Fiction Books

CHAPTER I A PROBLEM "Where are the children?" "They can't be far away," replied my wife, looking up from her preparations for supper. "Bobsey was here a moment ago. As soon as my back's turned he's out and away. I haven't seen Merton since he brought his books from school, and I suppose Winnie is upstairs with the Daggetts." "I wish, my dear, you could... more...

CLARA MILITCH I In the spring of 1878 there was living in Moscow, in a small wooden house in Shabolovka, a young man of five-and-twenty, called Yakov Aratov. With him lived his father's sister, an elderly maiden lady, over fifty, Platonida Ivanovna. She took charge of his house, and looked after his household expenditure, a task for which Aratov was utterly unfit. Other relations he had none. A... more...

D'RI AND I I A poet may be a good companion, but, so far as I know, he is ever the worst of fathers. Even as grandfather he is too near, for one poet can lay a streak of poverty over three generations. Doubt not I know whereof I speak, dear reader, for my mother's father was a poet—a French poet, too, whose lines had crossed the Atlantic long before that summer of 1770 when he came to... more...

The chronicles which I am about to present to the reader are not the result of any conscious effort of the imagination. They are, as the title-page indicates, records of dreams, occurring at intervals during the last ten years, and transcribed, pretty nearly in the order of their occurrence, from my Diary. Written down as soon as possible after awaking from the slumber during which they presented... more...

CHAPTER I. THE DREAMER. So many of my dreams have come true, that I sometimes incline to believe that dreams are in reality the only truths. I fancy this dream, at any rate, will be fulfilled. A hard gale rushed over a torn sea, and the drift was swept so that the moon was obscured with every fresh gust. High overhead a clear, steely sky was flecked here and there with fleecy white, and, ever and... more...

STRIKE HANDS, YOUNG MEN!    Strike hands, young men!We know not whenDeath or disaster comes,Mightier than battle-drumsTo summon us away.Death bids us say farewellTo all we love, nor stayFor tears;—and who can tellHow soon misfortune's handMay smite us where we stand,Dragging us down, aloof,Under the swift world's hoof?    Strike hands for faith, and powerTo gladden the passing hour;To... more...

INTRODUCTORY. With my Aunt Tabithy. "Pshaw!" said my Aunt Tabithy, "have you not done with dreaming?" My Aunt Tabithy, though an excellent and most notable person, loves occasionally a quiet bit of satire. And when I told her that I was sharpening my pen for a new story of those dreamy fancies and half-experiences which lie grouped along the journeying hours of my solitary life, she... more...

A DREAM OF EMPIRE. I. AN ECCENTRIC VISITOR. It was the first of May, and the sun had passed the noon line in a bright sky, causing the shadow of Peter Taylor to fall east of north and infusing his substance with the delightful languor called Spring Fever. Leaning upon an idle spade, Peter watched the lazy motions of a negro slave whom he had directed to trim a level lawn ornamented with flowerbeds. The... more...

COOPERATIVE PRINCIPLES The principles established by the Rochdale Pioneers in England in 1844 and observed consistently by successful societies since that time are as follows: 1. Earnings of capital stock limited to legal or current rate of interest. 2. Surplus earnings to be returned to members in proportion to patronage. 3. One vote for each member regardless of amount of stock owned. No proxy voting... more...

CHAPTER I During the severe winter of 1860 the river Oise was frozen over and the plains of Lower Picardy were covered with deep snow. On Christmas Day, especially, a heavy squall from the north-east had almost buried the little city of Beaumont. The snow, which began to fall early in the morning, increased towards evening and accumulated during the night; in the upper town, in the Rue des Orfevres, at... more...