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The era of peace which seemed to be well-begun in 1906 was naturally marked by an extraordinary commercial and financial activity; an amount of world-wide speculations never equalled in intensity, even in the mad times of the South Sea Bubble, or when Hudson, the Railway King, flourished. The countless millions piled up in English banks earning a 2? per cent. interest were lavishly withdrawn, new mines had been started, everybody was going to be rich. On the face of it people had good grounds for their sanguine expectations. The Rand with its forty square miles of of rich gold-bearing reefs containing an untold number of immense fortunes - the richest region on earth - was properly administe...
The Master Criminal by Fred Merrick White
The story of London fog that turned daylight into darkness for four days. The eather forecast for London and the Channel was "light airs, fine generally, milder." Further down the fascinating column Hackness read that "the conditions over Europe generally favoured a continuance of the large anti-cyclonic area, the barometer steadily rising over Western Europe, sea smooth, readings being unusually high for this time of the year." Martin Hackness, B.Sc., London, thoughtfully read all this and more. The study of the meteorological reports was part of his religion almost. In the laboratory at the back of his sitting-room were all kinds of weird-looking instruments for measuring sunshine and wind pressure, the weight of atmosphere and the like. Hackness trusted before long to be able to foretell a London fog with absolute accuracy, which, when you come to think of it, would be an exceedingly useful matter."
Fred Merrick White was a British author of many novel and short stories under the name of "Fred m. white"
Fred M. White published this fictional story in 1903 about London in the grip of a severe 4-day arctic snow-storm, showing the hardships and consequences for which the city was unprepared, including price gouging and angry mobs.Actually, the "The history of British winters" page at www.netweather.tv shows many severe winters, including this dramatic entry: "25th December 1836, roads impassable, snow depths reached a staggering 5-15 feet in many places, and most astonishingly, drifts of 20-50 feet!"That entry doesn't say where in Great Britain those snowfalls occurred, but this one mentions London: "1885-1886: Snow fell in October, November, December, January, February, March, April and May! London recorded 1ft of snow in 7 hours in early January." Generally in the record, a snowfall of 6 to 12 inches in London would be considered unusually severe. Compare that with the snowfall described in this story.First published in Pearson's Magazine, January 1903 with illustrations by Warwick Goble.
Six spy-stories published in the US edition of Pearson's Magazine, Jul-Dec 1900. This series features Newton Moore, the top agent of a fictitious branch of the British War Office called "The Secret Service Fund." All of the stories in this series were illustrated by Victor Venner.
Nothing is the same after Countess Lalage moves in. She is a lovely woman with an enviable reputation and standing, but there is a strange mystery surrounding her. There is also a shadow of a great crime on her house. While it may sound hysterical, those who knew her found it impossible to ignore.
The Romance of the Secret Service Fund Fred Merrick White Six spy-stories published in the US edition of Pearson's Magazine, Jul-Dec 1900. This series features Newton Moore, the top agent of a fictitious branch of the British War Office called "The Secret Service Fund." All of the stories in this series were illustrated by Victor Venner.
Another in the "Doom of London" series, in which the author sounds a clarion call of potential disasters that may fall upon the great city. Here he relates a tale of air pollution. Excerpt: They crawled along through the black suffocating darkness, feeble, languid, and sweating at every pore. There was a murky closeness in the vitiated atmosphere that seemed to take all the strength and energy away. At any other time the walk to Clarence Terrace would have been a pleasure, now it was a penance. They found their objective after a deal of patience and trouble. Hackness yelled in the doorway. There was a sound of footsteps and Cynthia Grimfern spoke. "Ah, what a relief it is to know that you are all right," she said. "I pictured all sorts of horrors happening to you. Will this never end, Martin?" She cried softly in her distress.
THERE is no more distinguished family in England than the Blantyres of Glenallan. Its very name is a sufficient passport into the best society. Nevertheless, those who know shrug their shoulders, glance significantly at one another, and leave the rest to discreet silence. Be that as it may, however, the Blantyres are still important people in their own neighbourhood. Their estates are as extensive as ever, and their revenues have suffered no diminution, even in these democratic days, when few old families can boast of the power and influence they wielded a hundred years ago...