Fiction Books

CHAPTER I. Providential Intervention.--Nature and Providence alike Mysterious.--An Unseen Hand shaping Human Events.--The Author urged to enter the Ministry.--Shrinks from the Responsibility.--Flies to Modern Tarshish.--Heads for Iowa.--Gets Stuck in the Mud.--Smitten by a Northern Gale.--Turns Aside to see the Eldorado.--Finds Himself Face to Face with the Itinerancy. The ways of Providence are... more...

CHAPTER I 'Grandfather! I want to speak to you; please listen.' 'Well, who said I would not listen? But speak up, Biddy.' The old man put his hand to his ear, and his granddaughter leaned over the back of his chair. 'Don't call me Biddy, grandfather. I am Bryda.' 'Bryda! Phew! Your poor mother was called Biddy, and you ain't better than she was that I know... more...

MICHAEL ANGELO. A.D. 1475-1564. THE REVIVAL OF ART. Michael Angelo Buonarroti--one of the Great Lights of the new civilization--may stand as the most fitting representative of reviving art in Europe; also as an illustrious example of those virtues which dignify intellectual pre-eminence. He was superior, in all that is sterling and grand in character, to any man of his age,--certainly in Italy;... more...

CHAPTER I THE CURTAIN RISES "For the Lord's sake, Jennie—" Dick Welford paused at the bottom of a range of steps which wound up the capitol hill from Pennsylvania Avenue. The girl standing at the top stamped her foot imperiously. "Hurry—hurry!" "I won't—" "Then I'll leave you!" The boy laughed. "You don't dare. It's barely sunup—still... more...

I At about eleven o'clock in the evening of the 20th of February, 186—, which chanced to be Shrove Sunday, a party of detectives left the police station near the old Barriere d'Italie to the direct south of Paris. Their mission was to explore the district extending on the one hand between the highroad to Fontainebleau and the Seine, and on the other between the outer boulevards and the... more...

Early one morning, just as the trade wind began to lift the white mountain mist which enveloped the dark valleys and mountain slopes of the island, Denison, the supercargo of the trading schooner Palestine, put off from her side and was pulled ashore to the house of the one white trader. The man's name was Handle, and as he heard the supercargo's footstep he came to the door and bade him good... more...

Big Joe Merklos was the first of them. He appeared at the Wide Bend National Bank one day, cash in hand. The charm of him, his flashing smile, the easy strength in his big body, were persuasive recommendations. But the bank's appraisal scarcely got that far. Wasn't he the first buyer in fifteen years for that bone-yard of lonely dreams, Dark Valley? The county seat of Wide Bend presided over... more...

CHAPTER I The English colonies of North America renounced allegiance to their sovereign more through fear of future oppression than on account of burdens actually imposed. The colonies of Spain in the southern hemisphere, on the other hand, labored for generations under the burden of one of the most irrational and oppressive economic systems to which any portion of the human race has ever been... more...

I. When the thing was at its hottest, I bolted. Tom, like the darling he is—(Yes, you are, old fellow, you're as precious to me as—as you are to the police—if they could only get their hands on you)—well, Tom drew off the crowd, having passed the old gentleman's watch to me, and I made for the women's rooms. The station was crowded, as it always is in the afternoon, and in a... more...

TREASURE TROVE I sat fishing. I had not caught anything, of course—I rarely do, nor am I fond of fishing in the very smallest degree, but I fished assiduously all the same, because circumstances demanded it. It had all come about through Lady Warburton, Lisbeth's maternal aunt. Who Lisbeth is you will learn if you trouble to read these veracious narratives—suffice it for the present that she... more...