Fiction Books

CHAPTER I. Brian Falls in Love Still humanity grows dearer,Being learned the more. Jean Ingelow. There are three things in this world which deserve noquarter—Hypocrisy, Pharisaism, and Tyranny. F. Robertson People who have been brought up in the country, or in small places where every neighbor is known by sight, are apt to think that life in a large town must lack many of the interests which they... more...

AN OLD NOBLEMAN AND AN OLD MAÎTRE-D'HÔTEL. It was the beginning of April, 1784, between twelve and one o'clock. Our old acquaintance, the Marshal de Richelieu, having with his own hands colored his eyebrows with a perfumed dye, pushed away the mirror which was held to him by his valet, the successor of his faithful Raffè and shaking his head in the manner peculiar to himself, "Ah!"... more...

FEEDING HER BIRDS Original Picture: Lille Museum, Lille, France. Artist: Jean François Millet (zhäN fräN´swä´´ mÄ“´lÄ•´´). Birthplace: Gruchy, France. Dates: Born, 1814; died, 1875. Questions to arouse interest. What do you see in this picture? What are the children doing? Where do they live? On what are they sitting? Whom can you see behind the house? What is he doing? What... more...

It was last winter, after a twelve years' absence from New York, that I saw again, at one of the Jim Cumnors' dinners, my old friend Halston Merrick. The Cumnors' house is one of the few where, even after such a lapse of time, one can be sure of finding familiar faces and picking up old threads; where for a moment one can abandon one's self to the illusion that New York humanity is... more...

CHAPTER I.Roll on thou deep and dark blue ocean roll;. . . . . . Upon the watery plain.The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remainA shadow of man's ravage, save his own,When for a moment like a drop of rain,He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. September 27, 1607. Dead bodies everywhere. The ocean, lashed to fury by the gale of... more...

Chapter I "Oh, that child! She is the very torment of my life. I have been the mother of six children, and all of them put together, never gave me as much trouble as that girl. I don't know what will ever become of her." "What is the matter now, Aunt Susan? What has Annette been doing?" "Doing! She is always doing something; everlastingly getting herself into trouble with some... more...

The Pithecanthropus Silent as the shadows through which he moved, the great beast slunk through the midnight jungle, his yellow-green eyes round and staring, his sinewy tail undulating behind him, his head lowered and flattened, and every muscle vibrant to the thrill of the hunt. The jungle moon dappled an occasional clearing which the great cat was always careful to avoid. Though he moved through... more...

CHAPTER FIRST. FRANCES MEETS THE SPECTACLE MAN."The bridge is broke, and I have to mend it,  Fol de rol de ri do, fol de rol de ri do—"sang the Spectacle Man, leaning his elbows on the show-case, with his hands outspread, and the glasses between a thumb and finger, as he nodded merrily at Frances. Such an odd-looking person as he was! Instead of an ordinary coat he wore a velvet... more...

CHAPTER ONE "Ideas," she said. "Oh, as for ideas—" "Well?" I hazarded, "as for ideas—?" We went through the old gateway and I cast a glance over my shoulder. The noon sun was shining over the masonry, over the little saints' effigies, over the little fretted canopies, the grime and the white streaks of bird-dropping. "There," I said, pointing toward it,... more...

PROLOGUE. It was November in London. The great city was buried under a dank, yellow fog. Traffic was temporarily checked; foot passengers groped their way by the light of the street lamps, and the hoarse shouts of the link boys running before cabs and carriages with blazing torches rang at intervals above the muffled rumble of countless wheels. In the coffee-room of a quiet hotel on the Strand a young... more...