until they were incoherent.


It had been prophecied that he should come there.


Other temples they have  who knows to what divinities?


So he lay down and soon was fast asleep: the great day was over.


For that other life that he led he realized, as in Business, the importance and value of method. He did not let his fancy roam too far until it perfectly knew its first surroundings.


The priest's share in Mr. Shap, the share of the poet, never caught the early train to the City at all.


Now that he was King in the city of Larkar and in all the desert that lay to the East and North he sent his fancy to wander further afield.


Their wrath had not tired at dawn, and neither had wearied of his accusation.


To devastate the city with a pestilence and kill all his priests was scarcely within his power, therefore he wisely concentrated such divine powers as he had in commanding a little earthquake. "Thus," thought Chu bu, "will I reassert myself as the only god, and men shall spit upon Sheemish."


All night long they spake and all night said these words only: "Dirty Chu bu," "Dirty Sheemish." "Dirty Chu bu," "Dirty Sheemish," all night long. Their wrath had not tired at dawn, and neither had wearied of his accusation.


They ceased because Sheemish had returned to a project that he had never definitely abandoned, the desire to assert himself and exalt himself over Chu bu by performing a miracle, and the district being volcanic he had chosen a little earthquake as the miracle most easily accomplished by a small god.


Heads were thrust out of windows more than usual, a woman ran out and called some children indoors, a knight rode down the street, and then more pikemen appeared along the walls, and all the jack daws were in the air.


And the first thing that he always did was to cast his eye round all the little towers that rose up from the ramparts to see that the little golden dragons were flying there on their flags.


"You will not pledge yourself unnecessarily," said Vanderhausen, strangely uttering the very words which had just floated through the mind of his companion; "but you will do so if it is necessary, I presume; and I will show you that I consider it indispensable.


Schalken had one evening outstayed all his fellow pupils, and still pursued his work in the deserted room.


You shall have sufficient security for my respectability  my word, if you are honourable: if you are sordid, my gold."


"Here he comes, sir," said Schalken, in a low monitory tone; and instantly, upon turning towards the door, Gerard Douw observed the same figure which had, on the day before, so unexpectedly greeted his pupil Schalken.


"As to my respectability," said the stranger, drily, "you must take that for granted at present; pester me with no inquiries; you can discover nothing more about me than I choose to make known.


Gerard Douw forgetting for the moment her repeated injunctions, in the immediate impulse, stepped from the bedchamber into the other, in order to supply what she desired.


The large, old fashioned room was silent, and, with the exception of himself, quite emptied of its usual inmates. An hour had thus passed away, nearly two, without any improved result. Daylight had already declined, and twilight was deepening into the darkness of night.


This last suggestion filled the mind of Schalken with a vague uneasiness, which was so unaccountably intense as to make him alike afraid to remain in the room alone, and reluctant to pass through the lobby.


At the same time he produced a small case of writing materials, and Gerard signed the important document.


It would not have been easy to conjecture the age of the intruder; but a quantity of dark hair escaping from beneath this sombre hat, as well as his firm and upright carriage served to indicate that his years could not yet exceed threescore, or thereabouts.


Rose blushed and smiled. "Such faces and such tempers seldom go together, and when they do, the compound is a love charm, few heads or hearts can resist; trust me, you will soon be a bride, girl.


The old man now cleared his voice as if about to commence, but before he had time to begin, a sudden gust of air blew out the candle which served to illuminate the room in which the poor girl lay, and she, with hurried alarm, exclaimed:     "Godfrey, bring in another candle; the darkness is unsafe."


This having been partially removed, there appeared beneath a box of some hard wood; which also they forced open and after the removal of two or three folds of linen, they discovered its contents to be a mass of golden ingots, closely packed, and, as the Jew declared, of the most perfect quality.


"Oh God! do not go, dear uncle," shrieked the unhappy girl  and at the same time she sprung from the bed, and darted after him, in order, by her grasp, to detain him.


In one hand he carried his walking stick and his hat, which he had removed, and the other hung heavily by his side.


It was a religious composition, and represented the temptations of a pot bellied Saint Anthony.


In days of uncouth realism and unimaginative imitation, it is a high pleasure to welcome work of this kind. It is a work in which all lovers of literature cannot fail to delight.


So therefore I bid thee not fear for thyself of Doom and her deed, But for me: and I bid thee hearken to the helping of my need. Or else  Art thou happy in life, or lusteth thou to die In the flower of thy days, when thy glory and thy longing bloom on high?


A Tale of the House of the Wolfings and all the Kindreds of the Mark. Written in Prose and in Verse by William Morris. (Reeves and Turner.)


It is the whole presentation of the primitive life that really fascinates. What in other hands would have been mere archaeology is here transformed by quick artistic instinct and made wonderful for us, and human and full of high interest.


These are the river and the sea of the Tears of Men." And the King said: "Men have not written of this sea."


And Intahn who had carried at the banquet for fifty years the goblet of the King set with its four sapphires each as large as an eye, said as he spread his hands towards the palace making the sign of farewell: "Not all the magic of prophecy nor yet foreseeing nor perceiving may equal the power of wine.


I watched their purple shadows trail Across the sea and hide Within the hollows of the waves That rode the rising tide.


The ancient mystery of the skies, Their silent depths from pole to pole, The void, the vastness terrifies!


God comfort, as with straining breath, Unheeding either life or death, Yet still with faint unwitting smile, His fingers fondly seek and fold The little sea stained shoe, and hold And stroke the while.


And the brilliant sea weeds scattered Like a gay mosaic shattered In a million shining fragments over all the ocean floor; While the bright hued fish go darting In swift journeys, meeting, parting, Weaving gold and scarlet patterns through the water evermore.


We have never had a more cunning kitten than Tom Quartz. I have just had to descend with severity upon Quentin because he put the unfortunate Tom into the bathtub and then turned on the water. He didn't really mean harm.


There was a horrible smashing, tearing, grinding noise, that was louder than thunder, and more hideous than the crashing of cannon against the wooden walls of a brave ship.


He sat with his watch in his hand; for every now and then he was seized with a sudden terror that the train had fallen out of its regular pace, and was crawling slowly along the rails. What if it should not reach Rugby until after the London express had left the station?


One by one the dead and wounded were carried away from the great heap of ruins; one by one the prostrate forms were borne away by quiet bearers, who did their duty calmly and fearlessly in that hideous scene of havoc and confusion.


This time Henry Dunbar did not speak so much of his anxiety to get away upon the second stage of his continental journey. His servant Jeffreys arrived at Rugby in the course of the day; for the news of the accident had reached Maudesley Abbey, and it was known that Mr. Dunbar had been a sufferer.


"To think that _this_ should happen," he muttered to himself every now and then. "Amongst all the things I've ever dreaded, I never thought of this."


Clement Austin looked at her with a blank wondering stare. "Oh! great heavens!" he cried at last; "how could I think it possible that any man could be as cruelly deceived as I have been by this woman!"


Clement caught the retreating girl by her wrist. "You shall not go thus, Margaret Wilmot!" he cried, passionately—"not thus! You shall speak to me! You shall speak plainly! You shall speak the truth! You do not love me?"


"No, mother; I feel no sense of fatigue." "But you will try to get some rest, to please me? See, dear boy, it's already nearly twelve o'clock." "Yes, if you wish it, mother, I'll go to my room," Mr. Austin answered, quickly.


For the first time that morning Margaret's eyes grew dim, but she brushed away the gathering tears with a rapid movement of her trembling hand.


"No; I do not love you." "It was all a farce, then—a delusion—it was all falsehood and trickery from first to last.


"No; I do not love you." "It was all a farce, then—a delusion—it was all falsehood and trickery from first to last. When you smiled at me, your smile was a mockery; when you blushed, your blushes were the simulated blushes of a professed coquette.


Clement closed the door as noiselessly as he had opened it, and then went slowly to the sitting room.


I seized upon the one chance of my miserable life; I plotted to win your love.


"You gave me these when I was your betrothed wife, Mr. Austin; I have no right to keep them now."


"But something transpired in that interview at Maudesley Abbey, Margaret? Henry Dunbar told you something—perhaps something about your dead father—some disgraceful secret which you never heard before; and you think that the shame of that secret is a burden which I would fear to carry?


"Is it I who am going mad; or am I dreaming all this?" "It is no dream, Mr. Austin. My letter would have only told you the truth. I am going away from here because I can never be your wife." "You can never be my wife! Why not, Margaret?"


Never, since the origin of history, had princes been so blind in the presence of facts and the portion of divine authority which facts contain and promulgate. Never had that pretension here below which is called the right of kings denied to such a point the right from on high.


It thought it possessed strength because the Empire had been carried away before it like a theatrical stage setting. It did not perceive that it had, itself, been brought in in the same fashion. It did not perceive that it also lay in that hand which had removed Napoleon.


These facts are the products of revolutions and wars, they are, they exist, they have the right to install themselves in society, and they do install themselves therein; and most of the time, facts are the stewards of the household and fouriers32 who do nothing but prepare lodgings for principles.


Machiavelli is not an evil genius, nor a demon, nor a miserable and cowardly writer; he is nothing but the fact. And he is not only the Italian fact; he is the European fact, the fact of the sixteenth century.


Now, it is not always easy to procure a dynasty. If it is absolutely necessary, the first man of genius or even the first man of fortune who comes to hand suffices for the manufacturing of a king.


Here the sages are not, as yet, separated from the skilful, but they begin to be distrustful. Power, very good. But, in the first place, what is power? In the second, whence comes it? The skilful do not seem to hear the murmured objection, and they continue their manœuvres.


