Fiction Books

It seemed like a dream to be invited to join a party on a private Pullman car for an extended tour of close on eight thousand miles, all in these our United States! Yet such was the opportunity which was generously offered us in this springtime of 1898. It was to be "A Flight in Spring" of most intense interest. The journey was to embrace in its continued circuit, from New York back to New... more...

CHAPTER I. "Did you tell her that Dr. Hargrove is absent?" "I did, ma'am; but she says she will wait." "But, Hannah, it is very uncertain when he will return, and the night is so stormy he may remain in town until to-morrow. Advise her to call again in the morning." "I said as much at the door, but she gave me to understand she came a long way, and should not leave here... more...

ORIGINS OF LATIN LITERATURE: EARLY EPIC AND TRAGEDY. To the Romans themselves, as they looked back two hundred years later, the beginnings of a real literature seemed definitely fixed in the generation which passed between the first and second Punic Wars. The peace of B.C. 241 closed an epoch throughout which the Roman Republic had been fighting for an assured place in the group of powers which... more...

The old folks call it Yeddo. To the young, "Tokyo" has a pleasant, modern sound, and comes glibly. But whether young or old, those whose home it is know that the great flat city, troubled with green hills, cleft by a shining river, and veined in living canals, is the central spot of all the world. Storms visit Tokyo,—with fury often, sometimes with destruction. Earthquakes cow it; snow falls... more...

SPRINGSpring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!The palm and may make country houses gay,Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo.The fields breathe sweet, the daisies... more...

I CONFESS it, I am keenly sensitive to "skyey influences." (2) I profess no indifference to the movements of that capricious old gentleman known as the clerk of the weather. I cannot conceal my interest in the behavior of that patriarchal bird whose wooden similitude gyrates on the church spire. Winter proper is well enough. Let the thermometer go to zero if it will; so much the better, if... more...

CHAPTER I. HANDICAPPED One may use the Old Man of the Sea,For a partner or patron,But helpless and hapless is heWho is ridden, inextricably,By a fond old mer-matron. The Warden house was more impressive in appearance than its neighbors. It had "grounds," instead of a yard or garden; it had wide pillared porches and "galleries," showing southern antecedents; moreover, it had a cupola,... more...

CHAPTER I A BOTHERSOME BAG "Mother, are you there?" "Yes, Marjorie; what is it, dear?" "Nothing. I just wanted to know. Is Kitty there?" "No; I'm alone, except for Baby Rosy. Are you bothered?" "Yes, awfully. Please tell me the minute Kitty comes. I want to see her." "Yes, dearie. I wish I could help you." "Oh, I wish you could! You'd be... more...

The manner in which a man has lived is often the key to the way he will die. Take old man Donegal, for example. Most of his adult life was spent in digging a hole through space to learn what was on the other side. Would he go out the same way? Old Donegal was dying. They had all known it was coming, and they watched it come—his haggard wife, his daughter, and now his grandson, home on emergency leave... more...

CHAPTER I. CASTLE MISERY Upon the southern slope of one of those barren hills that rise abruptly here and there in the desolate expanse of the Landes, in South-western France, stood, in the reign of Louis XIII, a gentleman's residence, such as abound in Gascony, and which the country people dignify by the name of chateau. Two tall towers, with extinguisher tops, mounted guard at the angles of the... more...