Fiction Books

A Peep at the Wonder Club. Towards the close of the last century there stood in one of the Midland counties of England, in the centre of two cross-roads, a venerable hostelry, built in the reign of Elizabeth, and known by the sign of "Ye Headless Lady." Its ancient gables were shaded by luxuriant elms and beech trees. The woodwork of the building and its weather-stained walls of brick were... more...

CROMWELL. Mr Carlyle's services to history in collecting and editing these letters and speeches of Cromwell, all men will readily and gratefully acknowledge. A work more valuable as a guide to the study of the singular and complex character of our pious revolutionist, our religious demagogue, our preaching and praying warrior and usurper, has not been produced. There is another portion of Mr... more...

I This is the story of Margaret Hugonin and of the Eagle. And with yourpermission, we will for the present defer all consideration of thebird, and devote our unqualified attention to Margaret. I have always esteemed Margaret the obvious, sensible, mostappropriate name that can be bestowed upon a girl-child, for it is aname that fits a woman--any woman--as neatly as her proper size ingloves. Yes, the... more...

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We Jolly Sailor Boys. “Come along, boys; look sharp! Here’s old Dishy coming.” “Hang old Dishipline; he’s always coming when he isn’t wanted. Tumble over.” We three lads, midshipmen on board HM clipper gunboat the Teaser, did “tumble over”—in other words, made our way down into the boat alongside—but not so quickly that the first lieutenant, Mr Reardon, who, from his slightly... more...

I. THE WATER GOATS "And then," said the landscape gardener, combing his silky, pointed beard gently with his long, artistic fingers, "in the lake you might have a couple of gondolas. Two would be sufficient for a lake of this size; amply sufficient. Yes," he said firmly, "I would certainly advise gondolas. They look well, and the children like to ride on them. And so do the adults.... more...

22.My brain began to fail when the fourth mornBurst o'er the golden isles—a fearful sleep,Which through the caverns dreary and forlornOf the riven soul, sent its foul dreams to sweep _1300With whirlwind swiftness—a fall far and deep,—A gulf, a void, a sense of senselessness—These things dwelt in me, even as shadows keepTheir watch in some dim charnel's loneliness,A shoreless sea, a... more...

Page 1 INTRODUCTION MY FUNDAMENTAL POLITICAL VIEWS BEFORE AND DURING THE WAR It was in my own home, the German Embassy in London, where the atmosphere was entirely political, that I learned my first steps in politics. My father did not belong to that class of diplomats, so prevalent to-day, who treat politics as an occupation to be pursued only in their spare time. His whole life was consecrated to the... more...

If our readers have perchance stumbled upon a novel called "The Improvisatore" by one Hans Christian Andersen, a Dane by birth, they have probably regarded it in the light merely of a foreign importation to assist in supplying the enormous annual consumption of our circulating libraries, which devour books as fast as our mills do raw cotton;—with some difference, perhaps, in the result, for... more...

Just before the close of the performances at Niblo's Garden, where the Jarrett combination was then playing, one evening in the latter part of June, 1862, two young men came out from the doorway of the theatre and took their course up Broadway toward the Houston Street corner. Any observer who might have caught a clear view of the faces of the two as they passed under one of the large lamps at the... more...