The dynasty conceals the scaffolding and covers the ambulance. Now, it is not always easy to procure a dynasty.


The bourgeoisie is simply the contented portion of the people. The bourgeois is the man who now has time to sit down.


"No," she responded dully; "but let us not talk about it any more, please. I must see Louis again, you know." "If your father were here, he could help you better, dear;" there was no reproach in Mrs. Levice's gentle acceptance of the fact; "he will be so happy over it.


She hurriedly opened it and read: NEW YORK, Jan. 21, 188  . DEAR LOUIS,  I am writing this from my bed, where I have been confined for the last week with pneumonia, although I managed to write a daily postal. Have been quite ill, but am on the mend and only anxious to start home again.


"Not at all," interposed Bonaparte. "The time for action has arrived. All things considered, he is welcome to Marie Louise, but the idea of Josephine going off on a cruise of that kind breaks my heart."


The House boat is not a house, but a boat; therefore the place to look for it is not, as Dr. Johnson so well says, in the Sahara Desert, or on the Alps, or in the State of Ohio, but upon the high sea, or upon the waterfront of some one of the world's great cities."


"Because I wish to know," said Johnson. "That is always my motive in asking questions. You propose to go looking for a house boat in Central Africa; you suggest that Bonaparte lead an expedition in search of it through Europe—all of which strikes me as nonsense.


asked Solomon, rising impatiently and addressing Sir Walter. "We aren't preparing for a yacht race, that I know of.


Even Shylock stopped calculating percentages for an instant to listen. "Do you mean to tell us," demanded Shakespeare, "that the unsmoked stub of a cigar will suggest the story of him who smoked it to your mind?"


The company drew closer together and formed themselves in a more compact mass about the speaker. It was evident that they were beginning to feel an unusual interest in this extraordinary person, who had come among them unheralded and unknown.


It is not likely that there was another man in the pirate's crew with teeth exactly like the commander's, therefore I say there can be no doubt that the cigar end was that of the Captain himself."


"My visitor laughed, and repeated what he had said about my being a wonderful man. "'And the dents which my son made cutting his teeth?' he added. "'Invariably go with an American's watch. Rubber or ivory rings aren't good enough for American babies to chew on,' said I. 'They must have gold watches or nothing.


"'Why did you do that?' he stammered, as I turned the key in the lock. "'To keep my Scotch whiskey from evaporating,' I said, dryly. 'Now, my lord,' I added, 'it will pay your Grace to let me have your hat. I know who you are. You are the Duke of Brokedale. The Duchess of Brokedale has lost a valuable tiara of diamonds, and you have not lost your watch.


The excitement attending this diversion having subsided, Solomon asked: "What was the incident of the lost tiara?"


The Captain lost an eye tooth in one of his later raids; it was knocked out by a marine spike which had been hurled at him by one of the crew of the treasure ship he and his followers had attacked. The adjacent teeth were broken, but not removed.


"Good business!" cried Shylock. The stranger smiled and bowed. "Excellent," he said. "I took the words right out of his mouth. 'It was numbered 86507B!' I cried, giving, of course, the number of my own watch. "He gazed at me narrowly for a moment, and then he smiled. 'You grow more marvellous at every step. That was indeed the number. Are you a demon?


My feeling was that this would happen, and I pulled out my watch to see if it were not nearly time for him to arrive.


It could not be otherwise. Any mystery of such magnitude could no more be taken to another bureau than elephants could fly—" "They used to," said Adam. "I once had a whole aviary full of winged elephants. They flew from flower to flower, and thrusting their probabilities deep into—" "Their what?" queried Johnson, with a frown.


"Such penetration strikes me as marvellous." "I didn't know it," replied the stranger, with a smile.


I made one trip on the _Dutchman_, and she's worse than a dory for comfort; further—I don't see what good it would do us to charter a boat that can't land oftener than once in seven years, and spends most of her time trying to double the Cape of Good Hope."


"Thanks," said Charon, calmly. "But the elephants don't patronize my line. All the elephants I've ever seen in Hades waded over, except Jumbo, and he reached his trunk across, fastened on to a tree limb with it, and swung himself over.


"It'll cost you a thousand dollars a week," said Charon. "I'll subscribe fifty," cried Hamlet. "I'll consult my secretary," said Solomon, "and find out how many of my wives have been abducted, and I'll pay ten dollars apiece for their recovery."


"I am here already, sir," returned the ferryman, rising. "Most of my boats have gone into winter quarters, your Honor.


Now Captain Kidd would hardly have risked the edges of his mustache and the comfort of his lips by smoking a cigar down to the very light if he had had another; nor would he under any circumstances have smoked it that far unless he were passionately addicted to this particular brand of the weed.


And so the funds were raised without the aid of Shylock, and the shapely twin screw steamer the _Gehenna_ was chartered of Charon, and put under the command of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who, after he had thanked the company for their confidence, walked abstractedly away, observing in strictest confidence to himself that he had done well to prepare that bottle beforehand and bribe Crusoe's man to find it.


"What!" cried Cleopatra, dropping her cue in terror, and rushing for the stairs. "I was certain I felt a slight motion. You said it was the wash from one of Charon's barges, Elizabeth." "I thought it was," said Elizabeth, following closely after.


Let me see, I think I have it with me; I've kept it by me for fear of losing it, it is such a complete revelation of the actual condition of affairs in this locality. Ah! this is it," she added, taking a small bit of pasteboard from her card case. "Read that."


Up to a certain point notoriety is like a woman, and a man is apt to love it; but when it becomes exacting, demanding instead of permitting itself to be courted, it loses its charm." "That is Socratic in its wisdom," smiled Portia. "But Xanthippic in its origin," returned Xanthippe. "No man ever gave me my ideas."


"You are indeed right," said Madame Récamier, sadly. "Those were palmy days when genius was satisfied with chicken salad and lemonade.


"You are indeed right," said Madame Récamier, sadly. "Those were palmy days when genius was satisfied with chicken salad and lemonade. I shall never forget those nights when the wit and wisdom of all time were—ah—were on tap at my house, if I may so speak, at a cost to me of lights and supper.


"Well, it wasn't," moaned Lucretia Borgia. "Calpurnia just looked out of the window and discovered that we were in mid stream."


The commonplace inhabitants of this country could thus meet the truly great; and if I know them well, as I think I do, they'll pay readily for the privilege.


It would be understood that on these particular evenings the most interesting people in certain lines would be present, and would mix with outsiders, who should be admitted only on payment of a certain sum of money. The commonplace inhabitants of this country could thus meet the truly great; and if I know them well, as I think I do, they'll pay readily for the privilege.


That's an idea worthy of an American, I admit; but if I don't do it I'll have to give it up entirely, which, as you intimate, would be too bad. An incorporated salon, however, would be a grand thing, if only because it would perpetuate the salon.


Even Antony, when he wrote a sonnet to my eyebrow, wouldn't let me have it until he had heard whether or not Boswell wanted it for publication in the _Gossip_.


Charon isn't content to get rich slowly; he must make money by the barrelful, if he has to sacrifice all the comfort of everybody living on this river. Anybody'd think he was an American, the way he goes on; and everybody else here is the same way. The Erebeans are getting to be a race of shopkeepers."


"They was a crew of a few words," sighed Hawkins. "Werry few words, an' not a civil word in the lot—mostly adjectives of a profane kind.


For years I was the terror of the Venezuelan Gulf, the Spanish Main, an' the Pacific seas, but there was precious little money into it.


"What is it the poet called her?—'an infinite variety show,' or something of that sort; a perpetual vaudeville—a continuous performance, as it were, from twelve to twelve." "Morgan is right, admiral!" put in Conrad the corsair, acting temporarily as bo'sun. "The times are sadly changed, and woman is no longer what she was.


Elizabeth rose up and readjusted her ruff, which in the excitement of the moment had been forced to assume a position about her forehead which gave one the impression that its royal wearer had suddenly donned a sombrero.


"Very well," she said. "Let us below; but oh, for the axe!" "Bring the lady an axe," cried Xanthippe, sarcastically. "She wants to cut somebody."


"I don't believe a chief justice could look at things calmly and in a judicial manner if he felt as I do."


There isn't an old salt among us." "Too bad Mrs. Lot isn't along," giggled Marguerite de Valois, whose Gallic spirits were by no means overshadowed by the unhappy predicament in which she found herself.


"I second the motion," said Ophelia, "with the amendment that Madame Récamier be appointed chair lady of another sub committee, on entertainment." The amendment was accepted, and the motion put. It was carried with an enthusiastic aye, and the organization was complete.


"But on what terms?" expostulated Raleigh. "If we had all the wealth of the Indies we'd have difficulty in paying you the sums you demand."


On the return to the wharf, Sir Walter somewhat nervously asked Holmes if he thought the plan they had settled upon would work. "Charon is a very shrewd old fellow," said he. "He may outwit us yet."


His instincts are accidents of birth. Yours are cultivated, and you know it." "You are very much mistaken, Sir Walter," Charon had answered to this.


You go about wringing your hands over our misfortunes until they've got as dry and flabby as a pair of kid gloves, and yet when we ask you for a ship of suitable size and speed to go out after those pirates, you become a sort of twin brother to Shylock, without his excuse. His instincts are accidents of birth. Yours are cultivated, and you know it."


commented Raleigh. "Very," said Holmes.


This is especially important when you consider the formation of the bow of the House boat, which is rounded like the stern of most vessels, and comes near to making a pair of ripples at an angle of ninety degrees."


Observe whence it comes. Not from the Azores quarter, but as if instead of steering a straight course thither the House boat had taken a sharp turn to the north east, and was making for Havre; or, in other words, Paris instead of London seems to have become their destination."


