The Loves of Alonzo Fitz Clarence and Rosannah Ethelton
On the Decay of the Art of Lying
About Magnanimous-Incident Literature
The Grateful Poodle
The Benevolent Author
The Grateful Husband
Punch, Brothers, Punch
The Great Revolution in Pitcairn
The Canvasser's Tale
An Encounter with an Interviewer
Legend of Sagenfeld, in Germany
Speech on the Babies
Speech on the Weather
Concerning the American Language
e are the black clouds and the whirling snow and the raging winds come again! But she said good-by. She didn't say good morning, she said good-by! . . . The clock was right, after all. What a lightning-winged two hours it was!"
He sat down, and gazed dreamily into his fire for a while, then heaved a sigh and said:
"How wonderful it is! Two little hours ago I was a free man, and now my heart's in San Francisco!"
About that time Rosannah Ethelton, propped in the window-seat of her bedchamber, book in hand, was gazing vacantly out over the rainy seas that washed the Golden Gate, and whispering to herself, "How different he is from poor Burley, with his empty head and his single little antic talent of mimicry!"
Four weeks later Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley was entertaining a gay luncheon company, in a sumptuous drawing-room on Telegraph Hill, with some capital imitations of the voices and gestures of certain popular actors and San Franciscan literary people and Bonanza grandees. He was ele