Fiction Books

Chapter One. A few miles from the town of Southampton there is an old mansion-house, which has been for centuries known as Madeline Hall, in the possession of the de Versely family. It is a handsome building, surrounded by a finely timbered park of some extent, and, what is more important, by about 12,000 acres of land, which also appertain to it. At the period in which I commence this history, there... more...

Near the Levée, and not far from the old French Cathedral in the Place d'Armes, at New Orleans, stands a fine date-palm, thirty feet in height, spreading its broad leaves in the alien air as hardily as if its sinuous roots were sucking strength from their native earth. Sir Charles Lyell, in his Second Visit to the United States, mentions this exotic: "The tree is seventy or eighty years old;... more...

CHAPTER I INTRODUCING MYSELF "Nineteen to-day, is he!" said my uncle Jervas, viewing me languidly through his quizzing-glass. "How confoundedly the years flit! Nineteen—and on me soul, our poor youth looks as if he hadn't a single gentlemanly vice to bless himself with!" "Not one, Jervas, my boy," quoth my uncle George, shaking his comely head at me. "Not one, begad,... more...

itting at his desk, Colonel Halter brought the images on the telescreen into focus. Four booster tugs were fastening, like sky-barnacles, onto the hull of the ancient derelict, Alpha. He watched as they swung her around, stern down, and sank with her through the blackness, toward the bluish-white, moon-lighted arc of Earth a thousand miles below. He pressed a button. The image of tugs and hull faded... more...

TERESA FRANCES THOMPSON, who also bore my name by marriage, died on January 26, 1919. This verse is published to her memory, because I wish to keep together the poetry she occasioned and enable those who loved her—and they were a great many-to know definitely what she was to me. I think that is the truth. This is the only means I have at present of acknowledging publicly the vast debt I owe to her.... more...

MEMOIR. I was born in the year 1802, in Cumberland County, Downs Township, in the State of New Jersey, on the shores of Nantuxet Creek, not far from Delaware Bay, into which that creek flows. My father was a farmer,—not a very profitable occupation in that barren part of the country. My mother was a widow at the time of her marriage with my father, having three children by a former... more...

SPANISH GUIANA. ANGOSTURA. PALM-INHABITING TRIBES. MISSIONS OF THE CAPUCHINS. THE LAGUNA PARIME. EL DORADO. LEGENDARY TALES OF THE EARLY VOYAGERS. I shall commence this chapter by a description of Spanish Guiana (Provincia de la Guyana), which is a part of the ancient Capitania general of Caracas. Since the end of the sixteenth century three towns have successively borne the name of St. Thomas of... more...

PERSONAL POEMS A LAMENT      "The parted spirit,     Knoweth it not our sorrow? Answereth not     Its blessing to our tears?" The circle is broken, one seat is forsaken,One bud from the tree of our friendship is shaken;One heart from among us no longer shall thrillWith joy in our gladness, or grief in our ill. Weep! lonely and lowly are slumbering nowThe light of her glances, the... more...

THE CROSS. Richard Dillingham, a young member of the Society of Friends, died in the Nashville penitentiary, where he was confined for the act of aiding the escape of fugitive slaves. "The cross, if rightly borne, shall beNo burden, but support to thee;"So, moved of old time for our sake,The holy monk of Kempen spake. Thou brave and true one! upon whomWas laid the cross of martyrdom,How didst... more...

A LAMENT "The parted spirit,Knoweth it not our sorrow? Answereth notIts blessing to our tears?" The circle is broken, one seat is forsaken,One bud from the tree of our friendship is shaken;One heart from among us no longer shall thrillWith joy in our gladness, or grief in our ill. Weep! lonely and lowly are slumbering nowThe light of her glances, the pride of her brow;Weep! sadly and long shall... more...