"Nor I," said Socrates, "with a ship like this to go off cruising on, and with such a larder. Look at the thickness of that puree, Doctor—" "Excuse me," said Boswell, faintly, "but I—I've left my note—bub—book upstairs, Doctor, and I'd like to go up and get it."


As for the rest of us, having a very considerable appetite, I do now decree that it is dinner time. Shall we go below?" "I don't think I care for any, thank you," said Raleigh. "Fact is—ah—I dined last week, and am not hungry."


Here the venerable old weather prophet winked at Munchausen, and the little quarrel which had been imminent passed off in a general laugh.


"I heard no squeak," observed Dr. Johnson; "and, furthermore, I fail to see how a squeak, if I had heard it, would have portended a discovery of importance."


"And where else than to Paris would any one in search of pleasure go?" asked Bonaparte.


His brow was furrowed with anxiety, and through his massive forehead his brain could be seen to be throbbing violently, and the corrugations of his gray matter were not pleasant to witness as he tried vainly to squeeze an idea out of them.


"Because," answered Holmes, confidently, "it never happens so. If you had ever read a truly exciting sea tale, my dear Le Coq, you would have known that interesting things, and particularly signals of distress, are never seen except to larboard or dead ahead."


A property which dulls the senses of most people renders mine doubly apprehensive; therefore, gentlemen, while to you there was no auricular disturbance, to me there was. I heard Shem sliding down the mast a minute since.


I do not speak to gentlemen I have not met, nor do I permit them to address me."


"And what was—ah—Bassanio's connection with this affair?" added Portia, hesitatingly.


Can you imagine anything worse than ourselves, the phantoms of a glorious romantic past, basely deserted in the streets of a wholly strange, superficial, material city of to day?


She was the original 'I told you so' nuisance, and of course she had the newspapyruses down on her, because she never left them any sensation to spring upon the public. If she had only told a fib once in a while, the public would have had more confidence in her."


As it is, we feel that your safety depends on our remaining on deck. If there is any beer on the ice, we prefer it to tea. Two cases will suffice. "Yours respectfully, "HENRY MORGAN, Bart.; First Mate." "Hurrah!" cried Cleopatra, as she read this communication.


I shall discharge her on my return home, for she knows that I never go anywhere without them; but that does not help matters at this juncture. The sad fact remains that I could prepare a thousand delicacies for these pirates without fatal results." "You mean immediately fatal, do you not?"


When I issue an order it must be obeyed. Step lively there, Bonaparte. Get his honor ironed and summon your marines. We may have work to do before night. Hamlet, pipe Captain Cook on deck." "Aye, aye, sir," replied Hamlet, with alacrity, as he made off.


"What did you live on during that year?" asked Holmes, eying him narrowly.


"Not it," observed De Foe. "If it is, the rest of you will please keep off. It's mine, and I may want to use it again. I've been having a number of interviews with Crusoe latterly, and he's given me a lot of new points, which I intend incorporating in a sequel for the Cimmerian Magazine."


A ship is wrecked, say, in the Pacific Ocean, and ultimately all the loose metal upon her will succumb to the irresistible attraction of this magnetic upper stratum, and will find its way to its shores.


XI MAROONED WHEN Captain Holmes arrived upon deck he seized his glass, and, gazing intently through it for a moment, perceived that the faithful Shem had not deceived him.


"But, my dear Mrs. Noah," expostulated Cleopatra, "what will become of the ship?"


"Oh, well, what if we are!" said Mrs. Noah. "We did that on the Ark half the time. It doesn't make any difference which way we are going as long as we go, does it?"


"I'm perfectly willing to do anything I can," said Lucretia, "but I must confess that I don't approve of your methods of commanding a ship. A ship's captain isn't a domestic martinet, as you are setting out to be. We didn't appoint you housekeeper."


"Are we going all right?" she cried, from below. "I am afraid not," said the gallant commander.


If there's any one here who knows anything about naphtha engines, I wish they'd speak." "I'm of the opinion," said Portia, "that I can study out the theory of it in a short while."


"That's just what it is," snapped Mrs. Noah. "They guessed our plan, and have fastened us to a pole or something, but I imagine we can untie it." Portia, who had come on deck, gave a short little laugh. "Why, of course we don't move," she said—"we are anchored!" "What's that?" queried Mrs. Noah.


A mad rush up the gangway followed, and in a moment a hundred and eighty three pale faced, trembling women stood upon the deck, gazing with horror at a great helpless hulk ten feet to the rear, fastened by broken ropes and odd pieces of rigging to the stern posts of the House boat, sinking slowly but surely into the sea.


Have you ever wakened to a bright, sunny afternoon and heard yourself pronounced dead? They spoke in low, hushed tones. How unfortunate. Young fellow only thirty, dying so far away from his homeland. No family. Good thing he was well set in life.


You know how she looked when you saw her. The day was approaching when she would have no more blood, when life as you know it would stop and she would become like me.


She lay in Tod's arms, her body a mere whisper of a body. White and cold she was, like frozen milk on a cold winter's day.


She chuckled drily. "I'm afraid these things do happen, and in this case, you're it, my dear. Make the best of it."


Most days she slept past noon with their approval. Some days there was a faint flush beneath that ivory skin; other days it was pale and cool.


The doctors told me afterwards that I was semi conscious for days; that I had to be restrained.


And they sat so close in the sofa before the fire, his head resting in the hollow of her throat. They looked—peaceful; no line marred their faces. I almost fancied I saw them breathe. And on her third finger, left hand, was the ring—a thin, platinum band.


When I arrived, the landlady looked at me for a long moment, taking in my rough, dark blue complexion, unpressed clothes, red rimmed eyes, then wagged a finger playfully. "You are playing a joke, no? A wedding joke, maybe. Here, too, we haze newlyweds. But of course I understood.


If I had been a pup, I would have fitted my tail neatly between my legs and made for home. But I wasn't a pup, so I headed straight for Ria's flat to face the music. They were waiting for me, she and Tod. When I saw her, I wished I were dead.


All his landlady could tell me was that he was an American who had come to this climate for his health, and that he slept late mornings. I was licked and I knew it. If I had been a pup, I would have fitted my tail neatly between my legs and made for home. But I wasn't a pup, so I headed straight for Ria's flat to face the music.


Wondered, too, at her wraithlike slimness. She'd always been curved in the right places. "Maria has been studying much too diligently," Tod said slowly. "She's always tired lately. She hasn't been too well, either. Her throat bothers her."


I quieted her with the usual platitudes. Then I was kissing that poor, red little finger.


Within two hours after landing, I found her at a little inn in Transylvania, a quaint little place that looked as if it were made of gingerbread, and was surrounded by the huge, craggy Transylvania Mountain range. I also found Tod Hunter. "What's wrong, Maria? Why didn't you write?" I asked.


My books were and always have been a part of me, and as was to be expected, I overdid it.


We were quite alive when you found us; she was in an hypnotic state induced by her condition. She heard and saw nothing. But I knew. And I must keep my faith. I must, and you are the only one who can help me.


It had been written by Hunter, in a neat, scholar's script. Dear Morris: (It began) Why should I not have wanted Maria?


Without warning to myself or her, I nipped it affectionately. A warm glow spread through me; there was a taste more delightful than fine old brandy, or vintage wine, and I knew irrevocably that I was not cured; no, nor ever should be!


The other day all the children gave amusing amateur theatricals, gotten up by Lorraine and Ted. The acting was upon Laura Roosevelt's tennis court. All the children were most cunning, especially Quentin as Cupid, in the scantiest of pink muslin tights and bodice.


"Just in case, gamblers," the young one said. I looked up from stacking the chips I had just bought from Nick. The speaker was a skinny little guy with a sharp chin and more freckles than I'd like to have.


"That's a childish rationalization, Tex," she said with a lot more sharpness than I had expected. "There are certainly other ways to get money!" "So I'm not as smart as you," I told her.


"Poker, Tex?" Shari had asked, when the waitress was bringing dessert. "Is this becoming a problem? You've played every night this week." "No problem, Shari," I said. "I'm winning, and I see no point in not pocketing all that found money."


Her lashes veiled her violet eyes as she smiled and said more quietly, "Then you are in even worse trouble than I thought. I hear a lot about what happens to these strange people who never lose at cards or at dice or at roulette. Aren't you afraid of winding up in the gutter with your throat slit?


Lefty asked shrilly. "Or do we  ?" The sudden shrillness of his voice scared me more than anything else. He was worked up worse than I was.


"She's in another space time continuum." I pointedly ogled the girl's pretty legs going up the stairs and whistled softly. "My wife," he said, blushing. "A powerful PC, or one day will be."


But the other guy grabbed at my ankle and threw me down on the slippery cobbles again. I came up slower that time. I'd bunged up my kneecap more than I wanted to think about.


"The silliness of that statement will occur to you in a while," he said dryly.


Because you weren't aware of it, though, half of your fine will be remitted if you join the Lodge within a week. Accordingly I assess you ... uh, how much, Milly?" he asked.


"This is George Robertson, the poker whiz," Lefty said briefly to the two sleepy heads.


I shook my head. "You don't have to dress it up like this," I protested. "This is blackmail or extortion, I'm not sure which. I'm not joining anything you bunch of creeps are a part of." "You won't find that practical," he said, turning to go back inside.


"You've got a week to make up your mind about joining the Lodge. In the meantime, don't gamble." "Great," I said bitterly. "You sapped me down and rolled me for my poke, or the next thing to it.


She was a lousy dealer. Or maybe it was because it was a one handed operation. She was scoring my hits and misses with the little counter in her other hand.


