Fiction Books

The two-vehicle caravan emerged from the sandy wastes of the erg and approached the small encampment of Taitoq Tuareg which consisted of seven goat leather tents. They were not unanticipated, the camp's scouts had noted the strange pillars of high-flung dust which were set up by the air rotors an hour earlier and for the past fifteen minutes they had been visible to all. The turmoil in Africa is... more...

PRELUDE A young idealist, ætat four, was selling stars to put in the sky. She had cut them with her own scissors out of red tissue paper, so that she was able to give a guarantee. "But you'll have to get the ladder out of our bedroom to put 'em up wiv," she told purchasers honestly. The child was a wild dark creature, slim and elfish, with a queer little smile that flashed sudden as... more...

CHAPTER I "THE BLACK-ROBED PHANTOM 'DEATH'" "Father Adrian!" "I am here!" "I saw the doctor talking with you aside! How long have I to live? He told you the truth! Repeat his words to me!" The tall, gaunt young priest drew nearer to the bedside, and shook his head with a slow, pitying gesture. "The time was short—short indeed. Yet, why should you fear?... more...

I. CHORDS OF AWAKENING: THE HIGHER CONQUEST [CUTLER]      _The Son of God goes forth to war,           A kingly crown to gain:     His blood-red banner streams afar:           Who follows in His train?      Who best can drink his cup of woe,           Triumphant over pain;     Who patient bears his cross below,           He follows in His... more...

Come, now, there may as well be an end of this! Every time I meet your eyes squarely, I detect the question just slipping out of them. If you had spoken it, or even boldly looked it; if you had shown in your motions the least sign of a fussy or fidgety concern on my account; if this were not the evening of my birthday, and you the only friend who remembered it; if confession were not good for the soul,... more...

TOWARDS THE GOAL No. 1 March 24th, 1917. DEAR MR. ROOSEVELT,—It may be now frankly confessed—(you, some time ago, gave me leave to publish your original letter, as it might seem opportune)—that it was you who gave the impulse last year, which led to the writing of the first series of Letters on "England's Effort" in the war, which were published in... more...

IDYLL I. The Death of Daphnis.THYRSIS. A GOATHERD. THYRSIS. Sweet are the whispers of yon pine that makes Low music o'er the spring, and, Goatherd, sweet Thy piping; second thou to Pan alone. Is his the horned ram? then thine the goat. Is his the goat? to thee shall fall the kid; And toothsome is the flesh of unmilked kids. GOATHERD. Shepherd, thy lay is as the noise of streams Falling and falling... more...

CHAPTER I SOME CONTRASTS—HENLEY, THOMPSON, HARDY, KIPLING Meaning of the word "advance"—the present widespread interest in poetry—the spiritual warfare—Henley and Thompson—Thomas Hardy a prophet in literature—The Dynasts—his atheism—his lyrical power—Kipling the Victorian—his future possibilities—Robert Bridges—Robert W. Service. Although English poetry of the twentieth... more...

BILL THE BLOODHOUND There's a divinity that shapes our ends. Consider the case of HenryPifield Rice, detective. I must explain Henry early, to avoid disappointment. If I simply said he was a detective, and let it go at that, I should be obtaining the reader's interest under false pretences. He was really only a sort of detective, a species of sleuth. At Stafford's International... more...

PREFACE. If asked why I took in hand a task of such difficulty and delicacy as that of writing a History of the Church in our Dominion, I can really find no more truthful answer than that of the schoolboy, "Please, Sir, I couldn't help it." From boyhood's days in the old country, when a copy of the Life of Marsden fell into my hands, I felt drawn to the subject; the reading of... more...