Fiction Books

CHAPTER ONE At 6:30 in our Paris apartment I had finished the Honourable George, performing those final touches that make the difference between a man well turned out and a man merely dressed. In the main I was not dissatisfied. His dress waistcoats, it is true, no longer permit the inhalation of anything like a full breath, and his collars clasp too closely. (I have always held that a collar may... more...

TOMY HUSBANDWILLIAM HILL-BRERETONTHIS LITTLE BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELYDEDICATED AKE! For the Spring has scattered into flight The Vows of Lent, and bids the heart be light. Bring on the Roast, and take the Fish away! The Season calls—and Woman's eyes are bright! EFORE the phantom of Pale Winter died, Methought the Voice of Spring within me cried, "When Hymen's rose-decked altars glow... more...

I.—INTRODUCTIONS. To introduce persons who are mutually unknown is to undertake a serious responsibility, and to certify to each the respectability of the other. Never undertake this responsibility without in the first place asking yourself whether the persons are likely to be agreeable to each other; nor, in the second place, without ascertaining whether it will be acceptable to both parties to... more...

L'Ombre is a Spanish Game at Cards, as much as to say, The Man: so he who undertakes to play the Game, sayes Jo so l'Ombre, or, I am the Man. And 'tis a common saying with the Spaniards, (alluding to the name) that the Spanish l'Ombre as far surpasses the French le Beste, as a Man do's a Beast, There are divers sorts of it, of which, this (which we shall only treat of, and... more...

INTRODUCTION I Turgenev is an author who no longer belongs to Russia only. During the last fifteen years of his life he won for himself the reading public, first in France, then in Germany and America, and finally in England. In his funeral oration the spokesman of the most artistic and critical of European nations, Ernest Renan, hailed him as one of the greatest writers of our times: 'The Master,... more...

EUPHEMIA AMONG THE PELICANS. The sun shone warm and soft, as it shines in winter time in the semi-tropics. The wind blew strong, as it blows whenever and wherever it listeth. Seven pelicans labored slowly through the air. A flock of ducks rose from the surface of the river. A school of mullet, disturbed by a shark, or some other unscrupulous pursuer, sprang suddenly out of the water just before us, and... more...

Ef you don't knowDoc SifersI'll jes argy, here and now,You've bin a mighty little while about here, anyhow!'Cause Doc he's rid these roads and woods—erswum'em, now and then—And practised in this neighberhood sence hain't no tellin' when! IIIn radius o' fifteen mile'd, all p'ints o' compass round,No man er woman, chick er child, er team, on... more...

“Pray speak gently, dear.” “Speak gently! how can a man speak gently? The things are of no value, but it worries me, I’ve taken such pains with them, through the cold weather, to bring them on.” “You have, Sir James, you have, sir; and I never let the fire go out once.” “No: but you’ve let the grapes go out, confound you! and if I find that you have been... more...

hurgub," said the tape recorder. "Just like I told you before, Dr. Blair, it's krandoor, so don't expect to vrillipax, because they just won't stand for any. They'd sooner framish." "Framish?" Jonathan heard his own voice played back by the recorder, tinny and slightly nasal. "What is that, Mr. Easton?" "You know. Like when you guttip. Carooms get... more...

CHAPTER I. How a Dove-cot was fluttered in Rossmoyne. The old-fashioned clock is ticking loudly, ponderously, as though determined to betray the flight of fickle time and impress upon the happy, careless ones that the end of all things is at hand. The roses knock their fragrant buds against the window-panes, calling attention to their dainty sweetness. The pigeons coo amorously upon the sills outside,... more...