Fiction Books

CHAPTER I Hyacinth 'There's only one thing I must really implore you, Edith,' said Bruce anxiously. 'Don't make me late at the office!' 'Certainly not, Bruce,' answered Edith sedately. She was seated opposite her husband at breakfast in a very new, very small, very white flat in Knightsbridge—exactly like thousands of other new, small, white flats. She was... more...

PREFACE. I delayed these pages some weeks in order to give Mr. Romanes an opportunity of explaining his statement that Canon Kingsley wrote about instinct and inherited memory in Nature, Jan. 18, 1867.   I wrote to the Athenæum (Jan. 26, 1884) and pointed out that Nature did not begin to appear till nearly three years after the date given by Mr. Romanes, and that there was nothing from Canon Kingsley... more...

CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION--THE MEANING OF LITERATUREHold the hye wey, and lat thy gost thee lede.            Chaucer'sTruth     On, on, you noblest English, ...    Follow your spirit.                Shakespeare'sHenry V The Shell and the Book. A child and a man were one day walking on the seashore when the child found a little shell and held it to his ear.... more...

The fruit-eating bats of the genus Sturnira are represented on the North American mainland by two species, S. lilium and S. ludovici. The former, in most areas the smaller of the two, is widely distributed in México and Central America and is common in many places. On the other hand, S. ludovici, described by Anthony (1924:8) from near Gualea, Ecuador, generally has been regarded as rare; insofar as... more...

CHAPTER IMAKING AND PLANTING A ROSE GARDENHappy is the rosarian who is free to choose the spot in which to make his rose garden—to choose the ideal position, with ideal soil, in an ideal climate. Such fortuitous combinations are possible. But though they do not fall to the lot of one rose-lover in a hundred, it is still easy to find a bit of ground in which roses will flourish; for, with proper care,... more...

THE SON’S VETO CHAPTER I To the eyes of a man viewing it from behind, the nut-brown hair was a wonder and a mystery.  Under the black beaver hat, surmounted by its tuft of black feathers, the long locks, braided and twisted and coiled like the rushes of a basket, composed a rare, if somewhat barbaric, example of ingenious art.  One could understand such weavings and coilings being wrought to last... more...

The joy of the people on the return of Louis XVIII., in 1814, was unbounded. It was in the spring, and the hedges, gardens, and orchards were in full bloom. The people had for years suffered so much misery, and had so many times feared being carried off by the conscription never to return, they were so weary of battles, of the captured cannon, of all the glory and the Te Deums, that they wished for... more...

THE HERITAGE OF DEDLOW MARSH. The sun was going down on the Dedlow Marshes. The tide was following it fast as if to meet the reddening lines of sky and water in the west, leaving the foreground to grow blacker and blacker every moment, and to bring out in startling contrast the few half-filled and half-lit pools left behind and forgotten. The strong breath of the Pacific fanning their surfaces at times... more...

I Part of a densely grown garden; on the right benches; at the back a rail fence, separating the garden from a field. SCENE I Enter NÁDYA and LÍZA NÁDYA. No, LГѓ­za, don't say that: what comparison could there be between country and city life! LÍZA. What is there so specially fine about city life? NÁDYA. Well, everything is different there; the people themselves, and even the whole... more...

1. The Girl in the Chicken Coop The wind blew hard and joggled the water of the ocean, sending ripples across its surface. Then the wind pushed the edges of the ripples until they became waves, and shoved the waves around until they became billows. The billows rolled dreadfully high: higher even than the tops of houses. Some of them, indeed, rolled as high as the tops of tall trees, and seemed like... more...