Fiction Books

I. CHORDS OF AWAKENING: THE HIGHER CONQUEST [CUTLER]      _The Son of God goes forth to war,           A kingly crown to gain:     His blood-red banner streams afar:           Who follows in His train?      Who best can drink his cup of woe,           Triumphant over pain;     Who patient bears his cross below,           He follows in His... more...

PRELUDE A young idealist, ætat four, was selling stars to put in the sky. She had cut them with her own scissors out of red tissue paper, so that she was able to give a guarantee. "But you'll have to get the ladder out of our bedroom to put 'em up wiv," she told purchasers honestly. The child was a wild dark creature, slim and elfish, with a queer little smile that flashed sudden as... more...

INTRODUCTION One of the first facts which strike the traveller in Palestine is the smallness of a country which has nevertheless occupied so large a space in the history of civilised mankind. It is scarcely larger than an English county, and a considerable portion of it is occupied by rocky mountains and barren defiles where cultivation is impossible. Its population could never have been great, and... more...

CHAPTER I. THE giant clock on the wall in the assembly-room of Madam Truxton's fashionable school had marked the hour for dismission. Groups of restless, anxious pupils stood about the apartment, or were gathered at the windows, watching the rain that had been falling in copious showers since morning. All were eager to go, yet none dared brave the storm. Under the stone archway of the entrance to... more...

AT SUNDOWN TO E. C. S. Poet and friend of poets, if thy glassDetects no flower in winter's tuft of grass,Let this slight token of the debt I oweOutlive for thee December's frozen day,And, like the arbutus budding under snow,Take bloom and fragrance from some morn of MayWhen he who gives it shall have gone the wayWhere faith shall see and reverent trust shall know. THE CHRISTMAS OF 1888. Low... more...

CHAPTER I. Near Moret, in France, where the Seine is formed and flows northward, there lives an old lady named Madame Blanc, who can tell much of the history written here––though it be a history belonging more to American lives than French. She was of the Caron establishment when Judithe first came into the family, and has charge of a home for aged ladies of education and refinement whose means... more...

CHAPTER I There was unwonted bustle in the usually sleepy and dignified New York offices of the Southern and Transcontinental Railroad Company in lower Broadway. The supercilious, well-groomed clerks who, on ordinary days, are far too preoccupied with their own personal affairs to betray the slightest interest in anything not immediately concerning them, now condescended to bestir themselves and,... more...

My father’s land—Born at sea—My school life—Aunt Bretta—Spoilt by over-indulgence—Enticed to sea—The Kite schooner—Contrast of a vessel in port with a vessel at sea—My shipmates—My name fixed in more ways than one—A gale—Repentance comes too late—Suspicious customers—A narrow escape—Naples and its Bay. My father, Eric Wetherholm, was a Shetlander. He was born in the Isle... more...

SEPTEMBER The slow train puffed away into the unadventurous country; and the bees buzzing round the wine-dark dahlias along the platform were once again audible. The last farewell that Guy Hazlewood flung over his shoulder to a parting friend was more casual than it would have been had he not at the same moment been turning to ask the solitary porter how many cases of books awaited his disposition.... more...

CHAPTER I The first time I met her I was a reporter in the embryonic state and she was a girl in short dresses. It was in a garden, surrounded by high red brick walls which were half hidden by clusters of green vines, and at the base of which nestled earth-beds, radiant with roses and poppies and peonies and bushes of lavender lilacs, all spilling their delicate ambrosia on the mild air of passing May.... more...