Fiction Books

The sun was blazing down upon a city on the western shore of the Caspian. It was a primitive city, and yet its size and population rendered it worthy of the term. It consisted of a vast aggregation of buildings, which were for the most part mere huts. Among them rose, however, a few of more solid build and of higher pretensions. These were the abodes of the chiefs and great men, the temples, and places... more...

THE EARRING. "Come oot o' the gutter, ye nickum!" cried, in harsh, half-masculine voice, a woman standing on the curbstone of a short, narrow, dirty lane, at right angles to an important thoroughfare, itself none of the widest or cleanest. She was dressed in dark petticoat and print wrapper. One of her shoes was down at the heel, and discovered a great hole in her stocking. Had her black... more...

A SKIRMISH As the wind veered and grew cooler a ribbon of haze appeared above the Gulf-stream. Young Hamil, resting on his oars, gazed absently into the creeping mist. Under it the ocean sparkled with subdued brilliancy; through it, shoreward, green palms and palmettos turned silvery; and, as the fog spread, the sea-pier, the vast white hotel, bathing-house, cottage, pavilion, faded to phantoms tinted... more...

THE STRENGTHOF GIDEON THE STRENGTH OF GIDEON Old Mam' Henry, and her word may be taken, said that it was "De powerfulles' sehmont she ever had hyeahd in all huh bo'n days." That was saying a good deal, for the old woman had lived many years on the Stone place and had heard many sermons from preachers, white and black. She was a judge, too. It really must have been a powerful... more...

Hunting.Certes it is a noble sportAnd men have quitted selle and swum for't,But I am of a meeker sortAnd I prefer Surtees in comfort.Reach down my "Handley Cross" again.My run, where never danger lurks, isWith Jorrocks and his deathless trainPigg, Binjimin and Arterxerxes! January. Most men harry the world for fun—Each man seeks it a different wayBut "of all daft devils under the... more...

Jackson kept his promise to write to Westover, but he was better than his word to his mother, and wrote to her every week that winter. "I seem just to live from letter to letter. It's ridic'lous," she said to Cynthia once when the girl brought the mail in from the barn, where the men folks kept it till they had put away their horses after driving over from Lovewell with it. The trains... more...

"YIM" Dar ban a little faller,  Ay tenk his name ban Yim,And nearly every morning  Ay used to seeing him.He used to stand in gatevay,  And call me Svede, and ayAnt lak to hear dis nickname:  Ay ban a Norsk, yu say. But he ban little faller,  Ay tenk 'bout sax years old,And so ay used to lak him—  He ban too small to scold.Ay used to say, "Val, Yimmie,  Ay ant ban Svede,... more...

CHAPTER I. ANDREW HOWLAND belonged to that class of rigid moralists who can tolerate in others no wanderings from the right way. His children were forced into the straight jacket of external consistency from their earliest infancy; and if they deviated from the right line in which they were required to walk, punishment was sure to follow. A child loves his parent naturally. The latter may be harsh, and... more...

Evening Prayer. "Our Father." The mother's voice was low and tender, and solemn. "Our Father." On two sweet voices the tones were borne upward. It was the innocence of reverent children that gave them utterance. "Who art in heaven." "Who art in heaven," repeated the children, one with her eyes bent meekly down, and the other looking upward, as if she would penetrate... more...

Barbara Thorne sat leaning her head on her hand, looking at a photograph that lay on the table beneath her eyes. She had not intended to look for that when she pulled out a dusty drawer full of old letters, papers, and account-books to arrange and set in order. But when in the course of her rummaging and tidying she found that picture in her hand, she paused in her task. The neglected drawer stood... more...