Fiction Books

THE CONVICT’S FAREWELL, &c.   Farewell ye partner of my woes, farewell!The finest language could but faintly tell,What I now feel in writing this adieu,What you must suffer when I’m far from you.There was a time when happiness my lot,I liv’d serenely in my little cot;No wicked thoughts did there disturb my rest,My children round me, by a father prest;No father now, methinks I hear them... more...

I was expatriated by a man with an axe. The man and the axe were alike visionary and unreal, though it needed a very considerable effort of the will to hold them at mental arm's length. I had work on hand which imperatively demanded to be finished, and I was so broken down by a long course of labour that it was a matter of actual difficulty with me when I sat down at my desk of a morning to lay... more...

CHAPTER I. The Dead City The city without life lay handsomely along a river in the early sunlight of a September morning. Death had seemingly not been long upon it, nor had it made any scar. No breach or rent or disorder or sign of violence could be seen. The long, shaded streets breathed the still airs of utter peace and quiet. From the half-circle around which the broad river bent its moody current,... more...

THE only way to be happy with a husband is to learn to be happy without him most of the time.LOVE is just the shine on the jewel of matrimony; but, after all, the shine on a jewel is the whole thing.A MAN firmly believes that, if he can only keep his wife in the straight and narrow path, he can go out and zig-zag all over the downward one without falling from grace.A GIRL is never so surprised when a... more...

The Widow."WHAT would you say," asked the widow, tucking her skirts cautiously about her patent leather toes and leaning back luxuriously against the variegated pillows, "if I should tell you that I have found the very girl who would make you a model wife?"The bachelor glanced up indifferently and dipped the paddle lazily into the water. "What model?" he asked, suspiciously.... more...

STRIKE HANDS, YOUNG MEN!    Strike hands, young men!We know not whenDeath or disaster comes,Mightier than battle-drumsTo summon us away.Death bids us say farewellTo all we love, nor stayFor tears;—and who can tellHow soon misfortune's handMay smite us where we stand,Dragging us down, aloof,Under the swift world's hoof?    Strike hands for faith, and powerTo gladden the passing hour;To... more...

CHAPTER I. EARLY YEARS. BIRTH AND PARENTAGE—SCHOOL AND COLLEGE—TASTE FOR PHILOSOPHY—TRAINING FOR PUBLIC LIFE—M.P. FOR SOUTHAMPTON—SPEECH ON THE ADDRESS—APPOINTED GOVERNOR OF JAMAICA. [Sidenote: Birth and parentage.] James, eighth Earl of Elgin and twelfth Earl of Kincardine, was born in London on July 20, 1811. His father, whose career as Ambassador at Constantinople is so well known in... more...

The Prince of Pingaree CHAPTER 1 If you have a map of the Land of Oz handy, you will find that the great Nonestic Ocean washes the shores of the Kingdom of Rinkitink, between which and the Land of Oz lies a strip of the country of the Nome King and a Sandy Desert. The Kingdom of Rinkitink isn't very big and lies close to the ocean, all the houses and the King's palace being built near the... more...

THE MASTER OF ST. HOSPITAL. 'As poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things…' The Honourable and Reverend Eustace John Wriothesley Blanchminster, D.D., Master of St. Hospital-by-Merton, sat in the oriel of his library revising his Trinity Gaudy Sermon. He took pains with these annual sermons, having a quick and fastidious sense of literary style. "It... more...

WORRIES OF A WINTER WALK The other winter, as I was taking a morning walk down to the East River, I came upon a bit of our motley life, a fact of our piebald civilization, which has perplexed me from time to time, ever since, and which I wish now to leave with the reader, for his or her more thoughtful consideration. The morning was extremely cold. It professed to be sunny, and there was really some... more...