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Margaret Wade Campbell Deland
Margaret Wade Campbell Deland (1857-1945) was an American author, poet, and social reformer known for her novels and short stories that often explored themes of women's roles and social issues. She achieved significant popularity with her series of stories set in the fictional town of Old Chester, Pennsylvania, and her novel "John Ward, Preacher" (1888) was particularly influential for its critique of religious orthodoxy. Deland was also active in social work, especially supporting unwed mothers, which reflected her broader commitment to social justice.
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The evening before Helen Jeffrey's wedding day, the whole household at the rectory came out into the garden. "The fact is," said Dr. Howe, smiling good-naturedly at his niece, "the importance of this occasion has made everybody so full of suppressed excitement one can't breathe in the house." And indeed a wedding in Ashurst had all the charm of novelty. "Why, bless my...
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ATHALIA HALL stopped to get her breath and look back over the road climbing steeply up from the covered bridge. It was a little after five, and the delicate air of dawn was full of wood and pasture scents—the sweetness of bay and the freshness of dew-drenched leaves. In the valley night still hung like gauze under the trees, but the top of the hill was glittering with sunshine. "Why, we've...
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CHAPTER I "Dr. Lavendar," said William King, "some time when Goliath is doing his 2.40 on a plank road, don't you want to pull him up at that house on the Perryville pike where the Grays used to live, and make a call? An old fellow called Roberts has taken it; he is a—" "Teach your grandmother," said Dr. Lavendar; "he is an Irvingite. He comes from Lower Ripple, down...
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CHAPTER I Dr. Lavendar and Goliath had toiled up the hill to call on old Mr. Benjamin Wright; when they jogged back in the late afternoon it was with the peculiar complacency which follows the doing of a disagreeable duty. Goliath had not liked climbing the hill, for a heavy rain in the morning had turned the clay to stiff mud, and Dr. Lavendar had not liked calling on Benjamin Wright. "But,...
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CHAPTER ITHERE was not a person in Old Chester less tainted by the vulgarity of secretiveness than Miss Lydia Sampson. She had no more reticence than sunshine or wind, or any other elemental thing. How much of this was due to conditions it would be hard to say; certainly there was no "reticence" in her silence as to her neighbors' affairs; she simply didn't know them! Nobody ever...
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CHAPTER I "Climb up in this tree, and play house!" Elizabeth Ferguson commanded. She herself had climbed to the lowest branch of an apple-tree in the Maitland orchard, and sat there, swinging her white-stockinged legs so recklessly that the three children whom she had summoned to her side, backed away for safety. "If you don't," she said, looking down at them, "I'm afraid,...
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Love is as strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame. There is nothing in the world nobler, and lovelier, and more absurd, than a boy's lovemaking. And the joyousness of it!... The boy of nineteen, Maurice Curtis, who on a certain June day lay in the blossoming grass at his wife's feet and looked up into her dark...
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An Encore ACCORDING to Old Chester, to be romantic was just one shade less reprehensible than to put on airs. Captain Alfred Price, in all his seventy years, had never been guilty of putting on airs, but certainly he had something to answer for in the way of romance. However, in the days when we children used to see him pounding up the street from the post-office, reading, as he walked, a newspaper...
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