Fiction Books

PERSONAL POEMS A LAMENT      "The parted spirit,     Knoweth it not our sorrow? Answereth not     Its blessing to our tears?" The circle is broken, one seat is forsaken,One bud from the tree of our friendship is shaken;One heart from among us no longer shall thrillWith joy in our gladness, or grief in our ill. Weep! lonely and lowly are slumbering nowThe light of her glances, the... more...

CHAPTER I. The long June day was drawing to its close. Hot and strong the slanting sunbeams beat upon the grimy roofs of the train and threw distorted shadows over the sand and sage-brush that stretched to the far horizon. Dense and choking, from beneath the whirring wheels the dust-clouds rose in tawny billows that enveloped the rearmost coaches and, mingling with the black smoke of the... more...

Chapter I The long, long road over the moors and up into the forest—who trod it into being first of all? Man, a human being, the first that came here. There was no path before he came. Afterward, some beast or other, following the faint tracks over marsh and moorland, wearing them deeper; after these again some Lapp gained scent of the path, and took that way from field to field, looking to his... more...

PROLOGUE Come, sit with me beside the broad hearthstone and gaze into the depths of the fire when it burns low, for not among the leaping flames alone are there to be seen marvelous things. Deep hidden from your eyes at first, but plainly visible as you look closer, are countless forms of brightness and of beauty. You will find them among the shining coals that glimmer in scarlet and gold before you... more...

An Algerine Story. The Hero is Blown away, Captured, Crushed, Comforted, and Astonished. One beautiful summer night, about the beginning of the present century, a young naval officer entered the public drawing-room of a hotel at Nice, and glanced round as if in search of some one. Many people were assembled there—some in robust, others in delicate, health, many in that condition which rendered it... more...

You are not supposed to believe this story, and if you ask Sam Yoder about it, he is apt to say that it's all a lie. But Sam is a bit sensitive about it. He does not want the question of privacy to be raised again—especially in Rosie's hearing. And there are other matters. But it's all perfectly respectable and straightforward. It could have happened to anybody—well, almost anybody.... more...

Colour In the Willows Darling … the colour has come back, in the willows.Remember how it was, last year? Incredibly orange …Little orange willow switchesHardly bending;Remember the white shore roadAnd the blue water in the BayStill fretted with clotted snowAt the sand edge?The sky was a light, high blueAnd all the clouds were little, and frisky.And we kept making wagers about the willowsAt every... more...

THE DREAM DOCTOR "Jameson, I want you to get the real story about that friend of yours, Professor Kennedy," announced the managing editor of the Star, early one afternoon when I had been summoned into the sanctum. From a batch of letters that had accumulated in the litter on the top of his desk, he selected one and glanced over it hurriedly. "For instance," he went on reflectively,... more...

CHAPTER I. "Frankie," said mamma one evening, just as he was going to bed, "to-morrow you will be six years old; how should you like to have a party of your young friends?" "I should like it very much indeed," replied the boy, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. "You have been trying to improve lately, my dear, and have almost conquered your hasty temper. Your father and I... more...

I. In the best room of a farm-house on the skirts of a village in the hills of Northern Massachusetts, there sat one morning in August three people who were not strangers to the house, but who had apparently assembled in the parlor as the place most in accord with an unaccustomed finery in their dress. One was an elderly woman with a plain, honest face, as kindly in expression as she could be perfectly... more...