Fiction Books

CHAPTER I OF A GREAT WHITE BIRD UPON A LAKE Spring was stealing lightly over the Connecticut hills, a shy, tender thing of delicate green winging its way with witch-rod over the wooded ridges and the sylvan paths of Diane Westfall's farm. And with the spring had come a great hammering by the sheepfold and the stables where a smiling horde of metropolitan workmen, sheltered by night in the rambling... more...

CHAPTER I. The Ortl'er is the Mont Blanc of the Tyrol, and seen from Nauders, a village on a green, grassy table land, more than four thousand feet above the sea, can well bear comparison with the boldest of the Swiss Alps. Nauders itself, a type of a Tyroler village, is situated in a wild and lonely region; it has all the picturesque elegance and neat detail of which Tyrolers are so lavish in... more...

CHAPTER I. Hôtel des Princes, Paris. It is a strange thing to begin a "Log" when the voyage is nigh ended! A voyage without chart or compass has it been: and now is land in sight—the land of the weary and heart-tired! Here am I, at the Hôtel des Princes, en route for Italy, whither my doctors have sentenced me! What a sad record would be preserved to the world if travellers were but to fill... more...

CHAPTER I "Hi boys! Here goes for a double summersault!" "Bet you don't do it, Frank." "You watch." "Every time you try it you come down on your back," added another lad of the group of those who were watching one of their companions poised on the end of a spring-board. "Well, this time I'm going to do it just like that circus chap did," and Frank... more...

CHAPTER I DICK IS IN A HURRY "Here comes Dick Hamilton!" exclaimed a flashily-dressed youth to his companion, no less gaily attired, as the two stood in front of a building from which sounded a peculiar clicking noise. "So it is, Guy," was the answer. "Let's get him into a game. Maybe I can win a little money. I need it, for I'm nearly dead broke." "I thought you... more...

CHAPTER I. DICK'S DADDY. etween Fox Peak and Smoke Creek Desert, on the western edge of the State of Nevada, is a beautiful valley, carpeted with bunch grass, which looks particularly bright and green to the venturesome traveller who has just crossed either of the two deserts lying toward the east. "Buffalo Meadows" the Indians named it, because of the vast herds of American bison found... more...

CHAPTER I "TWO TINY SPECKS OF NOTHING" "How do you feel, Dick! As spruce as you did an hour ago!" Candidate Greg Holmes put the question with a half-nervous laugh. He spoke in a whisper, too, as if to keep his agitation from reaching the notice of any of the score or more of other young men in the room of Mr. Ward, the aged notary at West Point. "I'll be glad when I see some... more...

CHAPTER I ON FURLOUGH IN THE OLD HOME TOWN "My son, Richard. He is home on his furlough from the MilitaryAcademy at West Point." Words would fail in describing motherly pride with which Mrs. Prescott introduced her son to Mrs. Davidson, wife of the new pastor. "I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Prescott," said Mrs. Davidson, looking up, for up she had to glance in order to see the face of... more...

CHAPTER I. THE BRIG-SCHOONER "PILGRIM." On February 2, 1876, the schooner "Pilgrim" was in latitude 43° 57' south, and in longitude 165° 19' west of the meridian of Greenwich. This vessel, of four hundred tons, fitted out at San Francisco for whale-fishing in the southern seas, belonged to James W. Weldon, a rich Californian ship-owner, who had for several years intrusted... more...

CHAPTER I. THE “PILGRIM.” On the 2nd of February, 1873, the “Pilgrim,” a tight little craft of 400 tons burden, lay in lat. 43° 57’, S. and long. 165° 19’, W. She was a schooner, the property of James W. Weldon, a wealthy Californian ship-owner who had fitted her out at San Francisco, expressly for the whale-fisheries in the southern seas. James Weldon was accustomed every season to send... more...