Fiction Books

CHAPTER I GETTING IN Early in November, 1915, I sailed from New York to Rotterdam. I spent nearly a month in Holland completing my preparations, and at length one grey winter morning I took the step that I dreaded. I had left Germany six months before with a feeling that to enter it again and get safely out was hopeless, foolish, dangerous, impossible. But at any rate I was going to try. At Zevenaar,... more...

TO CROSS THE BAY "I wouldn't try a crossing in weather like this," warned the old man. "It's a bad time of year, what with the wind and all. Worse still, the lake water is lethal by November. That means if you capsize it will be the chill that does you in." The old man stopped short, conscious of the look of defiance in the youth's eyes. Young fool biting the nose to... more...

1. FRONT FOR LADY'S CABINET. (EMBROIDERY.) Materials—Black satin; six shades of crimson, five shades of yellow, three shades of puce, two shades of scarlet, three shades of yellow-greens, three shades of blue-greens, and two shades of brown embroidery silk, or of chenille Draw the design upon the satin, frame the work, and work in embroidery-stitch. The rose-leaves with the yellow-greens, the... more...

This book was not made; it has grown. When three years ago I left the pulpit to engage in literary work and took my seat among the laity in the pews, I found that many ecclesiastical and religious subjects presented a different aspect from that which they had presented when I saw them from the pulpit. I commenced in the CHRISTIAN UNION, in a series of "Letters from a Layman," to discuss from my... more...

INTRODUCTION. The Last Abbot of Whalley. There were eight watchers by the beacon on Pendle Hill in Lancashire. Two were stationed on either side of the north-eastern extremity of the mountain. One looked over the castled heights of Clithero; the woody eminences of Bowland; the bleak ridges of Thornley; the broad moors of Bleasdale; the Trough of Bolland, and Wolf Crag; and even brought within his ken... more...

I. There was a sepulchral tone in the voice, and well there might be, for it was a voice from the grave. Floating on the damp autumnal air, and echoing round the forest of tombs, it died away over the moors, on the edge of which the old God's-acre stood. Though far from melodious, it was distinct enough to convey to the ear the words of a well-known hymn—a hymn sung in jerky fragments, the... more...

LIGHT IN DARKNESS."Good God! to think upon a childThat has no childish days,No careless play, no frolics wild,No words of prayer and praise."—Landon.It was growing dark in the city. Out in the open country it would be light for half-an-hour or more; but in the streets it was already dusk. Upon the wooden door-step of a low-roofed, dark, and unwholesome-looking house, sat a little girl,... more...

ÉPÎTRE DÉDICATOIRE 17 Août, 1905. MON CHER DUJARDIN, Il se trouve que je suis Гѓ  Paris en train de corriger mes épreuves au moment où vous donnez les dernières retouches au manuscrit de 'La Source du Fleuve Chrétien,' un beau titre—si beau que je n'ai pu m'empêcher de le 'chipper' pour le livre de Ralph Elles, un personnage de mon roman qui ne parait... more...

PREFACE When Death has set his seal on an eminent man's career, there is a not unnatural curiosity to know something of his life, as revealed by himself, particularly in letters to intimate friends. "All biography ought, as much as possible, to be autobiography," says Stevenson, and of all autobiographical material, letters are the most satisfactory. Generally written on the impulse of the... more...

I A CHILD OF THE STAGE 1848-1856 This is the first thing I remember. In the corner of a lean-to whitewashed attic stood a fine, plain, solid oak bureau. By climbing up on to this bureau I could see from the window the glories of the sunset. My attic was on a hill in a large and busy town, and the smoke of a thousand chimneys hung like a gray veil between me and the fires in the sky. When the sun had... more...