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Londoners In London : After The Summer Holiday
SEPTEMBER, in certain respects, is the saddest month in the year. No sooner has it dawned than back to London, back to worries and responsibilities, back (oh, sombre event !) to quarter-day, come the thousands and thousands of small people who have contrived by long, patient economy to pass a fortnight at the seaside.
London In November : Guy Fawksing
BRIGHTON CRESCENT is so full of misnomers, incongruities, surprises, that it has become a favourite idling-place of mine. To begin with, it is miles and miles away from Brighton—lies, in fact, in Hammer-smith ; and secondly, heaven only knows (and I don't believe even heaven can possibly know) why it has been named a crescent.
A Londoner's Reflections On Christmas : Its Costs And Consequences
AFTER all these many days of rejoicing, what a change has come over London and the Londoners ! Gone, out of shop windows and houses, the colour, light and mirth of festivity. Gone, out of our hearts, the cheerfulness and gaiety that made even the austerest and most pompous of us commit all kinds of follies.
The London Children And The New Democracy
IT was only a fortnight ago, on a bright July afternoon, that the poor children of darker London east aside their tattered grammars and thumb - marked copy-books, trooped hilariously out of the inky schoolrooms and plunged straight into the delights and adventures of a summer holiday.
In Clubland. Afternoon Wool-workers. The Airship. The Moratorium
STRANGE sights are to be witnessed, and stranger things are to be heard, in one of the leading clubs of the West End. To begin with, ladies, small boys and little girls have settled down in the waiting-rooms, the ladies burdened with parcels, the children munching chocolates, swinging their legs and staring with youthful innocence.
Ministers In State. Paddington Prepares. The Military Band As Recruiter. Territorials And Christians
PARLIAMENT prorogued, honourable members at liberty to vanish on a holiday, but none of the charms of the moors, or the sands, or of peaceful, drowsy villages for his Majesty's principal Ministers of State.
The Forty-fourth Anniversary Of Sedan. Smaller Stageland. Soho In The Eighth Week
TODAY, the first of September, sees the French residents of Soho in a particularly acute state of anxiety and emotion. For to-day is the forty-fourth anniversary of the disastrous battle of Sedan. Behold, looking backwards, the French Emperor made a prisoner, the French nation humiliated.
Belgian Refugees. The Vandenbergers. Alexandra Palace. Trafalgar Day
THIS chilly, misty evening, it is my privilege to entertain the Vandenberger family—or, rather, what remains of the Vandenberger family—in a corner of one of the refreshment-rooms of Waterloo Station. Five days have elapsed since they arrived in London from a ruined Belgian village. London, during those five days, has taken good care of the Vanden-bergers.
Darkness In London. Cabbages And Rabbits
EVIDENTLY the end, the very end of summer weather, and the decisive arrival of autumn, with its mists and its melancholy. At least the nights are melancholy ; a chill in the air, half-darkened streets, the fall of dead leaves, pale flashes from the searchlights, misty shadows by the river-side, dim ambiguities in the parks.
No. 2. The Lord Mayor's Show. The Cathedral. The Churches
ONLY a few months have elapsed since the retiring Lord Mayor, the Aldermen and Sheriffs, the famous State Chariot, and the equally celebrated Coachman, were all of them on their way to Brussels and Paris. In both cities, an enthusiastic welcome : crowds, cheers, speeches, bouquets and banquets.
The Crossing
THE darkest of nights, with a watery moan and a few vague, tearful stars, and very melancholy sounds the swish of the sea, as I grope my way about the inky-black platform of Folkestone Harbour station in quest of the room where an official from Scotland Yard is installed. Imperative that I should find this official.
Not A ` New ' Town—the Same City. The Streets. The Soup-kitchens. The Churches
IT has been repeatedly and persistently asserted, in hastily written articles and books, that the war has created an entirely new Paris. Journalists and novelists have proclaimed themselves astonished at the calm and the seriousness of the Parisians, and at the composed and solemn aspect of every street.
Paris - On The Boulevards. In The Luxembourg Gardens. On The Banks Of The Seine, " On Ne Dine Plus A Paris "
VERY afternoon, from four to six o'clock, behold M. Hippolyte Durand, a corpulent, warm-hearted and white-headed Frenchman, established on the terrace of one of the leading boulevard cafés. Occasionally I join him in these sittings. But whereas in times gone by M. Durand was the most sociable and most garrulous of Parisians, today he shakes one's hand limply, and frankly confesses himself averse from conversation, so that our meetings on the café terrace resolve themselves into a silent inspection of the passers-by.
Paris - The Heat-wave. The New Enemy. " Soldiers Three " In The Latin Quarter
TEN months have just elapsed since that memorable Saturday night when the official buildings of Paris were suddenly, rapidly and dramatically pasted with little strips of paper calling every able-bodied citizen to arms ; ten months have come and gone since the first trainload of French soldiers rumbled out of the Gare du Nord, at three o'clock in the morning, for a destination unknown.