Actually, your score was below average for trained observers without psi powers." She heaved a sigh, which somehow seemed to be of relief. "And now, you crazy cowpoke," she said, "tell me what this is all about."


Her voice hushed as she said it. "It's a kind of sensitivity that has nothing to do with mere kinetics. It defies time!"


"We see a little TK here in the lab right along," she said. "At least, there are those who seem to have a small genuine edge on the cards that we can explain no other way. It's small, but apparently exists. But precognition?


"I forgot to tell you," he said. "Maragon is a clairvoyant, too."


"I can't. I'm simply not that important to anyone in the world." "You're not," she said dryly. "But your eight thousand dollars was.


"Let me speak with Tex," a familiar aggressive voice said. It didn't sound as if it would stand for much nonsense. Shari still had another look of surprise in her. "For you," she said, arching her romantic eyebrows, and turning the instrument around so I was facing the 'scope and screen.


She was still dressed for dinner and had a sort of tiara over her thick tresses. "What is it?" she said. "I'm not a psi?" I demanded. "No!" she said. "Hasn't this gone  ?" "Well, then, am I crazy?" I cut in on her.


"This is where I got my training, right in this building." "I thought that brownstone house was the Lodge," I said.


"Let's get this over with. Make it simple. You may have some statistical objections to my technique tonight, but I'm not looking for fringe effects. If this hot eyed swain of yours is any good at all, he'll bat a thousand."


"That's the real reason." I looked my surprise at him, and Shari quieted down just a little. "Relax, Dr. King," he advised her. "The possession of psi powers isn't a mark of moral superiority.


Milly had hit the bull's eye. "Everybody relax a moment," Wally said. "Tell me, Dr. King, what's your attitude toward PC?" "I don't have any!" she snapped. "It's a phenomenon. I have as much attitude toward it as I do toward osmosis or toward peristalsis.


"Made me a surgeon," he said. "Never!" Shari said hotly. "Ask Tex," Wally suggested.


"That's not what Pheola says," he told her sourly, pointing to chairs we could take. "Pheola?" Shari questioned. "A powerful PC," Wally said. "She predicted you would accompany Tex tonight."


"We know all about Dr. King and her field," he said. "Proving that psi powers don't exist, right, Dr. King?"


"Wait till Maragon hears this!" And then he told me. It couldn't be, I knew. But it _was_. He proved it to me  or I proved it to us.


I gasped, feeling a surge of blessed relief. He swiped at the air with a hand. "Don't be silly!" he snapped. "You've got a psi power so incredible that  " He whirled on me while I died for good.


He started to pace back and forth across the office, his chin stuck way out ahead of him as he prowled. "I don't know what you are, Tex," he declared. "But you're no PC!" "I'm a Normal after all!" I gasped, feeling a surge of blessed relief. He swiped at the air with a hand.


"Sure. I just moved the molecules of pigment in the printing ink and reassembled them in the opposite cards. You didn't expect to feel molecular movement, did you?" "No.


she said, slumping. "It sure wasn't PC," I said. "Let me show you."


Good thing we were in a sound proof laboratory. I got her calmed down after a while. "It didn't happen!" she insisted, clutching at her temples. "If you won't holler," I said.


"He says it has terrific possibilities." And then it hit me, that delicious thought that I was among the elect, that I always had been. "What possibilities?" Shari demanded, recoiling from me. "Doing card tricks?" "To name a few," I said.


Pipe a liquid through a tube within my TK range and I can make an equilibrium reaction run uphill as the stuff flows past me. How about a one step operation to produce those rare drugs that now take forty nine separate reactions?"


she gasped. "Stop, honey! Suppose somebody walks in." "A PC like you never gets _that_ kind of surprise," I lied valiantly. "Am I?" she whispered. "Am I really a PC?" "That's why you locked the door," I said. "Remember?"


"The genetic part is right down your alley. And it's not PC, is it?" "Strictly TK," I told her. "You're the only PC in the family." "Family?" She turned pink as I went around the desk after her. "I told you the answer was 'no.'"


"This does have a significance for science," she admitted. "The genetic part is right down your alley.


"All ready," he announced. "Has anybody any messages they wish sent?" For, with the courtesy of a true host he was ready to serve his guests before he forwarded his own wireless notes.


Tom did see crowds of other persons, though, thronging the streets of Shopton, for, though the young inventor had made many flights, there was always a novelty about them, that brought out the curious.


"I guess Rad was just capering about without any special object," mused Tom, but it was not long after this that they learned to their dismay, that the colored man had had a method in his madness.


"Just tell my wife that I'm enjoying myself," requested Mr. Damon. "Bless my footstool! But this is great!


"Bless my napkin!" exclaimed Mr. Damon the next morning, as they sat down to a breakfast of fruit, ham and eggs and fragrant coffee, "this is living as well as in a hotel, and yet we are  how far are we above the earth, Tom?" he asked, turning to the young inventor.


CHAPTER IX  A WARNING BY WIRELESS Rapidly the airship ascended, and, when it was high over the town of Shopton, Tom headed the craft due west. Looking down he tried to descry Mary Nestor, in her carriage, but the trees were in the way, their interlocking branches hiding the girl.


The mysterious man is a stowaway on board!"


Tom thought considerable, but he did not answer the scientist just then. Another communication was coming to him by wireless. He listened intently.


"Then I'll help you get it out! Bless my frying pan! but I am very fond of lobster!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, in as natural tones as was possible under the circumstances. He and Tom moved cautiously back among the boxes and barrels. They were glancing about with eager eyes.


The stores were all in then, and I stowed myself away among the boxes. I had food and water, so I didn't touch any of yours," and he looked at Mr. Damon, who seemed much relieved. "And what was your object?" demanded Mr. Jenks. "I wanted to prevent you from going to Phantom Mountain." "How?"


Perhaps that will make him tell how he happened to get in our ship, and what are the plans of the gang of diamond makers. We may get valuable information that way." "I don't believe you can scare such fellows much," was Tom's opinion, but it was agreed to try.


asked Tom, in some surprise. "He was in with the diamond makers," said Mr. Jenks. "He was one of those who took me to the secret cave. But it will be the last time he ever goes there.


He, too, had been knocked down by the fleeing man. "Look out, Mr. Jenks!" cried Tom, to warn those on guard at the door of the storeroom.


"Is that the bill you marked?" asked the lawyer, handing him a bank note. "It is," replied the witness, after examining it. "You are willing to swear that is the bill?" "I am." "Please state to the court and jury the means by which you identify it."


The testimony was substantially the same as at the examination. It was proved that Tony was in the wood house, had seen the wallet, and left his companions to find Farmer Whipple; that he had been seen to put something into his pocket, and finally that the lost wallet, with a portion of the money, had been found in his pocket.


"You need not criminate yourself," interposed the judge. "He told me all about it," replied Joe, suddenly brushing up his wits. "You needn't wink at me, Tim; I'm goin' to blow the whole thing," continued he, shaking his head at the crestfallen Bunker.


"Can you tell me how I shall get to the house of John Weston, up the lake?" inquired the stranger. "John Weston is not living," replied Frank.


"And, Captain Sedley, my mother shall soon have a house to which she can invite her friends," said George Weston, with a smile.


"George! O George!" exclaimed the widow, as she folded her lost son in her arms. They both wept in each other's embrace. "Heaven be praised, you have returned!" cried the widow.


George Weston took the hand of Captain Sedley, and in fit terms expressed his gratitude. "And we have to thank him for a thousand other favors since your poor father's death. I don't know what would have become of us without him." George renewed his thanks, and called down the blessing of Heaven on the benefactor of his mother.


CHAPTER XX THE STRANGER The officer immediately released the prisoner from his confinement, and Tony sprang into the waiting arms of his mother. "Bless you, my boy!" she exclaimed, as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "I knew you were innocent!"


Some of the boys went out into the boat room, and others out of doors. They were all very particular to comply to the letter with Captain Sedley's request. The ballot box was kept closed, so that no one could read the names on the votes, and only opened enough to admit the slip of paper.


"Whom?" asked Charles. "What would you give to know?" "Yourself?" "Indeed I did not!" replied Fred indignantly.


"I will count the votes," interposed Captain Sedley, "so as to give you all the benefit of the excitement." Taking the box in his hand, he went out into the boat room. "Who do you think has got it?" whispered Charles to Fred Harper. "I have no idea; I only know whom I voted for." "Whom?" asked Charles. "What would you give to know?"


"We can try it over again, then," said Fred. "I shall vote for you, and perhaps you will vote for me." "_Perhaps_ I shall." "And that is the way it will be all through the club." "Charley, what do you say to giving Frank a re election?" said Fred, with sudden energy, while the mischief seemed to beam from his eyes.


The widow Weston was happy all day long in the presence of her children, and never ceased to thank God for all the blessings with which her life had been crowned,  the blessings of adversity as well as those of prosperity.


At the suggestion of Fred Harper, a debating society was formed; and the members derived a great deal of pleasure, and obtained an excellent mental discipline, from their discussions.


Fred Harper was elected after Tony, who served his term with credit to himself and to the discipline of the club. The Butterfly was not completed in season to be launched that year; but the following spring a second club was formed, and Tony was the first coxswain. During the winter the Zephyrs met regularly at their hall for mutual improvement.


"Whom do you intend to vote for, Fred?" asked Charles Hardy, who appeared to be very anxious about the election.


Captain John Smith was born too early. If ever a hero was brought into the world to adorn the moving picture screen, that hero of the "iron collar," of piratical capture, of wedlock with an Indian princess, was the man.


The Hingham settlement at Bare Cove (Cohasset was part of Hingham originally) found the solution in the acres of open marshland which stretched to the east.


