The morning was as dark and cold as city snow could make it--a
dingy whirl at the window; a read more

The morning was as dark and cold as city snow could make it--a
dingy whirl at the window; a smoky gust through the fire-place; a
shadow black as a bear's cave under the table. Nothing in all
the cavernous room, loomed really warm or familiar except a glass
of stale water, and a vapid, half-eaten grape-fruit.

Early one morning I, Vadim Maslennikov, set off for school (I was
going on seventeen at the time) having read more

Early one morning I, Vadim Maslennikov, set off for school (I was
going on seventeen at the time) having forgotten the envelope
with the first-semester fees Mother had left me in the dining
room the day before.

The primroses were over.

The primroses were over.

Cricket is a game that owes much of its unique appeal to the fact
that it should be played read more

Cricket is a game that owes much of its unique appeal to the fact
that it should be played not only within its Laws but also within
the Spirit of the Game.

"Please, sir, is this Plumfield?" asked a ragged boy of the man
who opened the great gate at which read more

"Please, sir, is this Plumfield?" asked a ragged boy of the man
who opened the great gate at which the omnibus left him.

In the twentieth year of the reign of the right high and puissant
King Henry the Eighth, namely, in read more

In the twentieth year of the reign of the right high and puissant
King Henry the Eighth, namely, in 1529, on the twenty-first of
April, and on one of the loveliest evenings that ever fell on the
loveliest district in England, a fair youth, having somewhat the
appearance of a page, was leaning over the terrace-wall on the
north side of Windsor Castle, and gazing at the magnificent scene
before him.

It was a cold winter Sunday afternoon.

It was a cold winter Sunday afternoon.

The new church of St. John's, on Fifth Avenue, was thronged the
morning of the last Sunday of October, read more

The new church of St. John's, on Fifth Avenue, was thronged the
morning of the last Sunday of October, in the year 1880. Sitting
in the gallery, beneath the unfinished frescoes, and looking down
the nave, one caught an effect of autumn gardens, a suggestion of
chrysanthemums and geraniums, or of October woods, dashed with
scarlet oaks and yellow maples.

To stretch his legs between consultations, Maclean escorted his
last patient to Baker Street station.

To stretch his legs between consultations, Maclean escorted his
last patient to Baker Street station.