Paris - The Wounded In The Bois De Boulogne. Vanished Prejudices At Versailles. Clericalism And The Republic
ONE radiant afternoon it is my privilege to take a mutilated French soldier—a young man of twenty-five, whom we will call Louis Moreau-for a drive in the Bois. As far back as September last, at the battle of the Marne, the greater part of his left leg was shot away and he was terribly wounded in the head.
The Giant Ship
SOMEWHERE in the Western Ocean in those tossing leagues of sea that lie to the eastward of the fishing grounds upon the Grand Banks of Newfoundland the stout bark Etoile de Saint Maio rolled sullenly in a dark sea and shook from her idle sails enfolding masses of fog.
Notes On Giant Ships.
The eye of the imagination sees a world in which there are no fixed dimensions. The hero who has saved us from death becomes as we tell of him a giant of strength and prowess. The fish which we see just eluding our hook appears to be a vast and beautiful creature of untold weight and of strength sufficient to sink our boat.
AN autumn gale gathering its forces in the sombre depths of the Western Ocean winged its way toward the shores of Brittany. Before it in warning, myriad-footed, swept a torrential rain. Night was falling in Morlaix that sits with her ancient feet in the sea, and in the twilight the heavy drops that beat upon her roofs and poured in torrents down her cobbled streets shone.
Notes On The Flying Dutchman And Punishment Ships.
This Breton legend of deathless punishment was collected by Elvire de Cerny in 1859 from an aged sailor and reported in the Revue des traditions populaires (XV, p. 96). It belongs to the class of Flying Dutchman legends and contains many details of striking interest.
La Belle Rosalie
WIND-SHELTERED by white cliffs and rock-perched beyond the grasp of channel waves nestles defiantly the quaint fishing town of Dieppe. Her cobbled streets run precipitously to her harbor, and when the fishing fleet is out the sweet calm of surrounding fields vies with the quiet of her ancient churchyards.
Notes On Phantom Ships
The annals of the sea contain many apparently authentic accounts of sea apparitions. They are reported with much detail and with that certainty which indicates that they are not merely creatures of the storyteller's art, but are reports of actual experiences of the narrator.
The Serpent Junk
A HIGH-STERNED junk, not unlike the smaller caravels of Columbus, lay idly by the shores near Foochow enveloped in the mists of morning. Marshbirds discovered her by the light of dawn and flew away shrilly crying.
Notes On Devil Ships
The dragon, serpent or snake is the most interesting creature in the range of mythological fauna. Knights and heralds emblazon him on cloth of gold; troubadour and bard sing his story ; painter and sculptor depict his varying forms; folklorist and philologist record his ancient lineage. Our story of the Dragon junk is peculiarly typical of the class of devil ships.
Stone Boat
AT night about the lodge fires the old men tell that many years ago, before the white men came, there lived in a village of the Six Nations, Abeka, a young hunter, who was straight and tall and keen of eye. All of the signs of the forest were to him as spoken words, and he knew all the woodland paths and the trails of the wilderness from the great portages of the north to the great falls.
Notes On The Death Voyage
The legend of the stone canoe is the product of the eternal striving of man to push aside the veil which hides the hereafter, to fathom the dark abyss, and explore what a fine poetry has called the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
Giotto - Introductory
THERE are few characters of any real importance in the history of Italian art, concerning whom we possess less certain or genuine information than we do in regard to Giotto di Bondone.
Forerunners Of Giotto
IN the history of her painting, Tuscany does not greatly differ from certain other provinces of Central and Northern Italy. In comparison with Rome, she cannot be said to have possessed anything deserving the title of a native school of painters until at a relatively late period.
Giotto's Early Years
GIOTTO DI BONDONE was born at Colle, a little village belonging to the Commune of Vespignano in the beautiful valley of the Mugello, not many miles to the north of Florence. No authenticated evidence has been handed down to us regarding the exact date of his birth, a fact which has given rise to various discussions and conjectures on the part of art-historians, for the past two centuries, as to the most probable year in which that important event took place.
The First Works Of Giotto
BOTH Ghiberti and Vasari tell us that Giotto's first independent works were painted for the church of the Badia in Florence, and the latter writer dwells at length upon the powerful expressiveness of an Annunciation of the Virgin (evidently a fresco) in the chapel of the high-altar of that church.
Giotto - Assisi - The Lower Church
THE limits of this little work render it impossible for us to enter into any historical description, however interesting, of the great church of San Francesco at Assisi—far less into a critical examination of the earlier paintings with which it is adorned—and the reader must rest satisfied with the few words of mention already accorded these works in a previous portion of this volume.
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