Fiction Books

CHAPTER I My father—peace to his soul!—had been of those who thronged London streets with wine tubs to drink the restored king's health on bended knee; but he, poor gentleman, departed this life before his monarch could restore a wasted patrimony. For old Tibbie, the nurse, there was nothing left but to pawn the family plate and take me, a spoiled lad in his teens, out to Puritan kin of Boston... more...

TRAGEDY There, pressed so close to the pane of the window that the nose was flattened grotesquely, eyes wildly staring, hair disheveled, was a face that even in that tense moment the girls recognized! the face of Professor Dempsey! It took the boys perhaps a second to fling out of the room, jump down the steps of the porch and circle the house to the window. And yet, in that second, the man was gone,... more...

For many years this work has been known under the title of Letters to Eugenia. The secretive character of those, however, into whose hands the manuscript at first fell; the singular and yet actual pleasure that is caused generally enough in the minds of all men by the exclusive possession of any object whatever; that kind of torpor, servitude, and terror in which the tyrannical power of the priests... more...

CHAPTER I 1818-1846 BIRTH—PARENTS—HOME SURROUNDINGS AND EARLY LIFE Maria Mitchell was born on the island of Nantucket, Mass., Aug. 1, 1818.She was the third child of William and Lydia [Coleman] Mitchell. Her ancestors, on both sides, were Quakers for many generations; and it was in consequence of the intolerance of the early Puritans that these ancestors had been obliged to... more...

Joey Barrett set his camera carefully to one side and swung onto the edge of the desk. He knew this annoyed Nugent, and, at the moment, nothing gave him greater satisfaction than his ability to irritate the editor. His heels thunked against the highly polished sides of the desk, and he shook his head very deliberately, in rhythm with the heel-hammering. "No," he said. "I don't think... more...

CHAPTER I. The street was broad, with sidewalks, and wide grass-grown borders, and a spacious track of wheels and horses' feet in the centre. Great elms, which the early settlers planted, waved their pendant branches over the peaceful highway, and gave shelter and nest-room to numerous orioles, killdeer, and robins; putting off their yellow leaves in the autumn, and bearing their winter weight of... more...

CHAPTER I. A FRIENDLY WARNING "Mary Adams, you're a fool!" The single dimple in a smooth red cheek smiled in answer. "You're repeating yourself, Jane——" "You won't give him one hour's time for just three sittings?" "Not a second for one sitting——" "Hopeless!" Mary smiled provokingly, her white teeth gleaming in obstinate good humor.... more...

CHAPTER I TWO YOUNG PEOPLE, A SHIP, AND A FISH The month was September and the place was in the neighbourhood of Bridgetown, in the island of Barbadoes. The seventeenth century was not seventeen years old, but the girl who walked slowly down to the river bank was three years its senior. She carried a fishing-rod and line, and her name was Kate Bonnet. She was a bright-faced, quick-moving young person,... more...

CHAPTER I. There was once, it may be now many hundred years ago, a good old fisherman, who was sitting one fine evening before his door, mending his nets. The part of the country in which he lived was extremely pretty. The greensward, on which his cottage stood, ran far into the lake, and it seemed as if it was from love for the blue clear waters that the tongue of land had stretched itself out into... more...

A BRIDGE OF PERIL No more delightful experience may be had than to wake up in the harbour of Aden some fine morning—it is always fine there—and get the first impression of that mighty fortress, with its thousand iron eyes, in strong repose by the Arabian Sea. Overhead was the cloudless sun, and everywhere the tremulous glare of a sandy shore and the creamy wash of the sea, like fusing opals. A tiny... more...