The stone was selected with the utmost care, and the Quincy cutters declared that such chiseling had never before left the hand of man.


It has been suggested that the "keeper of young cattle at Coneyhassett," who drove his herd over from Hingham, was moved either by piety or sarcasm to give the trail its present arresting name.


Smith and a party of eight or more sailors made the trip between the ledges in a small rowboat. It is believed that they landed somewhere near Hominy Point. Their landing was not carried out without some misadventure, however, for in some way this party of explorers angered the Indians with whom they came in contact, and the result was an attack from bow and arrow.


When the sea was forced to the regretful realization that she could not monopolize the entire attention of her fellows, she was persuaded to yield up some very excellent fertilizer in the way of seaweed. But she still nags away at the cliffs and shore, and proclaims with every flaunting wave and ripple that it is the water, not the land, which makes Scituate what it is.


One wonders if all the people in the world could eat enough blancmange to consume this salty product, and is relieved to be reminded that the moss is also used for brewing and dyeing.


The old stone lighthouse, over a century old, is no longer used, and the oil lantern, hung nightly out at the end of the romantic promontory, seems a return to days of long ago.


It was these mighty marshes  this ample sweep of grass, of sea and sky  this vast earthly and heavenly spaciousness that must forever stand to all New Englanders as a background to the powerful personality who chose it as his own home.


His children worship him; his wife idolizes him; each man and woman on the place regards him with admiring affection.


His personal failings, which were those of a man of exceptional vitality, have been heavily  too heavily  emphasized. He ate and drank and spent money lavishly; he had a fine library; he loved handsome plate and good service and good living. He was generous; he was kind.


He is in fisherman's clothes  this newcomer  attired with a brave eye for the picturesque, in soft hat and flowing tie; but there are no fisherman's clothes, no, nor any other cloakings which can conceal the resilient dignity of his bearing, his impressive build, and magnificent, kingly head.


It was he who instituted scientific farming in the region, teaching the natives how to fertilize with kelp which was easily obtainable from the sea, and also with the plentiful small herring or menhaden. He taught them the proper care of the soil, and the rotation of crops. This passionate love of the earth was an integral part of the man.


Viator te major his sistit." I do not know if, as we return to the house where already a fresh group of visitors has arrived, he will pause by a corner of the yard set off by an iron fence.


"Craftsmen are still scarce, and the yeoman must depend largely on his own skill and resources.


If the women's lives were conspicuously short, it was not so with the men. Ebenezer Cobb, who died in 1801 in the one hundred and eighth year of his age, had lived in no less than three centuries, having seen six years in the seventeenth, the whole of the eighteenth, and a year of the nineteenth.


After the frame was up a procession was formed of those who were employed in the raising, consisting of carpenters, sailors, blacksmiths, etc., each taking some implement of his trade such as axes, rules, squares, tackles and ropes.


It reposed in the old house at which we are now looking until 1728, doubtless regarded as something valuable, but not in the least appreciated at its full and peculiar worth. When Major John Bradford lent it to the Reverend Thomas Prince to assist him in his "Chronological History of New England," he was merely doing what he had done many times before.


Bradford's "History of the Plymouth Plantation" is our sole source of authentic information for the period 1606 46.


There is a little row of houses  seven of them  that is all. Log cabins, two roomed, of the crudest build, thatched with wildgrass, the chinks between the logs filled with clay, the floors made of split logs; lighted at night with pieces of pitch pine.


So with a formal procession, it was again hoisted and hauled and set down in front of the entrance porch of Pilgrim Hall, where it lay like a captive mammoth animal for curious folk to gaze at.


Our man and maid could tell us all, but, alas, their voices are so far away we cannot hear them. They will never speak the words which will settle any of the oft disputed points, and, unfortunately, they will leave us forever to argue about the truth of the famous Plymouth Rock.


The harbor was once more empty. I suppose that in time the Pilgrims half forgot, half forgave, the sting of Weston's reproof. Again they gazed out and waited for a sail; again England seemed very far away.


Now the Pilgrims themselves, in none of their various accounts, ever mention the incident of the landing described above, or the rock.


Three hundred years ago! The same harbor now as then, with the highland of Cape Cod dimly outlined in the gray eastern horizon; the bluffs of Manomet nearer on the right; opposite them, on the left, Duxbury Beach comes down, and ends in the promontory which holds the Gurnet Lights.


Of itself the Plymouth Colony could hardly have become a wealthy and powerful state. Its growth was extremely slow.


This rock  which is an oval, glacial boulder of about seven tons  was innocently rearing its massive, hoary head from the water one day in December, 1620, as it had done for several thousand years previously in unmolested oblivion.


[Illustration] All that first dreadful winter, while the Pilgrims were struggling to make roofs to cover their heads, while, with weeping hearts, they buried their dead, and when, according to the good and indestructible instincts of life, which persist in spite of every calamity, they planted seed for the coming spring  all this while the Mayflower lay at anchor in the harbor.


Those fragments of rude agricultural implements which we treasure would not interest our man and maid for whom they are ordinary sights, and neither would they regard with the same historical interest that moves us the bits of stone from the Scrooby Manor in England, the bricks from the old pier at Delft Haven in Holland, or the piece of carved pew back from the old church at Scrooby.


"Well, I must confess, I should like to have been there," returned Johnson; "for it must have been rather curious work."


"Would you? Well, you shall judge for yourself." "What! can you repeat them from memory?"


"'The day after your prospectus appeared, there was an unusual and unprecedented demand for ink among us, and our green tablecloth was deluged with snippings and parings of quill pens, to the injury of one of our servants, who got a piece driven right under his nail.


"'It was quite a novel sight to see all the writing desks brought out, which had not made their appearance for a couple of months, and judging by the reams of paper visible, more than one visit must have been made to the depths of the hold.


"'I must not forget to tell you, that I believe attempts will be made to slip into your box sundry articles which are not altogether original, as they have been published already.


"By the coast, as far as possible," was the reply. "But what if we find open water, as is likely enough?"


"We can return after we have discovered the Pole quite as well as before, and even better.


"It is singular, though," said Bell, "that bears could scent us all that way off; we have not been burning anything fat which might have attracted them."


He rose early next morning, and climbed up to the top of the cone. The wind had shifted north, the air was clear, and the snow firm and smooth to the tread.


"You're right," said Bell, after a close inspection.


Altamont resolved to try a port hole through which he might fire on his assailants. He had soon scooped out a hole in the wall, but his gun was hardly pushed through, when it was seized with irresistible force, and wrested from his grasp before he could even fire.


"Here we are at last!" exclaimed Hatteras; "we can defend ourselves better now. It is five against five."


However, some action must be taken speedily, for time was passing.


Hatteras was the first to see their fresh danger, and he made no attempt to hide it from his companions. "If that is the case," said Altamont, "we must get out at all risks." "Yes," replied Hatteras; "but let us wait till night.


Then he attended to divers housekeeping matters. He had to replenish the stock of combustibles and provisions, to arrange the store houses, to mend several broken utensils, to repair the rents in coverlets, and get new shoes ready for summer excursions.


Your repeated shots cannot but have warned him. He must surely be aware that something unusual has happened." "But suppose he was too far away to hear them," replied Altamont, "or has not understood the cause of them?


"It was beasts versus men," he said, "and certainly the men cut a pretty figure."


There was no lack of work, and the old sailor's nimble clever fingers could do anything. [Illustration: ] While his hands were busy, his mind was occupied with the conversation of the preceding evening.


A second and a third shot followed. "Bravo!" again exclaimed the boatswain; "they must have fallen in luck's way!"


Each man also carried in his belt his indispensable snow knife and hatchet, and a small supply of pemmican in case night should surprise them before their return. Thus equipped, they could go far, and might count on a good supply of game. At eight o'clock they started, accompanied by Duk, who frisked and gambolled with delight.


The noise increased, and it was evident that the point of attack was the angle of the wall formed by its junction with the cliff. "They are hardly six feet off now," said the boatswain. "Right, Johnson!" replied Altamont; "but we have time enough to be ready for them."


They were prowling about the snow, and dragging enormous blocks of ice towards the house, piling them up like a wall, evidently intending to bury you alive. It is a lucky thing they did not take it into their heads to dash down the blocks from the summit of the cone, for you must have been crushed inevitably."


Soon he heard Johnson's voice in the distance calling out "Ready." "All right," was the reply. Johnson pulled his rope vigorously, and then rushed to the loop hole to see the effect.


We left him working among his chemicals, and we walked together towards my hotel. "By the way," I asked suddenly, stopping and turning upon Stamford, "how the deuce did he know that I had come from Afghanistan?"


My companion smiled an enigmatical smile. "That's just his little peculiarity," he said. "A good many people have wanted to know how he finds things out."


"That's good enough. I generally have chemicals about, and occasionally do experiments. Would that annoy you?" "By no means."


I could imagine his giving a friend a little pinch of the latest vegetable alkaloid, not out of malevolence, you understand, but simply out of a spirit of inquiry in order to have an accurate idea of the effects. To do him justice, I think that he would take it himself with the same readiness. He appears to have a passion for definite and exact knowledge." "Very right too."


Right, sir." He clicked his heels together, raised his hand in a salute, and was gone.


"What ineffable twaddle!" I cried, slapping the magazine down on the table, "I never read such rubbish in my life."


You see I have a lot of special knowledge which I apply to the problem, and which facilitates matters wonderfully. Those rules of deduction laid down in that article which aroused your scorn, are invaluable to me in practical work. Observation with me is second nature. You appeared to be surprised when I told you, on our first meeting, that you had come from Afghanistan."


