WHEN Chad set out to patrol the motor routes of New England, he had no particular destination in mind; and it had not occurred to him to provide himself with maps. Many of the roads he had traveled in the past; and some regions he knew particularly well, so he had felt no concern.By BEN AMES WILLIAMS44 min
A NOISY, swaying mob packed the Queen Street terminal, and on the roof of the Pullman ticket offices stood a youth with a huge megaphone. “And who’s done most for the Varsity?” Five hundred and thirty student throats emitted one raucous reply:By LLEWELLYN V. HUGHES32 min
IN ANY other season he might never have been halt so conspicuous, for at the Seaward Inn, under usual conditions, there is a wholesale quantity of attractive young men and therefore no need to pluck a stranger out of his retirement. But conditions had not been as usual: with business depressions and income-taxes, there simply had not been enough men to go ’round.By HOLWORTHY HALL29 min
THEY met in the gloaming. Which, of itself, at once suggests romance and lovers’ trysts— Pyramus and Thisbe, Romeo and Juliet, Mary Jane and the butcher’s boy. The connotation is inescapable. But this, unfortunately, was not that sort of a gloaming.By ROYAL BROWN28 min
IT ALL happened with the coming of Red-Headed McDonald to Anchorville. A schooner had spewed him ashore in Halifax with money to burn and, seamanlike, McDonald held high carnival for a delirious fortnight. When his money was gone he sobered up with the resolution of doing the prodigal son act before the old folks “somewhere up the Bay o’ Fundy.” A friendly skipper of a packet schooner carried the prodigal as far as Anchorville and with a drink and a blessing left him to work his own traverse to the table and the fatted calf.By FREDERICK WILLIAM WALLACE28 min
COLONEL CALEB SMITH, Bridgetown’s leading colored light, arose from his sleepless couch and gazed through his bedroom window at the new-born dawn unfolding her crimson banners in the east. The summer night had been a restless one for the Colonel; gentle slumber had refused to woo him from a depression that had suddenly settled like a black vulture on his very soul.By ARCHIE P. McKISHNIE20 min
HE STOOD before the white-coated doctor, fumbling nervously with his ragged cap. His clothes and face were white with salt spray, as if with a fine coating of ashes. He was muddy, too, and unkempt, and a week’s beard accentuated the emaciation and pallor of his face.By ALEXANDRA PRESTON16 min
The story you want is part of the Maclean’s Archives. To access it, log in here or sign up for your free 30-day trial.
Experience anything and everything Maclean's has ever published — over 3,500 issues and 150,000 articles, images and advertisements — since 1905. Browse on your own, or explore our curated collections and timely recommendations.WATCH THIS VIDEO for highlights of everything the Maclean's Archives has to offer.