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The battle was nearly over. Gallant tin soldiers of the line lay where they had fallen; nearly the whole of a shilling box of light cavalry had paid the penalty of rashly exposing themselves in a compact body to the enemy’s fire; while a rickety little field-gun, with bright red wheels, lay overturned on two infantry men, who, even in death, held their muskets firmly to their shoulders, like the grim old “die-hards” that they were.

All the stories in this volume are told by men who were seen personally, and who, with one or two exceptions—cases of soldiers who had returned to the front—read the typescripts of their narratives, so that accuracy should be secured. The narrators spoke while the impressions of fighting and hardships and things seen were still strong and clear; in several cases full notes had been made or diaries kept, and reference to these records was of great value in preparing the stories. When seeing an informant I specially asked that a true tale should be told, and I believe that no unreliable details were knowingly given.

AH-CHIN-LE, Mandarin, and member of the exalted Calao, to the Illustrious Wo-sung, Mandarin, First class, President of the most Serene, the grand Council, Calao; virtue, health, and the highest place in the Hall of your Sublime Ancestors! Trained from my youth for many years in the school of the Foreigners [Fo-kien], so as to be versed in the languages of the chief Barbarians of the West, and particularly of the English, afterwards perfected in the latter at our port of Shanghai, and sent by your Illustrious command upon a private mission with the Imperial Embassy to the outside Barbarians of the far West to curiously seek into the state of those Peoples, and report upon the same to your Illustrious mind—that being so informed exactly, your Wisdom might, in those matters appertaining to the Western Barbarians, enlighten the Son of Heaven (our Celestial and Imperial Majesty [Bang-ztse] most renowned and exalted) when, in Council, things touching those outer Barbarians should be considered: these, my poor words, in so far as to your Illustrious Wisdom it has been thought proper to make general, are now produced: that the happy subjects of our Central, Flowery Kingdom, may understand more perfectly the condition of those outside Barbarians, respecting whom so very little is known, and may the more cautiously guard the Sacred Institutions [Kam-phfe] of our Celestial Land—wise, peaceful, powerful, and teeming with an industrious and contented people, before the Western Barbarians had so much as the rudiments of learning.

Songs of Innocence and of Experience is an illustrated collection of poems by William Blake.

God save Wales, from Snowdon’s vales
To Severn’s silver strand!
For all the grace of that old race
Still haunts the Celtic land.
And, dear old Ireland, God save you,
And heal the wounds of old,
For every grief you ever knew
May joy come fifty-fold!

The Sophist is a Platonic dialogue from the philosopher’s late period, most likely written in 360 BC. Its main theme is to identify what a sophist is and how a sophist differs from a philosopher and statesman.

The cases are few in which I have been content to reproduce what I have read of the works of acousticians. I have sought to make myself experimentally familiar with the ground occupied; trying, in all cases, to present the illustrations in the form and connection most suitable for educational purposes. -Preface

The indulgence of the public has been already extended to several works which I have submitted to its decision on the subject of Insanity; and the same favourable interpretation is now solicited for the present performance,—which attempts the more difficult investigation of Sound Mind.

In presenting these stories, which are of deep interest and value to South Africans, I hope they may prove of some value to those Americans who have either an interest in animals or who appreciate the folklore of other countries.

Many of these tales have appeared among English collections previous to 1880, others have been translated from the Dutch, and a few have been written from childhood remembrance. Consequently they do not pretend to be original or unique. Care has been taken not to spoil the ethnological value for the sake of form or structure; and in all cases they are as nearly like the original as a translation from one tongue to another will allow. They are all South-African folklore tales and mainly from the Bushmen.

The greater part of what is contained in these pages was published in the New York Age June 25, 1892, in explanation of the editorial which the Memphis whites considered sufficiently infamous to justify the destruction of my paper, the Free Speech.
Since the appearance of that statement, requests have come from all parts of the country that “Exiled” (the name under which it then appeared) be issued in pamphlet form. Some donations were made, but not enough for that purpose. The noble effort of the ladies of New York and Brooklyn Oct. 5 have enabled me to comply with this request and give the world a true, unvarnished account of the causes of lynch law in the South.

No one of his generation lived so completely in and for literature as did Southey. “He is,” said Byron, “the only existing entire man of letters.” With him literature served the needs both of the material life and of the life of the intellect and imagination; it was his means of earning daily bread, and also the means of satisfying his highest ambitions and desires. This, which was true of Southey at five-and-twenty years of age, was equally true at forty, fifty, sixty.

This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work was reproduced from the original artifact, and remains as true to the original work as possible.

Spirits in Bondage was C. S. Lewis’s first published work. Lewis was twenty years old and had just returned from military service in the First World War.

Time was when the foremost aim and ambition of the English housewife was to gain a full knowledge of her own duties and of the duties of her servants. In those days, bread was home-baked, butter home-made, beer home-brewed, gowns home-sewn, to a far greater extent than now.

I went home in 1875 for a few months, after some twelve years’ residence in India. What first suggested the writing of such a book as this, was the amazing ignorance of ordinary Indian life betrayed by people at home. The questions asked me about India, and our daily life there, showed in many cases such an utter want of knowledge, that I thought, surely there is room here for a chatty, familiar, unpretentious book for friends at home, giving an account of our every-day life in India, our labours and amusements, our toils and relaxations, and a few pictures of our ordinary daily surroundings in the far, far East.