I was still annoyed at his bumptious style of conversation. I thought it best to change the topic. "I wonder what that fellow is looking for?" I asked, pointing to a stalwart, plainly dressed individual who was walking slowly down the other side of the street, looking anxiously at the numbers.


8. Anatomy.—Accurate, but unsystematic. 9. Sensational Literature.


Still I had had such extraordinary evidence of the quickness of his perceptive faculties, that I had no doubt that he could see a great deal which was hidden from me.


"Read it up—you really should. There is nothing new under the sun. It has all been done before." As he spoke, his nimble fingers were flying here, there, and everywhere, feeling, pressing, unbuttoning, examining, while his eyes wore the same far away expression which I have already remarked upon.


"Get your hat," he said. "You wish me to come?" "Yes, if you have nothing better to do." A minute later we were both in a hansom, driving furiously for the Brixton Road.


"But he begs you to help him." "Yes. He knows that I am his superior, and acknowledges it to me; but he would cut his tongue out before he would own it to any third person.


It was a foggy, cloudy morning, and a dun coloured veil hung over the house tops, looking like the reflection of the mud coloured streets beneath.


"He must have left it behind," muttered my companion. "You didn't happen to see or hear a cab after that?" "No."


"And the florid face?" I asked. "Ah, that was a more daring shot, though I have no doubt that I was right. You must not ask me that at the present state of the affair." I passed my hand over my brow. "My head is in a whirl," I remarked; "the more one thinks of it the more mysterious it grows.


"There is nothing like first hand evidence," he remarked; "as a matter of fact, my mind is entirely made up upon the case, but still we may as well learn all that is to be learned."


You know a conjuror gets no credit when once he has explained his trick, and if I show you too much of my method of working, you will come to the conclusion that I am a very ordinary individual after all." "I shall never do that," I answered; "you have brought detection as near an exact science as it ever will be brought in this world."


Is there anything else that puzzles you?" "The finger nails and the Trichinopoly," I suggested.


That head of yours should be for use as well as ornament. You might have gained your sergeant's stripes last night.


I might not have gone but for you, and so have missed the finest study I ever came across: a study in scarlet, eh? Why shouldn't we use a little art jargon. There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it.


I gathered up some scattered ash from the floor. It was dark in colour and flakey—such an ash as is only made by a Trichinopoly.


"Oh, you can leave me to deal with him then. Have you any arms?" "I have my old service revolver and a few cartridges." "You had better clean it and load it. He will be a desperate man, and though I shall take him unawares, it is as well to be ready for anything."


I went to my bedroom and followed his advice. When I returned with the pistol the table had been cleared, and Holmes was engaged in his favourite occupation of scraping upon his violin.


It was close upon nine when he set out. I had no idea how long he might be, but I sat stolidly puffing at my pipe and skipping over the pages of Henri Murger's "Vie de Bohème." Ten o'clock passed, and I heard the footsteps of the maid as they pattered off to bed. Eleven, and the more stately tread of the landlady passed my door, bound for the same destination.


He saw that he was followed, no doubt, and used this means of giving me the slip. It shows that the man we are after is not as lonely as I imagined he was, but has friends who are ready to risk something for him.


Now, Doctor, you are looking done up. Take my advice and turn in." I was certainly feeling very weary, so I obeyed his injunction.


"Ah, you find it so, Mr. Lestrade!" cried Gregson, triumphantly. "I thought you would come to that conclusion. Have you managed to find the Secretary, Mr. Joseph Stangerson?" "The Secretary, Mr. Joseph Stangerson," said Lestrade gravely, "was murdered at Halliday's Private Hotel about six o'clock this morning."


"Do you mean that you are on the right track?" he asked. "The right track! Why, sir, we have the man under lock and key." "And his name is?" "Arthur Charpentier, sub lieutenant in Her Majesty's navy," cried Gregson, pompously, rubbing his fat hands and inflating his chest.


"'At what o'clock did Mr. Drebber leave your house for the train?' I asked. "'At eight o'clock,' she said, gulping in her throat to keep down her agitation.


They arose from the unsettling of the minds of the masses, and the consequent weakening of all authority. The deceased was an American gentleman who had been residing for some weeks in the Metropolis. He had stayed at the boarding house of Madame Charpentier, in Torquay Terrace, Camberwell.


"There was silence for a moment, and then the daughter spoke in a calm clear voice. "'No good can ever come of falsehood, mother,' she said. 'Let us be frank with this gentleman. We _did_ see Mr. Drebber again.' "'God forgive you!' cried Madame Charpentier, throwing up her hands and sinking back in her chair. 'You have murdered your brother.


"'On your head be it, Alice!' cried her mother; and then, turning to me, 'I will tell you all, sir. Do not imagine that my agitation on behalf of my son arises from any fear lest he should have had a hand in this terrible affair. He is utterly innocent of it. My dread is, however, that in your eyes and in the eyes of others he may appear to be compromised.


When I did look up I saw Arthur standing in the doorway laughing, with a stick in his hand. "I don't think that fine fellow will trouble us again," he said.


"'Perhaps, Alice, you had better leave us together,' she said, and her daughter withdrew. 'Now, sir,' she continued, 'I had no intention of telling you all this, but since my poor daughter has disclosed it I have no alternative. Having once decided to speak, I will tell you all without omitting any particular.' "'It is your wisest course,' said I.


There was some information in them which was new to me. I still retain in my scrap book numerous clippings and extracts bearing upon the case. Here is a condensation of a few of them:— The _Daily Telegraph_ remarked that in the history of crime there had seldom been a tragedy which presented stranger features.


That done, we rose to our feet breathless and panting. "We have his cab," said Sherlock Holmes. "It will serve to take him to Scotland Yard. And now, gentlemen," he continued, with a pleasant smile, "we have reached the end of our little mystery. You are very welcome to put any questions that you like to me now, and there is no danger that I will refuse to answer them."


"Are you—are you sure of this piece of intelligence?" stammered Gregson. "I have just come from his room," said Lestrade. "I was the first to discover what had occurred." "We have been hearing Gregson's view of the matter," Holmes observed. "Would you mind letting us know what you have seen and done?" "I have no objection," Lestrade answered, seating himself.


This last statement appeared to me to be so startling, that I could hardly believe that he was in his sober senses. There was the dead dog, however, to prove that his conjecture had been correct. It seemed to me that the mists in my own mind were gradually clearing away, and I began to have a dim, vague perception of the truth.


This I expect very shortly to do. I have good hopes of managing it through my own arrangements; but it is a thing which needs delicate handling, for we have a shrewd and desperate man to deal with, who is supported, as I have had occasion to prove, by another who is as clever as himself.


From under the door there curled a little red ribbon of blood, which had meandered across the passage and formed a little pool along the skirting at the other side. I gave a cry, which brought the Boots back. He nearly fainted when he saw it. The door was locked on the inside, but we put our shoulders to it, and knocked it in.


There were no papers or memoranda in the murdered man's pocket, except a single telegram, dated from Cleveland about a month ago, and containing the words, 'J. H. is in Europe.' There was no name appended to this message." "And there was nothing else?" Holmes asked.


There was a small portmanteau in the room, and this he pulled out and began to strap. He was busily engaged at it when the cabman entered the room.


He has an impression that the man was tall, had a reddish face, and was dressed in a long, brownish coat.


Sherlock Holmes drew a long breath, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.


In the whole world there can be no more dreary view than that from the northern slope of the Sierra Blanco. As far as the eye can reach stretches the great flat plain land, all dusted over with patches of alkali, and intersected by clumps of the dwarfish chaparral bushes.


The name of Nauvoo evidently recalled recollections to John Ferrier. "I see," he said, "you are the Mormons." "We are the Mormons," answered his companions with one voice. "And where are you going?"


The rescuing party were speedily able to convince the two castaways that their appearance was no delusion.


Young Jefferson Hope rode on with his companions, gloomy and taciturn. He and they had been among the Nevada Mountains prospecting for silver, and were returning to Salt Lake City in the hope of raising capital enough to work some lodes which they had discovered. He had been as keen as any of them upon the business until this sudden incident had drawn his thoughts into another channel.


Wherever stirring adventures were to be had, Jefferson Hope had been there in search of them. He soon became a favourite with the old farmer, who spoke eloquently of his virtues.


In the case of Lucy Ferrier the occasion was serious enough in itself, apart from its future influence on her destiny and that of many besides. It was a warm June morning, and the Latter Day Saints were as busy as the bees whose hive they have chosen for their emblem.


It was a summer evening when he came galloping down the road and pulled up at the gate. She was at the doorway, and came down to meet him. He threw the bridle over the fence and strode up the pathway. "I am off, Lucy," he said, taking her two hands in his, and gazing tenderly down into her face; "I won't ask you to come with me now, but will you be ready to come when I am here again?"


"Oh, well; of course, if you and father have arranged it all, there's no more to be said," she whispered, with her cheek against his broad breast. "Thank God!" he said, hoarsely, stooping and kissing her. "It is settled, then. The longer I stay, the harder it will be to go.


"I guess you are the daughter of John Ferrier," he remarked, "I saw you ride down from his house. When you see him, ask him if he remembers the Jefferson Hopes of St. Louis. If he's the same Ferrier, my father and he were pretty thick." "Hadn't you better come and ask yourself?" she asked, demurely.


CHAPTER II. THE FLOWER OF UTAH.


Full of trepidation—for he knew that such a visit boded him little good—Ferrier ran to the door to greet the Mormon chief. The latter, however, received his salutations coldly, and followed him with a stern face into the sitting room.


He had to seal his mouth on the subject, however, for to express an unorthodox opinion was a dangerous matter in those days in the Land of the Saints.


