Fiction Books

ELLEN OF VILLENSKOV. There lies a wold in Vester Haf,   There builds a boor his hold;And thither he carries hawk and hound,   He’ll stay through winter’s cold. He takes with him both hound and cock,   He means there long to stay;The wild deer in the wood that are   For his arrival pay. He hews the oak and poplar tall,   He fells the good beech tree;Then fill’d was the laidly Trold with... more...

CHAPTER I IN THE BEGINNING Had I a plantation of this Isle, my lord— * * * * * I' the Commonwealth I would by contrariesExecute all things; for no kind of trafficWould I admit . . . riches, povertyAnd use of service, none. SHAKESPEARE How quaint seems the demand for details of life on this Isle of Scent and Silence! Lolling in shade and quietude, was I guilty of indiscretion when I babbled of my... more...

NORTH AMERICA, SIBERIA, AND RUSSIA. The circumnavigation of the world is now a matter of ordinary occurrence to our bold mariners: and after a few years it will be a sort of summer excursion to our steamers. We shall have the requisitions of the Travellers' Club more stringent as the sphere of action grows wider; and no man will be eligible who has not paid a visit to Pekin, or sunned himself in... more...

I A black bang was, but not ultimately, the most notable feature of her uncommon personality—straight and severe and dense across her clear pale brow and eyes. Her eyes were the last thing to remember and wonder about; in shade blue, they had a velvet richness, a poignant intensity of lovely color, that surprised the heart. Aside from that she was slim, perhaps ten years old, and graver than gay. Her... more...

"MARTIN OF NITENDI" Half-way up the side of the mountain which overlooked the waters of the little land-locked harbour there was a space clear of timber. Huge, jagged rocks, whose surfaces were covered with creepers and grey moss, protruded from the soil, and on the highest of these a man was lying at full length, looking at the gunboat anchored half a mile away. He was clothed in a girdle of... more...

JANUARY.—THE BIRTH OF THE YEAR. Some poet has observed, that if any man would write down what has really happened to him in this mortal life, he would be sure to make a good book, though he never had met with a single adventure from his birth to his burial. How much more, then, must I, who HAVE had adventures, most singular, pathetic, and unparalleled, be able to compile an instructive and... more...

A GOOD SAMARITAN The little District Telegraph boy, with a dirty face, stood at the edge of the desk, and, rubbing his sleeve across his cheek, made it unnecessarily dirtier. "Answer, sir?" "No—yes—wait a minute." Reed tore the yellow envelope and spread the telegram. It read: "Do I meet you at your office or at Martin's and what time?" "The devil!" Reed... more...

“ hope your passenger hasn’t missed his train,” observed the ferryman to Mr. Jimmy Fallows, who sat on the river bank with the painter of his rickety little naphtha launch held loosely in his hand. “Mr. Opp?” said Jimmy. “I bet he did. If there is one person in the world that’s got a talent for missing things, it’s Mr. Opp. I never seen him that he hadn’t just missed gettin’ a... more...

YOUTH IN THE CITY'Val più aver amici in piazzaChe denari nella cassa.' Proverb. Royalty was arriving in the harbour in a steam-yacht. It had, that is, already arrived in the harbour; it was now disembarking on the pier. It was an interesting event. An edified crowd watched it; representatives of the Press jotted down their impressions; some took photographs. A few drew pictures instead. The... more...

I.--The Roving Life It was, as usual, a brilliant morning, the dewy blades of the rye-grass which covered the plain sparkled brightly in the beams of the sun, which had probably been about two hours above the horizon. Near the mouth of the dingle--Mumpers' Dingle, near Wittenhall, Staffordshire--where my friend Isopel Berners and I, the travelling tinker, were encamped side by side, a rather... more...