THE SECOND LIFE.
I am a hard man. I wish you to remember that when I tell you my story. Hard, selfish, money-making. My life has been like this December day—bleak and gray, with a bit of red sunshine warming it up at the…
"Life in the Iron-Mills."
"Is this the end?O Life, as futile, then, as frail!What hope of answer or redress?"
A CLOUDY day: do you know what that is in a town of iron-works? The sky sank down before dawn, muddy, flat, immovable. The air is thick,…
ONE cold evening in September, nearly seventy years ago, two men were walking up one of the four hilly streets of Wheeling.
Now a large manufacturing centre, Wheeling was then only a quiet village in the…
“THERE’S a man, now, that has been famous in his time,” said Davidge as we passed the mill, glancing in at the sunny gap in the side of the building.
I paused incredulously: Phil’s lion so often turned out to be Snug the…