"And how have I neglected it?" asked Ferrier, throwing out his hands in expostulation. "Have I not given to the common fund? Have I not attended at the Temple? Have I not——?" "Where are your wives?" asked Young, looking round him. "Call them in, that I may greet them."


"In return for all this we asked but one condition: that was, that you should embrace the true faith, and conform in every way to its usages. This you promised to do, and this, if common report says truly, you have neglected."


This being so, it is impossible that you, who profess the holy creed, should suffer your daughter to violate it."


Its invisibility, and the mystery which was attached to it, made this organization doubly terrible. It appeared to be omniscient and omnipotent, and yet was neither seen nor heard. The man who held out against the Church vanished away, and none knew whither he had gone or what had befallen him.


Fresh women appeared in the harems of the Elders—women who pined and wept, and bore upon their faces the traces of an unextinguishable horror.


"The hand of the Lord shall be heavy upon you," cried young Drebber; "He will arise and smite you!"


"That will do. I have as much more to add to it. We must push for Carson City through the mountains. You had best wake Lucy. It is as well that the servants do not sleep in the house."


"Yes. She does not know the danger," her father answered. "That is well. The house is watched on every side.


He seized the young man's leathery hand and wrung it cordially. "You're a man to be proud of," he said. "There are not many who would come to share our danger and our troubles."


On it was printed, in bold straggling letters:— "Twenty nine days are given you for amendment, and then——" The dash was more fear inspiring than any threat could have been. How this warning came into his room puzzled John Ferrier sorely, for his servants slept in an outhouse, and the doors and windows had all been secured.


There was no living creature near the remains of the fire: animals, man, maiden, all were gone. It was only too clear that some sudden and terrible disaster had occurred during his absence—a disaster which had embraced them all, and yet had left no traces behind it.


"What is it?" the Mormon asked uneasily. "Be quick. The very rocks have ears and the trees eyes."


Having tethered the horses, and bade Lucy adieu, he threw his gun over his shoulder, and set out in search of whatever chance might throw in his way. Looking back he saw the old man and the young girl crouching over the blazing fire, while the three animals stood motionless in the back ground. Then the intervening rocks hid them from his view.


At the Danish capital he was again a few days late, for they had journeyed on to London, where he at last succeeded in running them to earth. As to what occurred there, we cannot do better than quote the old hunter's own account, as duly recorded in Dr. Watson's Journal, to which we are already under such obligations.


With the small competence he possessed, eked out by such employment as he could pick up, he travelled from town to town through the United States in quest of his enemies. Year passed into year, his black hair turned grizzled, but still he wandered on, a human bloodhound, with his mind wholly set upon the one object upon which he had devoted his life.


During the whole of that day they struggled on through the defiles, and by evening they calculated that they were more than thirty miles from their enemies.


"You are mad to come here," he cried. "It is as much as my own life is worth to be seen talking with you. There is a warrant against you from the Holy Four for assisting the Ferriers away."


About the middle of the second day of their flight their scanty store of provisions began to run out. This gave the hunter little uneasiness, however, for there was game to be had among the mountains, and he had frequently before had to depend upon his rifle for the needs of life.


There was seldom much over, but I managed to scrape along somehow. The hardest job was to learn my way about, for I reckon that of all the mazes that ever were contrived, this city is the most confusing. I had a map beside me though, and when once I had spotted the principal hotels and stations, I got on pretty well.


When I got to London my pocket was about empty, and I found that I must turn my hand to something for my living. Driving and riding are as natural to me as walking, so I applied at a cabowner's office, and soon got employment. I was to bring a certain sum a week to the owner, and whatever was over that I might keep for myself.


"You are at liberty, sir, to give your account, which I again warn you will be taken down." "I'll sit down, with your leave," the prisoner said, suiting the action to the word. "This aneurism of mine makes me easily tired, and the tussle we had half an hour ago has not mended matters. I'm on the brink of the grave, and I am not likely to lie to you.


At the sight, I leaned my back against the door and laughed loud and long. I had always known that vengeance would be sweet, but I had never hoped for the contentment of soul which now possessed me.


On the very night after his capture the aneurism burst, and he was found in the morning stretched upon the floor of the cell, with a placid smile upon his face, as though he had been able in his dying moments to look back upon a useful life, and on work well done.


"Never mind," I answered, "I have all the facts in my journal, and the public shall know them. In the meantime you must make yourself contented by the consciousness of success, like the Roman miser— "'Populus me sibilat, at mihi plaudo Ipse domi simul ac nummos contemplor in arca.


"I then proceeded to make a careful examination of the room, which confirmed me in my opinion as to the murderer's height, and furnished me with the additional details as to the Trichinopoly cigar and the length of his nails. I had already come to the conclusion, since there were no signs of a struggle, that the blood which covered the floor had burst from the murderer's nose in his excitement.


It was the _Echo_ for the day, and the paragraph to which he pointed was devoted to the case in question.


I then walked slowly down the garden path, which happened to be composed of a clay soil, peculiarly suitable for taking impressions. No doubt it appeared to you to be a mere trampled line of slush, but to my trained eyes every mark upon its surface had a meaning.


"We will control it." "All men will have it  the best and the worst ... and there is no defence."


"You shall be greater," said the Professor, "though only we shall know it  you and I.... You will save the world  from itself."


* * * * * In the silence a rat had appeared in the distant corner. The Professor nodded as he saw it. The animal stopped as the man's eyes came upon it; then sat squirrellike on one of the shelves as it ate a crumb of food.


There was a cabinet to be opened, and he stared long in the dim light at the object he withdrew. He looked approvingly at the exquisite workmanship of an instrument where a generator of the cathode ray and an intricate maze of tubing surmounted electro magnets and a round lead bulb.


There was a gentle hissing from within glass tubes, the faint glow of a blue green light. And that was all, until  with a crash like the ripping crackle of lightning, a white flame arced between the terminals of the heavy cables. It hissed ceaselessly through the air where now the tang of ozone was apparent.


* * * * * The young man was stammering. "What do you mean?  a death ray evolved?" And: "What of it?" he demanded; "what of it? What's that got to do with it?"


The Professor drew Avery with him as he retreated noiselessly from the instrument. "Will you close the switch," he whispered.


In the stillness the man's words came harsh and commanding   "Do you see the cities," he said, "crumbling to ruins under the cold stars? The fields? They are rank with wild growth, torn and gullied by the waters; a desolate land where animals prowl. And the people  the people!


"What do you mean?  a death ray evolved?" And: "What of it?" he demanded; "what of it? What's that got to do with it?" "A death ray," the other agreed. "You have dreamed, Avery  one must in order to create  but it is only a dream.


Did not the wise Porphyry think that all souls come to be born because of water, and that 'even the generation of images in the mind is from water'?


And the man had whole cityfuls of people to do his basest bidding—girls, women! Why in the name of passionate folly THIS one in particular? asked the little man, and scowled at the world, and licked his parched lips with a blackened tongue. It was the way of the master, and that was all he knew. Just because she sought to evade him....


The master found himself staring down at a red, smashed thing on the ground that, in spite of partial obliteration, could still wriggle unavailing legs. Then when the gaunt man pointed to another mass that bore down upon them, he drew his sword hastily. Up the valley now it was like a fog bank torn to rags. He tried to grasp the situation.


The gaunt man checked his leader's tracking, and the little man on the white horse rode behind, a man lost in a dream. They rode one after another, the man with the silver bridle led the way, and they spoke never a word.


"No man calls me a coward," he said. "No. A broken sword is better than none....


Its purple distances melted at last into the bluish slopes of the further hills—hills it might be of a greener kind—and above them invisibly supported, and seeming indeed to hang in the blue, were the snowclad summits of mountains that grew larger and bolder to the north westward as the sides of the valley drew together.


The heart from out my bosom you've decoyed, Though day by day with strenuous endeavour I would recall it to its aching void. I strive in vain my heart is yours for ever.


Therein my heart was imaged in a bower Of tinsel roses, with a tender verse on ; I followed it in less than half an hour Impatient for your gratitude in person.


Why, of course, it was the face of Beatrice, feature for feature. How strange!—and, loving Beatrice, he bought it, because of his great love for her!


Faces of Greece and Rome gazed at him suddenly from a broad window, and for a few moments he forsook the motley beauty of modern London for the ordered loveliness of antiquity.


Antony's was the easier dream. The moon and Antony came up the wood together from opposite ends, and when Antony entered his châlet Silencieux was already waiting for him, her head crowned with a moonbeam. He kissed her softly and took her with him out into the ferns.


Though to break any image of you, dear," he added tenderly, "would seem a kind of sacrilege. You know how I love you, Beatrice, don't you?" "Of course I do, dear; and it was sweet of you to buy her for my sake, and I'm quite silly to night. To morrow I shall think nothing about her.


Beatrice gave the mask back to Antony, with a little shiver. "It is very wonderful, very strange, but she makes me frightened. What was the story the man told you, Antony?"


I am sorry you bought her, Antony. I cannot bear to look at her. Won't you take her away?


"That was a water hen, dear. She has a little house, a warm nest, close to the water among the bushes yonder, and she calls like that to let her little children know she's coming home with some dainty things for lunch. She means 'Hush!


Perhaps it was that they were so like words—words to which he had given all the love and worship of his life.


He held the beetle in his hand a long while, loving it. Then he said to himself, with a smile in which was the delight of a success: "A vase shaped beetle with deer's horns." The phrase delighted him. He set the insect down on the path, tenderly. He had done with it.


She wore a hood of finely woven shadows, yet, though she drew it close, sunbeams trooping westward flashed strange lights across her haunted face.


Is it Beautiful? Is it Music? If it be that, no matter how it has been made!


