Andiron Tales: Bangs Classic Collection

· Bangs Classic Collection āŠŠāŦāŠļāŦāŠĪāŠ• 16 · č°·æœˆįĪū
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1 āŠ°āŠŋāŠĩāŦāŠŊāŦ‚
āŠ‡-āŠŠāŦāŠļāŦāŠĪāŠ•
82
āŠŠāŦ‡āŠœ
āŠ°āŦ‡āŠŸāŠŋāŠ‚āŠ— āŠ…āŠĻāŦ‡ āŠ°āŠŋāŠĩāŦāŠŊāŦ‚ āŠšāŠ•āŠūāŠļāŦ‡āŠēāŠū āŠĻāŠĨāŦ€Â āŠĩāŠ§āŦ āŠœāŠūāŠĢāŦ‹

āŠ† āŠ‡-āŠŠāŦāŠļāŦāŠĪāŠ• āŠĩāŠŋāŠķāŦ‡

Tom and the Andirons

It was perfectly natural in one respect, anyhow. There was really no reason in the world why Tom should not lie upon the great bear-skin rug in front of the library fire those cold winter nights if he wanted to, nor need anyone be surprised that he should want to. It was indeed a most delightful place to lie in. The bear-skin was soft and in every way comfortable and comforting. The fireplace itself was one of those huge hospitable affairs that might pass in some apartment houses in our narrow cooped-up city streets for a butler's pantry or small reception room—in fact in the summer time Tom used to sit in the fireplace and pretend he was in his office transacting business with such of his sister's dolls as could be induced to visit him there; giving orders to imaginary clerks and bookkeepers and keeping an equally fanciful office boy continually on the run. And then apart from the rug and the fireplace it was a beautiful room in which they were. Tom's father was very fond of books, and, although he was a great many years older than Tom, he had not forgotten how to enjoy the very same kind of books that Tom liked. He was not ashamed to have one little niche of his library filled with the stories which had delighted him in his boyhood days, and which still continued to please him, and, of course, this lent an additional charm to the library in Tom's eyes. It held his heroes, and on some of those drowsy nights when the only sounds to break the stillness of the room were the scratching of his father's pen, the soft humming of some little tune by his mother sitting and sewing by the evening lamp, and the fierce crackling of the burning logs, Tom could almost see these heroes stepping down from the shelves and like so many phantoms flitting in and about the room. In fact, upon one occasion, Tom is convinced he did see these very people having a dance upon the great tiled hearth—but of that you shall hear later...

 

āŠ°āŦ‡āŠŸāŠŋāŠ‚āŠ— āŠ…āŠĻāŦ‡ āŠ°āŠŋāŠĩāŦāŠŊāŦ‚

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āŠēāŦ‡āŠ–āŠ• āŠĩāŠŋāŠķāŦ‡

 He was born in Yonkers, New York. His father Francis Nehemiah Bangs was a lawyer in New York City, as was his brother, Francis S. Bangs.

He went to Columbia University from 1880 to 1883 where he became editor of Columbia's literary magazine and contributed short anonymous pieces to humor magazines. After graduation in 1883, Bangs entered Columbia Law School but left in 1884 to become Associate Editor of Life under Edward S. Martin. Bangs contributed many articles and poems to the magazine between 1884 and 1888. During this period, Bangs published his first books.

In 1888 Bangs left Life to work at Harper's Magazine, Harper's Bazaar and Harper's Young People. From 1889 to 1900 he held the title of Editor of the Departments of Humor for all three Harper's magazines and from 1899 to 1901 served as active editor of Harper's Weekly. Bangs also served for a short time (January–June 1889) as the first editor of Munsey's Magazine and became editor of the American edition of the Harper-owned Literature from January to November 1899.

He left Harper & Brothers in 1901 and became editor of the New Metropolitan magazine in 1903. In 1904 he was appointed editor of Puck, perhaps the foremost American humor magazine of its day. In this period, he revived his earlier interest in drama. In 1906 he switched his focus to the lecture circuit.

During the period between 1901 & 1906, Mr. Bangs was known to have spent at least parts of his summers at the Profile House in Franconia, New Hampshire. He owned one of the 20 connected cottages adjacent to the large hotel, which he sold to Cornelius Newton Bliss in August of 1906. As a satirical writer, he was also known in the "Profile Cottage" circles as a jokester and prankster and was frequently the jovial topic of hotel guests and cottage owners alike.

Agnes Hyde Bangs, his wife with whom he had three sons, died in 1903. Bangs then married Mary Gray. In 1907 they moved from Yonkers to Ogunquit, Maine. John Kendrick Bangs died from stomach cancer in 1922 at age fifty-nine, in Atlantic City, New Jersey.

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āŠļāŦ€āŠ°āŠŋāŠ āŠšāŠūāŠēāŦ āŠ°āŠūāŠ–āŦ‹

John Kendrick Bangs āŠĶāŦāŠĩāŠūāŠ°āŠū āŠĩāŠ§āŦ

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