Fiction Books

During the summer of 1867 I had the opportunity (which I had often wished for) of expressing in print my estimate and admiration of the works of the American poet Walt Whitman.[1] Like a stone dropped into a pond, an article of that sort may spread out its concentric circles of consequences. One of these is the invitation which I have received to edit a selection from Whitman's writings; virtually... more...

AUTHOR'S PREFACE I recall to mind a British colonel, who said to me in Calcutta: "This is the third time that I have been sent to India. Twenty-five years ago, as lieutenant, and then the Russians were some fifteen hundred miles from the Indian frontier; then, six years since, as captain, and the Russians were then only five hundred miles away. A year ago I came here as lieutenant-colonel, and... more...

The ringing of the door bell cut into Henderson's concentration and he made a gesture of irritation with one outflung hand. But he didn't raise his head or shift his eyes one iota from the tiny green thing on his laboratory table. Tensely absorbed, he stood watching the small miracle he had made and emotion approaching exultation gripped him. He slid one hand toward a switch, never moving his... more...

CHAPTER I SENT INTO SERVITUDE Knowing this to be a narrative of unusual adventure, and one which may never even be read until long after I have departed from this world, when it will be difficult to convince readers that such times as are herein depicted could ever have been reality, I shall endeavor to narrate each incident in the simplest manner possible. My only purpose is truth, and my only witness... more...

PREFACE.Observations extending over a period of twenty-five years, made at Fungus Forays and kindred meetings where Mycologists assemble together, has led to the conviction that familiarity with the Fungi and literature pertaining thereto, of one country only, leads to a false impression as to the significance of the term 'species.' It conveys the idea that species are much more sharply... more...

THE THREE SISTERS Thirty years ago on a wet autumn evening the household of Mallett's Lodge was gathered round the death-bed of Ursula Mallow, the eldest of the three sisters who inhabited it. The dingy moth-eaten curtains of the old wooden bedstead were drawn apart, the light of a smoking oil-lamp falling upon the hopeless countenance of the dying woman as she turned her dull eyes upon her... more...

Coming to the King. I came from very far to see    The King of Salem, for I had been toldOf glory and of wisdom manyfold,  And condescension infinite and free.Now could I rest, when I had heard his fame,  In that dark lonely land of death, from whence I came? I came (but not like Sheba's queen), alone!      No stately train, no costly gifts to bring;No friend at court, save One the... more...

“Two bad Boys”—Sergeant Ripsy. “Oh, bother!” The utterer of these two impatient words threw down a sheet of notepaper from which he had been reading, carefully smoothed out the folds to make it flat, and then, balancing it upon one finger as he sat back in a cane chair with his heels upon the table, gave the paper a flip with his nail and sent it skimming out of the window of his military... more...

CHAPTER I.PROLOGUE—THE WANDERER. Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Tennyson’s . Not much of a picture, certainly! Only a stretch of wide sunny road, with a tamarisk hedge and a clump of shadowy elms; a stray sheep... more...

IFor myself, (1) I hold to the opinion that not alone are the serious transactions of "good and noble men" (2) most memorable, but that words and deeds distinctive of their lighter moods may claim some record. (3) In proof of which contention, I will here describe a set of incidents within the scope of my experience. (4) (1) See Aristid. ii. foll. (2) Or, "nature's noblemen." (3)... more...