The meaning of your mouth, who knows? O mouth, where many meanings meet— Death kissed it stern, Love kissed it sweet, And each has shaped its mystic rose.


Perhaps you don't know it yourself as yet, but you will before long." "But, Beatrice, the poem shows its own origin. Has your image blue eyes, or curiously coiled hair—" "Oh, yes, of course, you thought of me. You filled in from me.


And as they listened, Antony's heart had stolen back to Silencieux, and once more in fancy he pressed his lips to hers in the dusk: "It is with such an eternal passion that I love you, Silencieux."


"Throw it to the winds." "They are too busy." "Bury it."


Would give me life and soul anew, A second life, a soul anew, My dark Rosaleen!


See her there at the end of the bed. She is smiling, Daddy—" Then lower, "You will not make me kiss her any more, will you, Daddy?"


One hour, and two hours, went by, and then Beatrice, in alarm, took the lantern and courageously braved the blackness of the wood.


Over all was a breath of imminent disaster, a look of sorrow from which there was no escape. It was not many yards away from a merry high road, but once in the shade of its lanes, it seemed as though you had been shut away from the world of living men.


Oh, how tender those nights was Silencieux! Antony sat and watched her face in awe and wonder. Surely it was the noblest face that had ever been seen in the world.


"It would make barren a whole meadow." "Forget it." "I will—And you?" "I will." And Antony and Silencieux laughed softly together by the sea.


But when he looked at Wonder, he took a more serious view of bacilli. "You must have your well looked to at once," he said. "Your little girl is very ill. She must be kept very quiet, and on no account excited."


Then she understood, and with a hopeless sigh went down the wood again.


"Wonder, my little Wonder," said Antony caressingly, as he bent over her.


Is she a kind lady, Daddy?" "Sometimes." "She is very beautiful. She is like little mother. But her face is so white.


So one flies from a haunted house, or comes out of an evil dream.


For some moments of self conscious thought she shrank into a symbol,—a symbol of but one of the elements of the mighty world. Yet to this element did not all the others, more brutal in force, more extended in space, conspire?


Her life, so concentrated, so self absorbed, seemed more of an essence, potently distilled, compared with this abounding ichor of existence, that audibly sang in brimming circulation through the veins of this carelessly immortal earth.


"O God," he cried, "here in the sunlight—It is true—" And, a man with the doom of his nature heavy upon him, he once more went out into the wood.


"Say some more, Daddy." The sobbing cadences of the greatest of Irish songs came to Antony's mind, and he crooned a verse or two at random: All day long, in unrest, To and fro, do I move.


Death is coming!" Silencieux! Ah, how happy they had been before the coming of Silencieux! How frail is our happiness, how suddenly it can die!


Antony was sitting at his desk, writing, with his door open.


And it brought some ease to his fiercely tortured heart to notice that it was his ministrations that the dying child seemed to welcome most. For the most part she lay in a semi conscious state, heeding nothing, and only moaning now and again, a sad little moan, like an injured bird.


The very soul within my breast Is wasted for you, love!


"Who but I should bid you sing of Wonder?" answered Silencieux. "I loved her. That was why I took her from you, that by your grief she should live for ever.


The spiritual essence of it seemed to have passed over into my words, and I loved the reincarnation best.


Had his senses deceived him? They must have deceived him.


"Never." "Whatever that voice should say to you?" "I shall never hear that voice again."


There is something in the love of a woman like you to which the best man is unequal. We can love—and greatly—but it is not the same."


There was a morning star in Antony's face. "And then," said Antony, "we went into the valley—the Valley of Beauty and Death." Beatrice pressed his hand and looked all her love at him for comfort.


There is not a shape subtler than a common bowl, and the colours are alphabetical—and yet, by what taking of thought could she have achieved an effect so grand, at once so beautiful and so holy?"


Was not God created of all pure overflows of the human soul, the kind light of human eyes that not all the suffering of the world can exhaust, the idealism of the human spirit that not all the infamies of natural law can dismay?


"Whatever that voice should say to you?" "I shall never hear that voice again." "O Antony, is it really true? You have come back to me. I can hardly believe it."


For a shadow I have missed the lovely reality of a little child—and for a shadow, my own faithful wife, I have all this time done you cruel wrong.


Poor dream led fool, poor lover of coloured shadows! "And yet, how proud I was of the madness!


So I said: there is nothing real but art. The material of art passes—human love, human beauty—but art remains. It is the image, not the reality, that is everlasting. I will live in the image."


He was afraid of the sea, for the sea was Silencieux's for ever. In its depths lay a magic harp which filled all its waves with music—music lovely and accursed, the voice of Silencieux. That he must never hear again.


Some days she almost feared for his reason, and she longed to watch over him, but his old irritation at her presence had returned.


The first afternoon Beatrice noted him take a great hammer, and set out up the wood.


I often wonder what mysterious sin he had committed—" "Yes," laughed Beatrice, "he looked a terribly depraved old tree, I must admit—but don't you think that when we have arrived at the discussion of the mysterious sins of trees it is time to start home?"


The immortality of art indeed is one of those curious illusions of man's self love which a moment's thought dispels.


I will bring you Silencieux." And so, till he was well enough to leave his bed, Silencieux hung facing Antony on his bedroom wall, and on his first walk out into the air, he took her with him and set her once more in her old shrine in the wood.


"Good bye, Antony, good bye," she cried. "I had but human love to give you.


"I am Beatrice," said his wife gently; "Beatrice, who loves you with her whole heart."


Her brown dress had the exact tint which a painter would have admired. The slanting mellow sunlight fell upon her as she stood; and the vine leaves, already frost tinted, made a rich, warm border, as they hung over the old house door.


Maggie's devotion added materially to her happiness; and both she and Maggie never forgot that this devotion was to be in all things subservient to the duty which she owed to her mother.


Maggie, I must go, now. My father will be waiting dinner for me." "Dinner! I was going to ask if you would not stay to tea. I hear mamma stirring about in her room. And Nancy is getting things ready, I see.


She looked up as he entered the court, and his footsteps sounded on the flag walk.


But she came home once a year, more lovely and elegant and dainty than ever; and Maggie thought, with truth, that ripening years were softening down her volatility, and that her aunt's dewlike sayings had quietly sunk deep, and fertilized the soil.


With all a child's deficiency of reasoning power, she had never considered how impossible it was that a selfish, vain, and impatient boy could become a meek, humble, and pious man, merely by adopting a profession in which such qualities are required.


That day, after dinner, Mr. Buxton began to ask his opinion of Erminia's appearance. Frank answered at once: "She is a dazzling little creature. Her complexion looks as if it were made of cherries and milk; and, it must be owned, the little lady has studied the art of dress to some purpose in Paris."


Before he could answer, she ran up stairs. Mrs. Browne came down. "Oh, Mr. Frank! Have you been sitting in the dark?


"Not to day!" said he reproachfully. "You are very hard upon me. Let me come to tea. If you will, I will leave you now.


Let me come to early tea. I must speak to my father. He does not know I am here. I may come to tea. At what time is it? Three o'clock. Oh, I know you drink tea at some strange early hour; perhaps it is at two. I will take care to be in time."


She hid her face in her mother's lap for an instant; and then she lifted it up, as brimful of the light of happiness as is the cup of a water lily of the sun's radiance.


Nancy was awaiting Maggie, the side gate. "Bless us and save us, bairn! what a time it has taken thee to get the water. Is the spring dry with the hot weather?" Maggie ran past her. All dinner time she heard her mother's voice in long continued lamentation about something.


"God bless thee, bairn," said Nancy, solemnly. It brought the low music of peace back into the still recesses of Maggie's heart. She began to look out for her lover; half hidden behind the muslin window curtain, which waved gently to and fro in the afternoon breezes.


how I wish I had a fortune! I should so like to give it all to him."


At last he became so deeply impressed with Edward's knowledge of law, as to consult him about some cottage property he had in Woodchester.


'Poor thing,' says I to myself, 'to be kept all this time at that confounded well' (for I'll not deny that I swear a bit to myself at times  it sweetens the blood), 'and she so tired.' I e'en thought I'd go help her; but I reckon she'd some other help. May I take a guess at the young man?"


She answered at random, and startled her mother by asserting that she thought "it" was very good; the said "it" being milk turned sour by thunder.


Three o'clock. Oh, I know you drink tea at some strange early hour; perhaps it is at two. I will take care to be in time." "Don't come till five, please. I must tell mamma; and I want some time to think. It does seem so like a dream. Do go, please."


But Maggie," said she, smiling up into her friend's face, "I think it would have made you laugh, for all you look as if a kiss would shake the tears out of your eyes, if you could have seen my uncle's manner to me all day.


He went away, leaving her sick and dizzy with the effort to be calm and collected enough to think.


In two hours, I will come back again; for your sake, time is precious. Even while we speak he may be arrested. At eleven, I will come back."


She had that strange consciousness, not to be described, of the near neighborhood of some human creature, although she neither saw nor heard any one for the first instant.


Every color seemed dimmed and darkened; and the crisp autumnal glory of leaves fell soddened to the ground.


"Oh, Maggie!" said he, suddenly throwing himself at her feet, "save me! You can do it. Write to Frank, and make him induce his father to let me off. I came to see you, my sweet, merciful sister! I knew you would save me. Good God! What noise is that?


When he spoke, his voice was feeble and imploring. "The police are after me, Maggie! What must I do? Oh! can you hide me? Can you save me?"


But when Maggie opened the kitchen door, she saw how the cold, pale light of a winter's day had filled the air. "You're late with your shutters to day, miss," said the man. "I hope Nancy has not been giving you all a bad night.