Fiction Books

Eugene Lane and his Guests. The world considered Eugene Lane a very fortunate young man; and if youth, health, social reputation, a seat in Parliament, a large income, and finally the promised hand of an acknowledged beauty can make a man happy, the world was right. It is true that Sir Roderick Ayre had been heard to pity the poor chap on the ground that his father had begun life in the workhouse; but... more...

Chapter I The Shadow of Change "Harvest is ended and summer is gone," quoted Anne Shirley, gazing across the shorn fields dreamily. She and Diana Barry had been picking apples in the Green Gables orchard, but were now resting from their labors in a sunny corner, where airy fleets of thistledown drifted by on the wings of a wind that was still summer-sweet with the incense of ferns in the... more...

CHAPTER I. THE YOUNG ADVENTURERS, LTD. "TOMMY, old thing!" "Tuppence, old bean!" The two young people greeted each other affectionately, and momentarily blocked the Dover Street Tube exit in doing so. The adjective "old" was misleading. Their united ages would certainly not have totalled forty-five. "Not seen you for simply centuries," continued the young man. "Where... more...

THE GREEK SLAVE AND THE LITTLE ROMAN BOY Ariston, the Greek slave, was busily painting. He stood in a little room with three smooth walls. The fourth side was open upon a court. A little fountain splashed there. Above stretched the brilliant sky of Italy. The August sun shone hotly down. It cut sharp shadows of the columns on the cement floor. This was the master's room. The artist was painting... more...

CHAPTER I A MIGHTY LITTLE HUNTER It all commenced that bright November day of the Indian rabbit drive and hunt. The motley army of the Piute tribe was sweeping tremendously across a sage-brush valley of Nevada, their force two hundred braves in number. They marched abreast, some thirty yards apart, and formed a line that was more than two miles long. The spectacle presented was wonderful to see. Red,... more...

EPISTLES. EPISTLE I. TO MY HONOURED FRIEND SIR ROBERT HOWARD,[1] ON HIS EXCELLENT POEMS.   As there is music uninform'd by art  In those wild notes, which, with a merry heart,  The birds in unfrequented shades express,  Who, better taught at home, yet please us less:  So in your verse a native sweetness dwells,  Which shames composure, and its art excels.  Singing no more can your... more...

Chapter One The Physical Basis if Metaphysics The Hindu system of physics, on which the metaphysical thought of the East is based, does not in its beginnings differ widely from the latest physics of the West; but it goes so much farther that our physics is soon lost sight of and forgotten. The Hindu conception of the material universe, taken from the Upanishads and some open teaching, will serve for an... more...

“I believe I have the pleasure of seeing Mr ——,” said a voice in English, as I paused for a moment, my breakfast concluded, before the door of a Palais Royal coffee-house, planning the disposal of my day. I looked at the person who thus addressed me; and, although I pique myself on rarely forgetting the face of an acquaintance, in this instance my memory was completely at fault. But for his... more...

Slovenly BetsyBetsy would never wash herselfWhen from her bed she rose,But just as quickly as she couldShe hurried on her clothes.To keep her clothes all nice and cleanMiss Betsy took no pains;In holes her stockings always were,Her dresses filled with stains.Sometimes she went day after dayAnd never combed her hair,While little feathers from her bedStuck on it here and there.The schoolboys, when they... more...

Lotus World There was a shading of rose in the pearl arch of sky, deepening at the horizon meeting of sea and air in a rainbow tint of cloud. The lazy swells of the ocean held the same soft color, darkened with crimson veins where spirals of weed drifted. A rose world bathed in soft sunlight, knowing only gentle winds, peace, and—sloth. Ross Murdock leaned forward over the edge of the rock ledge to... more...