Fiction Books

THE HUT IN THE FOREST. Outside in the forest there was deep snow. The white snow had crusted the branches of the pine trees, and piled itself up them till they bent under its weight. Now and then a snow-laden branch would bend too far, and huge lumps of snow fell crashing to the ground under the trees. Then the branch would swing up, and the snow covered it again with a cold white burden. Sitting in... more...

JOHN BUNYAN.      "Wouldst see     A man I' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee?" Who has not read Pilgrim's Progress? Who has not, in childhood, followed the wandering Christian on his way to the Celestial City? Who has not laid at night his young head on the pillow, to paint on the walls of darkness pictures of the Wicket Gate and the Archers, the Hill of Difficulty,... more...

TO BEGIN AT THE BEGINNING T the world as we know it had a beginning is a truth which there is no denying. Not only have philosophers always argued that it must be so: the researches of physical science assure us that it has been so in fact. Astronomy, says Professor Huxley, "leads us to contemplate phenomena the very nature of which demonstrates that they must have had a beginning." The... more...

OLD PLYMOUTH TRAILS "The breaking waves dashed highOn a stern and rock-bound coastAnd the woods against a stormy skyTheir giant branches tossed." So sang Felicia D. Hemans in the early years of the last century and she has been much derided by the thoughtless and irreverent who have said that the landing of the Pilgrims was not on a stern and rock-bound coast. Such scoffers evidently never... more...

OLD PORTRAITS AND MODERN SKETCHES Inscribed as follows, when first collected in book-form:—To Dr. G. BAILEY, of the National Era, Washington, D. C., thesesketches, many of which originally appeared in the columns of thepaper under his editorial supervision, are, in their present form,offered as a token of the esteem and confidence which years ofpolitical and literary communion have justified and... more...

OLD SPOOKSES' PASS. I. We'd camp'd that night on Yaller Bull Flat—  Thar was Possum Billy, an' Tom, an' me.Right smart at throwin' a lariat  Was them two fellers, as ever I see;An' for ridin' a broncho, or argyin' squar  With the devil roll'd up in the hide of a mule,Them two fellers that camp'd with me thar  Would hev made an'... more...

PREFACE. Mr. Buckingham, noticing the "Nautical Reminiscences" in the New England Magazine, says, no author ever stopped at the second book; and he very gravely proceeds to recommend that my number three should savor more of the style of Goldsmith or Washington Irving. I should have no objection whatever to writing like either of these distinguished authors, if I could; but as the case is, I... more...

Since we have had no stories to-night I will venture, Mr. President, to tell a story that I have heretofore heard at nearly all the banquets I have ever attended. It is a story simply, and you must bear with it kindly. It is a story as told by a friend of us all, who is found in all parts of all countries, who is immoderately fond of a funny story, and who, unfortunately, attempts to tell a funny story... more...

The last hushed chord died into silence, but the woman lingered, dreaming over the keys. Firelight from the end of the room brought red- gold gleams into the dusky softness of her hair and shadowed her profile upon the opposite wall. No answering flash of jewels met the questioning light—there was only a mellow glow from the necklace of tourmalines, quaintly set, that lay upon the white lace of her... more...

I. THE GROCER OF WOOD-STREET AND HIS FAMILY. One night, at the latter end of April, 1665, the family of a citizen of London carrying on an extensive business as a grocer in Wood-street, Cheapside, were assembled, according to custom, at prayer. The grocer's name was Stephen Bloundel. His family consisted of his wife, three sons, and two daughters. He had, moreover, an apprentice; an elderly female... more...