Fiction Books

"REMEMBER ME." "Remember me!" How swift the tide   Of memory glideth o'er the past;Those sunny hours so quickly sped,   Perchance a few with clouds o'ercast.But memory hath more lasting flowers,   Which Time's rude hand can ne'er efface,The sweets we cull from friendship's bowers,   The gems affection's altar grace. "Remember me!" In... more...

INTRODUCTION These disjointed thoughts about one of Leonard Merrick's most articulate books must begin with a personal confession. For many years I walked about this earth avoiding the works of Leonard Merrick, as other men might have avoided an onion. This insane aversion was created in my mind chiefly by admirers of what is called the "cheerful" note in fiction. Such people are... more...

CHAPTER I In the year 1850 or thereabouts religious and charitable society in England was seized with a desire to convert Irish Roman Catholics to the Protestant faith. It is clear to everyone with any experience of missionary societies that, the more remote the field of actual work, the easier it is to keep alive the interest of subscribers. The mission to Roman Catholics, therefore, commenced in that... more...

In preparing this work for publication it seems proper to offer some observations explanatory of its design. The classical reader will perceive the obstacles which necessarily presented themselves in reconciling the nature of the subject with such a manner of treating it as should appear the most poetical, and at the same time the most likely to arrive at that degree of dignity and usefulness to which... more...

CHAPTER I. The first rays of early dawn threw their shadowy light over hill and dale, and all nature seemed animated with new life as the fresh spring breeze kissed the young blades of grain in the fields. Ever brighter and more glowing grew the eastern horizon, ever more golden the light, floating clouds, until at last the dazzling rays of the king of day flashed forth upon the expectant world. With... more...

THE BOATSWAIN'S MATE Mr. George Benn, retired boat-swain, sighed noisily, and with a despondent gesture, turned to the door and stood with the handle in his hand; Mrs. Waters, sitting behind the tiny bar in a tall Windsor-chair, eyed him with some heat. "My feelings'll never change," said the boatswain. "Nor mine either," said the landlady, sharply. "It's a strange... more...

REVOLUTION “The present is enough for common souls,Who, never looking forward, are indeedMere clay, wherein the footprints of their ageAre petrified for ever.” I received a letter the other day.  It was from a man in Arizona.  It began, “Dear Comrade.”  It ended, “Yours for the Revolution.”  I replied to the letter, and my letter began, “Dear Comrade.”  It ended, “Yours for the... more...

"When you come to reflect that there are only a few planks between you and the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, it makes you feel sort of pensive." "I beg your pardon?" The stranger, smoking his cigarette in the lee of the deck-cabins, turned his head sharply in the direction of the voice. He encountered the wide, unembarrassed gaze of a girl's grey eyes. She had evidently just come... more...

CHAPTER I THE GIRL WHO TOOK A DARE "Attention, children! Close copy books and pass them to the right. Monitors, collect." Tired Miss Phelps laid down her crayon, with one sweep of her arm erased the letter exercises she had so laboriously traced on the blackboard for her fifty pupils to copy, wiped the clinging chalk from her dry, chapped hands, and sank wearily into her chair beside the... more...

THE MARQUESS WELLESLEY. The revival of noble recollections, the record of great actions, and the history of memorable times, form one of the highest services which a writer can offer to his country. They mould the national Character, and upon the character depends the greatness of every nation. Why have the mighty kingdoms of the East perished without either general reverence or personal value, but... more...