Balcony Stories

Well! Every one knows what happened after '59. There is no need to repeat. The history of one is the history of all. But there was this difference--for there is every shade of d...

It is a long voyage from Cincinnati to New Orleans, the rivers doing their best to make it interminable, embroidering themselves _ad libitum_ all over the country. Every five mi...

There is always a more and a most obscure little miracle chapel, and as faith seems ever to lead unhesitatingly to the latter one, there is ever rising out of humility and obscu...

"At sixteen and twenty-one it is hard to realize that one is arranging one's life to last until sixty, seventy, forever," correcting himself as he thought of his friend, the dea...

And Zepherin? A man could better describe his side of that week; for it, too, has mostly to be described from imagination or experience. What is inferred is that what Adorine lo...

When her friends, learning her increasing difficulties, which they did from the best authority (herself), complimented her, as they were forced to do, upon her still handsome ap...

There is much of life passed on the balcony in a country where the summer unrolls in six moon-lengths, and where the nights have to come with a double endowment of vastness and...

It would be tedious to relate, although it was not tedious to hear her relate it, the desperations and hopes of her life then. Hardly a day passed that she did not see, looking...

There is always a little air of mystery about the first communion: not that there is any in reality, but the little ones assume it to render themselves important. The going to e...