Marcosson Isaac Frederick
Isaac Frederick Marcosson (1877-1961) was an American editor, born at Louisville, Kentucky, and educated in the schools of Louisville. In 1903, he became associate editor of The World's Work, and in 1907, he became a member of and financial editor of The Saturday Evening Post. From 1910 to 1913, he was editor of Munsey's Magazine.
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the rebirth of russia
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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: IllThe Day of Decision AS if by magic, Petrograd bloomed like a crimson rose on Monday morning. No one knew how or why, but on all sides flaunted the red flag of Revolution; "The Marseillaise" was on every tongue. The apathy and indecision of Sunday seemed to have vanished with the night. The issue was at hand, the stage was set, and, almost before the people realised it, they were in the midst of delirious and dramatic doings. Long before nine o'clock, the streets were black with crowds. Petrograd was all curiosity and eagerness to know what would happen. There were troops everywhere, and it was not long before these men in grey revealed the result of the great deci- .sion which the stormy discussions of the night before had evoked. In other outbreaks, the so-called household troops, together with Cossacks, always stood their ground, bulwark of the imperialhope, slave of the royal command. But things were different now. The die had been cast and another one of the miracles was about to happen. The Preobrajenskys, finest of the Guards Regiments, and long the chief pride and protection of the Russian monarchy, revolted when ordered to fire on the mob, shot some of its officers, and then marched down the street singing and cheering. The Volynskysalso of the Guardssent to coerce mutineers, joined them, and were soon followed by the Pavlovskys. By noon, nearly twenty thousand troops, the flower of the army, had ranged themselves on the side of the multitude. At first they wandered about like schoolboys broken out of school. They did not loot; there was no drunkenness; they only shouted, cheered, argued. Crowds of workmen joined them, and the disorganised and officerless mass stormed and captured the Arsenal. An immense store of arms and ammunition fell into the ha...
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s o s americas miracle in france
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4/5
Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: IllArmy Tracks and Traffic BILL BROWN, who once drove a Santa Fe "Mogul" across the Kansas Prairies, hitched up his grimy khaki overalls and looked out of the cab of his monster consolidation locomotive marked "U. S. A.," which had left its Philadelphia maker less than a month before and which now panted alongside a quay at St. Nazaire in France. A scene of incessant action unfolded before him. In the lock basin was a forest of funnels and masts of American ships whose gay camouflage gleamed in the sunlight. From one of them a ninety-ton naval gun swung ashore as easily as a bale of hay; from another, five-ton motor trucks were lowered as lightly. Cranes creaked; the plantation melodies of the Sunny South, sung by negro stevedores, mingled with the song of Chinese coolies who formed a continuous line of cargo carriers from deck to dock. In the yards nearby dozens of huge American engines, hauling endless chains of American cars, loaded with American supplies, snorted off to American depots, often on American tracks sentinelled by American poles down which flashed American messages sent and received by American men and women. Likewise for miles up and down the winding inlandwaterways American tugs, pulling American boats, chugged along bearing their burden of American freight and responsibility. Day and night and with an effort as ceaseless as the tide of tonnage that beats on those stricken shores of France, is the movement of American freight and transport over there. What was happening in the port that made Bill Brown blink his eye and breathe a little faster was happening in more than half a dozen ports along that same French coast with varying degrees of variety and volume but always with the same unending action. Again we are confronted by a miracle of expansion. In...
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the rebirth of russia
Series:
Unknown
Year:
Unknown
Raiting:
5/5
Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: IllThe Day of Decision AS if by magic, Petrograd bloomed like a crimson rose on Monday morning. No one knew how or why, but on all sides flaunted the red flag of Revolution; "The Marseillaise" was on every tongue. The apathy and indecision of Sunday seemed to have vanished with the night. The issue was at hand, the stage was set, and, almost before the people realised it, they were in the midst of delirious and dramatic doings. Long before nine o'clock, the streets were black with crowds. Petrograd was all curiosity and eagerness to know what would happen. There were troops everywhere, and it was not long before these men in grey revealed the result of the great deci- .sion which the stormy discussions of the night before had evoked. In other outbreaks, the so-called household troops, together with Cossacks, always stood their ground, bulwark of the imperialhope, slave of the royal command. But things were different now. The die had been cast and another one of the miracles was about to happen. The Preobrajenskys, finest of the Guards Regiments, and long the chief pride and protection of the Russian monarchy, revolted when ordered to fire on the mob, shot some of its officers, and then marched down the street singing and cheering. The Volynskysalso of the Guardssent to coerce mutineers, joined them, and were soon followed by the Pavlovskys. By noon, nearly twenty thousand troops, the flower of the army, had ranged themselves on the side of the multitude. At first they wandered about like schoolboys broken out of school. They did not loot; there was no drunkenness; they only shouted, cheered, argued. Crowds of workmen joined them, and the disorganised and officerless mass stormed and captured the Arsenal. An immense store of arms and ammunition fell into the ha...
