Fiction Books

A STUDENT OF THEOLOGY. They were about to shut the Porte St. Gervais, the north gate of Geneva. The sergeant of the gate had given his men the word to close; but at the last moment, shading his eyes from the low light of the sun, he happened to look along the dusty road which led to the Pays de Gex, and he bade the men wait. Afar off a traveller could be seen hurrying two donkeys towards the gate, with... more...

I had been out of Germany for thirty-five years, drawn hither and thither by various glittering of will-of-the-wisps. When I returned to my native country, I was as poor in pocket as when I left, and much poorer in illusions. The Berlin insurance company which I had represented with such mediocre success in Switzerland, Austria and Belgium agreed to let me sell for them at home, and by a curious... more...

CHAPTER I THE VOICE OF THE WILDERNESS "It's always the way, Wallace! When a fellow starts on the long trail, he's never willing to quit. It'll be the same with you if you go with me to Labrador. When you come home, you'll hear the voice of the wilderness calling you to return, and it will lure you back again." It seems but yesterday that Hubbard uttered those prophetic words... more...

THE LONESOME TRAIL PART ONE A man is very much like a horse. Once thoroughly frightened by something he meets on the road, he will invariably shy at the same place afterwards, until a wisely firm master leads him perforce to the spot and proves beyond all doubt that the danger is of his own imagining; after which he will throw up his head and deny that he ever was afraid—and be quite amusingly... more...

I JERRY Only the good little snakes were permitted to enter the "Eden" that belonged to Aunt Jerry and Uncle Cornie Darby. "Eden," it should be explained, was the country estate of Mrs. Jerusha Darby—a wealthy Philadelphian—and her husband, Cornelius Darby, a relative by marriage, so to speak, whose sole business on earth was to guard his wife's wealth for six hours of the day... more...

A LONDON LIFE I It was raining, apparently, but she didn't mind—she would put on stout shoes and walk over to Plash. She was restless and so fidgety that it was a pain; there were strange voices that frightened her—they threw out the ugliest intimations—in the empty rooms at home. She would see old Mrs. Berrington, whom she liked because she was so simple, and old Lady Davenant, who was... more...

10-Minute Cranberry Sauce 2 cups sugar 2 cups water (one bag or box) Boil sugar and water together 5 minutes. Add cranberries and boil, without stirring, until all the skins pop open—about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and cool in saucepan. Makes one quart 10-Minute Cranberry Sauce. VARIATIONS Cranberry-Ambrosia. Pour sauce over thin-sliced oranges, top with shredded cocoanut for Cranberry Ambrosia.... more...

PROEM Beyond the pearly portal,Beyond the last dim star,Pale, perfect, and immortal,The eternal visions are,That never any raptureOf sorrow or of mirthOf any song shall captureTo dwell with men on earth. Many a strange and tragicOld sorrow still is muteAnd melodies of magicStill slumber in the flute,Many a mighty visionHas caught my yearning eyeAnd swept with calm derisionIn robes of splendor by. The... more...

CHAPTER I THE ARRIVAL OF VAL In northern Montana there lies a great, lonely stretch of prairie land, gashed deep where flows the Missouri. Indeed, there are many such—big, impassive, impressive in their very loneliness, in summer given over to the winds and the meadow larks and to the shadows fleeing always over the hilltops. Wild range cattle feed there and grow sleek and fat for the fall shipping... more...

THE LONELY DANCER I had no heart to join the dance,  I danced it all so long ago—Ah! light-winged music out of France,  Let other feet glide to and fro,Weaving new patterns of romance  For bosoms of new-fallen snow. But leave me thus where I may hear  The leafy rustle of the waltz,The shell-like murmur in my ear,  The silken whisper fairy-falseOf unseen rainbows circling... more...