Fiction Books

CHAPTER XVIII. Let a king and a beggar converse freely together, and it is the beggar's fault if he does not say something which makes the king lift his hat to him. The scene shifts back to Gatesboro', the forenoon of the day succeeding the memorable exhibition at the Institute of that learned town. Mr. Hartopp was in the little parlour behind his country-house, his hours of business much... more...

CHAPTER I. In which the history opens with a description of the social manners,habits, and amusements of the English People, as exhibited in animmemorial National Festivity.—Characters to be commemorated in thehistory, introduced and graphically portrayed, with a nasologicalillustration.—Original suggestions as to the idiosyncrasiesengendered by trades and callings, with other matters worthy... more...

HOW WE FARED IN THE SUEZ DESERT. T he welcome cry of "Suez! Suez!" resounded throughout the steamship Bentinck one November morning. The passage up the Red Sea had been rough, and every one was glad to exchange the rolling and pitching of the vessel for land travelling. The railway between Cairo and Suez was not yet finished, and travellers crossed the desert in vans, each of which held six... more...

The telephone bell rang sharply in the sunlit and charming, if shabby, hall of Old Place. To John Tosswill there was always something incongruous, and recurringly strange, in this queer link between a little country parish mentioned in Domesday Book and the big bustling modern world. The bell tinkled on and on insistently, perhaps because it was now no one's special duty to attend to it. But at... more...

CHAPTER I. "I won't give you any farther trouble, I can find what I want myself." The sexton's wife looked at the gentleman in some little surprise, and then glanced at the bunch of huge keys which hung in the door she had just opened for the stranger. "That's right; you need not be uneasy, I shall not stay long, and here is something for your trouble." He pressed a piece... more...

INTRODUCTION. It is a strange thing, that when I feel most fervently and most deeply, my hands and my tongue seem alike tied, so that I cannot rightly describe or accurately portray the thoughts that are rising within me; and yet I am a painter: my eye tells me as much as that, and all my friends who have seen my sketches and fancies say the same. I am a poor lad, and live in one of the narrowest of... more...

There is no lie so totally convincing as something the other fellow already knows-for-sure is the truth. And no cover-story so convincing…The building itself was unprepossessive enough. It was an old-fashioned, six-floor, brick structure that had, over the years, served first as a private home, then as an apartment building, and finally as the headquarters for the organization it presently housed. It... more...

GAMES FOR A PARTY Blind Man's Buff "Blind Man's Buff" is one of the best, oldest, and simplest of games. One player is blindfolded, is turned round two or three times to confuse his ideas as to his position in the room, and is then told to catch whom he can. If he catches some one, yet cannot tell who it is, he must go on again as blind man; but if he can tell who it is, that person... more...

PREFACE In this little book the writer has aimed to present, in brief and simple form, sound principles which may assist the young in deciding their future course of life. The subject of vocation, as it is called, has suffered much, during the last two or three centuries, at the hands of rigorist authors, who so hedged the approach to religious life with difficulties and restrictions, as to frighten or... more...

CHAPTER FIRST OLD MARY ANN For three days the Spring sun had been shining out of a clear sky and casting a gleaming, golden coverlet over the blue waters of Lake Geneva. Storm and rain had ceased. The breeze murmured softly and pleasantly up in the ash-trees, and all around in the green fields the yellow buttercups and snow-white daisies glistened in the bright sunshine. Under the ash-trees, the clear... more...