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s o s americas miracle in france
Series:
Unknown
Year:
Unknown
Raiting:
4/5
Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: IllArmy Tracks and Traffic BILL BROWN, who once drove a Santa Fe "Mogul" across the Kansas Prairies, hitched up his grimy khaki overalls and looked out of the cab of his monster consolidation locomotive marked "U. S. A.," which had left its Philadelphia maker less than a month before and which now panted alongside a quay at St. Nazaire in France. A scene of incessant action unfolded before him. In the lock basin was a forest of funnels and masts of American ships whose gay camouflage gleamed in the sunlight. From one of them a ninety-ton naval gun swung ashore as easily as a bale of hay; from another, five-ton motor trucks were lowered as lightly. Cranes creaked; the plantation melodies of the Sunny South, sung by negro stevedores, mingled with the song of Chinese coolies who formed a continuous line of cargo carriers from deck to dock. In the yards nearby dozens of huge American engines, hauling endless chains of American cars, loaded with American supplies, snorted off to American depots, often on American tracks sentinelled by American poles down which flashed American messages sent and received by American men and women. Likewise for miles up and down the winding inlandwaterways American tugs, pulling American boats, chugged along bearing their burden of American freight and responsibility. Day and night and with an effort as ceaseless as the tide of tonnage that beats on those stricken shores of France, is the movement of American freight and transport over there. What was happening in the port that made Bill Brown blink his eye and breathe a little faster was happening in more than half a dozen ports along that same French coast with varying degrees of variety and volume but always with the same unending action. Again we are confronted by a miracle of expansion. In...
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charles frohman manager and man
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3/5
Originally published in 1916. This volume from the Cornell University Library's print collections was scanned on an APT BookScan and converted to JPG 2000 format by Kirtas Technologies. All titles scanned cover to cover and pages may include marks notations and other marginalia present in the original volume.
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The War After the War
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3.5/5
Originally published in 1917. This volume from the Cornell University Library's print collections was scanned on an APT BookScan and converted to JPG 2000 format by Kirtas Technologies. All titles scanned cover to cover and pages may include marks notations and other marginalia present in the original volume.
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An African Adventure
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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Empire and he knows Smuts and South Africa. I asked him to indicate what in his opinion would be the next great milepost of Smuts' progress. He replied: 'The destiny of Smuts is interwoven with the destiny of the whole British Empire. The Great War bound the Colonies together with bonds of blood. Out of this common peril and sacrifice has been knit a closer Imperial kinship. During the war we had an Imperial War Cabinet composed of overseas Premiers, which sat in London. Its logical successor will be a United British Empire, federated in policy but not in administration. Smuts will be the Prime Minister of these United States of Great Britian." It is the high goal of a high career. S /ff textit{Congo Basoko -K-tanleyv Ponthiervme E L G textit{II A mouth IlKindu inshasaÂ¥ Kongo] Jshikapa TANGANYIKA ANGO L A THE HEAVY LINE INDICATES MR. MARCOaSOVS ROUTE IN AFRICA chapter{Section 4CHAPTER II â "CAPE-TO-CAIRO" WHEN you take the train for the North at Capetown you start on the first lap of what is in many respects the most picturesque journey n the world. Other railways tunnel mighty mountains, cross seething rivers, traverse scorching deserts, and invade the clouds, but none has so romantic an interest or is bound up with such adventure and imagination as this. The reason is that at Capetown begins the southern end of the famous seven-thousand- mile Cape-to-Cairo Route, one of the greatest dreams of England's prince of practical dreamers, Cecil Rhodes. Today, after thirty years of conflict with grudging Governments, the project is practically an accomplished fact. Woven into its fabric is the story of a German conspiracy that was as definite a cause of the Great War as the Balkan mess or any other phase of Teutonic international meddling. Along ...
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