Issue

It has been called the Redwood Empire, and it stretched along Northern California's fog-shrouded coast, but its reign is imperiled.

A Negro cavalry regiment was John J. Pershing’s “home” in the service. From it came his nickname, and he never lost his affection for—or failed to champion—the valorous colored troopers he led.

Faced with war, famine, and bloody revolution, a political wheel horse turned into a first-class ambassador.

To a culinary wilderness Fred Harvey brought civilized cooking—and pretty girls to serve it.

A choice between life and honor is a fearful one for any man. Here is the unforgettable story of how it was made by a twenty-one-year-old Confederate private.

The 1910 race for the mayoralty of New York looked like a tough one.

The idea goes back to the very beginnings of our national history. Then as now, it was built upon human relationships, and these—as Mr. Jefferson found to his sorrow—make a fragile foundation.

The horrors of Connecticut's maximum-security dungeon at Simsbury were notorious even abroad. Yet time and again its inmates proved that, with a clever escape plan, stone walls do not a prison make.

Surrounded, starving, far from help, Major Forsyth and his gallant little band of scouts prepared to face wave after wave of Indians.

Advertising, that magic lantern of the American psyche, found a new way to sell the exploding national market in the Gilded Age—and in full color.