Fiction Books

CHAPTER I "PUT YOUR HOUSE IN ORDER!" In six minutes the noon whistle would blow. But the workmen—the seven hundred in the Ranger-Whitney flour mills, the two hundred and fifty in the Ranger-Whitney cooperage adjoining—were, every man and boy of them, as hard at it as if the dinner rest were hours away. On the threshold of the long room where several scores of filled barrels were being... more...

CHAPTER I THE COAST OF FRANCE I dare say that I had already read my uncle's letter a hundred times, and I am sure that I knew it by heart. None the less I took it out of my pocket, and, sitting on the side of the lugger, I went over it again with as much attention as if it were for the first time. It was written in a prim, angular hand, such as one might expect from a man who had begun life as a... more...

CHAPTER I. THE MYSTERIOUS LAND At dawn we beheld Japan. Precisely at the foretold moment the mysterious land arose before us, afar off, like a black dot in the vast sea, which for so many days had been but a blank space. At first we saw nothing by the rays of the rising sun but a series of tiny pink-tipped heights (the Fukai Islands). Soon, however, appeared all along the horizon, like a misty veil... more...

CHAPTER I Light, entering the vast room—a room so high that its carved ceiling refused itself to exact scrutiny—travelled, with the wistful, cold curiosity of the dawn, over a fantastic storehouse of Time. Light, unaccompanied by the prejudice of human eyes, made strange revelation of incongruities, as though illuminating the dispassionate march of history. For in this dining hall—one of the... more...

I. A CONFESSION OF FAITH. The Circus in Rome was thronged with an enormous crowd of persons on a day in June, about two thousand years ago. One hundred thousand men and women sat on its tiers of white marble seats, under the open sky and witnessed a gladiatorial contest in the arena, beneath. At the western end of the oval amphitheatre was the Emperor's box, flanked with tall Corinthian pillars,... more...

CHAPTER I. A MESSAGE FROM MARS. While I was glancing at the Times newspaper in a morning train for London my eyes fell on the following item:— A STRANGE LIGHT ON MARS.—On Monday afternoon, Dr. Krueger, who is in charge of the central bureau at Kiel, telegraphed to his correspondents:— "Projection lumineuse dans région australe du terminateur de Mars observée par Javelle 28 courant, 16... more...

CHAPTER I.Roll on thou deep and dark blue ocean roll;. . . . . . Upon the watery plain.The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remainA shadow of man's ravage, save his own,When for a moment like a drop of rain,He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. September 27, 1607. Dead bodies everywhere. The ocean, lashed to fury by the gale of... more...

PROLOGUE. It was November in London. The great city was buried under a dank, yellow fog. Traffic was temporarily checked; foot passengers groped their way by the light of the street lamps, and the hoarse shouts of the link boys running before cabs and carriages with blazing torches rang at intervals above the muffled rumble of countless wheels. In the coffee-room of a quiet hotel on the Strand a young... more...

BRIEF MEMOIR OF ELIZA SOUTHALL. Eliza Southall, wife of William Southall, Jr., of Birmingham, England, and daughter of John and Eliza Allen, was born at Liskeard, on the 9th of 6th month, 1823. As she felt a strong attachment to the scenes of her childhood, and an interest in the people among whom she spent the greater part of her short life,—an attachment which is evinced many times in the course of... more...

CHAPTER I. THE PLAIN—THE ISOLATED DWELLING—BLUE-BERRY PARTY—TAKING A VOTE—TREATMENT OF NEW ACQUAINTANCES—THE FAMILY AT APPLEDALE—THE YOUNG PEOPLE UPON THE PLAIN—SINCERE MILK OF THE WORD—A CALL AT THE LOG-HOUSE—THE RIDE HOME—ORIGINAL POETRY. Not more than a mile and a half from a pleasant village in one of our eastern States is a plain, extending many miles, and terminated on the... more...