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The Pilgrims' First Christmas
by Josephine Pittman ScribnerT was a bleak December day in the year 1620. All day long, the Mayflower struggled along the coast amidst the rain and snow, her rudder broken, her masts split in three pieces, and heavy seas dashing over her bow. The men had been called to man the oars and all were filled with anxiety and grief and apprehension of unknown perils to be faced. It wa..
Wise Men and a Mule
by W. C. TuttleHe takes off his clothes and goes to bed, kinda chuckling to himself. Maud S wasn’t no relation to the famous trotting mare of the same name, unless you figure back to the dim and distant past to the time when the devil got sore at a balky horse. He tried to haul it along by the ears, but the horse dug in his hoofs, the same of which stretched them..
Modern Essays and Stories
by Frederick Houk LawIn all schools pupils are expected to write “essays” but, curiously enough, essay-reading and essay-writing are taught but little. In spite of that neglect, the essay is so altogether natural and spontaneous in spirit, so intensely personal in expression, and so demanding of excellence of prose style, that it is the form, par excellence, for consid..
Tied Up for Tombstone
by W. C. TuttlePiperock ain’t what a stranger would call a paradise on earth, and she don’t qualify for the milk and honey, but she’s a man’s town—all up and down the street. Me and Lodestone pilgrims through the dust up to “Buck” Masterson’s saloon, and I goes inside. Buck and “Tellurium” are there, and they welcomes me like a lost brother. Buck salutes me with ..
Coasting Bohemia
by J. Comyns CarrThe papers which compose this volume make no claim to any sort of ordered plan in their composition. They reflect in some measure the varied activities of a life that has been passed in close association with more than one of the arts, and therein lies their sole title to so much of coherence as they may be found to possess.The reader who accompani..
Portrait of a Man with Red Hair
by Hugh WalpoleThe soul of Charles Percy Harkness slipped, like a neat white pocket-handkerchief, out through the carriage window into the silver-blue air, hung there changing into a tiny white fleck against the immensity, struggling for escape above the purple-pointed trees of the dark wood, then, realising that escape was not yet, fluttered back into the carria..
Stepping Westward
by M. E. FrancisThe wayside hedgerow, gay with its autumn tints, stretched its undulating length beside the rather stony lane that wound upwards from the high road, and lost itself amid a multiplicity of sheep-tracks on the down. It was one of those mild days that here in the south country cheat the fancy with their likeness, not merely to spring, but to summer.&n..
The Autobiography of Upton Sinclair
by Upton SinclairAll through my seventy-one years of writing life—I started at thirteen—I have had from my readers suggestions that I should tell my own story. When I was halfway through those writing years I accepted the suggestion and wrote a book called American Outpost. The major part of that book, revised and brought up to date, is incorporated in this volume...