Discusses the use of orphan trains to place orphaned or abandoned children in homes in nineteenth-century Missouri.

This book is a study of political exile and transnational activism in the late-Victorian period. It explores the history of about 500 French-speaking anarchists who lived in exile in London between 1880 and 1914, with a close focus on the 1890s, when their presence peaked. These individuals sought to escape intense repression in France, at a time when anarchist-inspired terrorism swept over the Western world. Until the 1905 Aliens Act, Britain was the exception in maintaining a liberal approach to the containment of anarchism and terrorism; it was therefore the choice destination of international exiled anarchists, just as it had been for previous generations of revolutionary exiles throughout the nineteenth century. These French groups in London played a strategic role in the reinvention of anarchism at a time of crisis, but also triggered intense moral panic in France, Britain and beyond. This study retraces the lives of these largely unknown individuals - how they struggled to get by in the great late-Victorian metropolis, their social and political interactions among themselves, with other exiled groups and their host society. The myths surrounding their rumoured terrorist activities are examined, as well as the constant overt and covert surveillance which French and British intelligence services kept over them. The debates surrounding the controversial asylum granted to international anarchists, and especially the French, are presented, showing their role in the redefinition of British liberalism. The political legacy of these 'London years' is also analysed, since exile contributed to the formation of small but efficient transnational networks, which were pivotal to the development and international dissemination of syndicalism and, less successfully, to anti-war propaganda in the run up to 1914.

Memory, Narrative and the Great War provides a detailed examination of the varied and complex war writings of a relatively marginal figure, Patrick MacGill, within a general framework of our current pre-occupation with blood, mud and suffering. In particular, it seeks to explain how his interpretation of war shifted from the heroic wartime autobiographical trilogy, with its emphasis on 'the romance of the rifleman' to the pessimistic and guilt-ridden interpretations in his post-war novel, Fear!, and play, Suspense. Through an exploration of the way in which war-time experiences were remembered (and re-remembered) and retold in strikingly different narratives, and using insights from cognitive psychology, it is argued that there is no contradiction between these two seemingly opposing views. Instead it is argued that, given the present orientation and problem-solving nature of both memory and narrative, the different interpretations are both 'true' in the sense that they throw light on the ongoing way in which MacGill came to terms with his experiences of war. This in turn has implications for broader interpretations of the Great War, which has increasingly be seen in terms of futile suffering, not least because of the eloquent testimony of ex-Great War soldiers, reflecting on their experiences many years after the event. Without suggesting that such testimony is invalid, it is argued that this is one view but not the only view of the war. Rather wartime memory and narrative is more akin to an ever-changing kaleidoscope, in which pieces of memory take on different (but equally valid) shapes as they are shaken with the passing of time.