Fiction Books

PREFACE THE immense popularity which Bergson's philosophy enjoys is sometimes cast up against him, by those who do not agree with him, as a reproach. It has been suggested that Berg-son's writings are welcomed simply because they offer a theoretical justification for a tendency which is natural in all of us but against which philosophy has always fought, the tendency to throw reason overboard... more...

THE RIDE TO THE LADY "Now since mine even is come at last,—For I have been the sport of steel,And hot life ebbeth from me fast,And I in saddle roll and reel,—Come bind me, bind me on my steed!Of fingering leech I have no need!"The chaplain clasped his mailed knee."Nor need I more thy whine and thee!No time is left my sins to tell;But look ye bind me, bind me well!"They bound him... more...

No description available

GOOD INTENTIONS "Jealousy; that's wot it is," said the night-watchman, trying to sneer— "pure jealousy." He had left his broom for a hurried half-pint at the "Bull's Head"—left it leaning in a negligent attitude against the warehouse-wall; now, lashed to the top of the crane at the jetty end, it pointed its soiled bristles towards the evening sky and defied... more...

THE 'BLUE PETER' Ding ... dong.... Ding ... dong. The university bells toll out in strength of tone that tells of south-west winds and misty weather. On the street below my window familiar city noises, unheeded by day, strike tellingly on the ear—hoof-strokes and rattle of wheels, tramp of feet on the stone flags, a snatch of song from a late reveller, then silence, broken in a little by... more...

Braanol stirred, throbbed sluggishly once, then lay quiescent as his mental self surged up from the deeps of non-entity. And gradually he came to know that someone had entered the room. His room, far beneath the city. Now he could feel the vibra-currents through the liquids of the huge tanks where he had lain somnolent for untold aeons. It was pleasant, caressing. For a moment he floated there,... more...

Even now I cannot realize that he is dead, and often in the city streets—on Fifth Avenue in particular—I find myself glancing ahead for a glimpse of the tall, boyish, familiar figure—experience once again a flash of the old happy expectancy. I have lived in many lands, and have known men. I never knew a finer man than Graham Phillips. His were the clearest, bluest, most honest eyes I ever... more...

INTRODUCTION. To the Labouring Classes of this Kingdom. 1. Throughout this little work, I shall number the Paragraphs, in order to be able, at some stages of the work, to refer, with the more facility, to parts that have gone before. The last Number will contain an Index, by the means of which the several matters may be turned to without loss of time; for, when economy is the subject, time is a thing... more...

CHAPTER I "I don't know what to say, my dear." "Why, surely, James, you are not thinking for a moment of letting him go?" "Well, I don't know. Yes, I am certainly thinking of it, though I haven't at all made up my mind. There are advantages and disadvantages." "Oh, but it is such a long way, and to live among those French people, who have been doing such... more...

"OUR STEWARD OF HOUSEHOLD." At somewhat more than halfway distance between Weymouth on the skirt of the Atlantic, and the good old city of Bristow by the Severn sea, on the thin iron line that crosses the wide end of the western peninsula between those places,—and which in the early days of railway enterprise was cleverly, but of course futilely, stretched as a boom, designed to... more...