Fiction Books

THE ADVENTURER. No. 34. SATURDAY, MARCH 3, 1753. Has toties optata exegit gloria pænas. Juv. Sat. x. 187. Such fate pursues the votaries of praise. TO THE ADVENTURER. SIR, Fleet Prison, Feb. 24. To a benevolent disposition, every state of life will afford some opportunities of contributing to the welfare of mankind. Opulence and splendour are enabled to dispel the cloud of adversity, to dry up the... more...

THE STORY OF FRITHIOF In Hilding's Garden So they grew up in joy and glee,And Frithiof was the young oak tree;Unfolding in the vale serenelyThe rose was Ingeborg the queenly. In the garden of Hilding, the teacher, were two young children. Ingeborg was a princess, the daughter of a King of Norway. The boy, Frithiof, was a viking's son. Their fathers, King Bele and Thorsten, were good friends,... more...

GOLIATH LEADS THE WAY Cynthia sat on her veranda steps, chin in hand, gazing dolefully at the gray September sky. All day, up to half an hour before, the sky had been cloudlessly blue, the day warm and radiant. Then, all of a sudden, the sun had slunk shamefacedly behind a high rising bank of cloud, and its retiring had been accompanied by a raw, chilly wind. Cynthia scowled. Then she shivered. Then... more...

THE NOTCH OF THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. It was now the middle of September. We had come since sunrise from Bartlett, passing up through the valley of the Saco, which extends between mountainous walls, sometimes with a steep ascent, but often as level as a church-aisle. All that day and two preceding ones we had been loitering towards the heart of the White Mountains,—those old crystal hills, whose... more...

CHAPTER XIV Mrs. Chalk watched the schooner until it was a mere white speck on the horizon, a faint idea that it might yet see the error of its ways and return for her chaining her to the spot. Compelled at last to recognise the inevitable, she rose from the turf on which she had been sitting and, her face crimson with wrath, denounced husbands in general and her own in particular. "It's my... more...

CHAPTER I. A MORNING OF MISADVENTURES. "Well, my Lord, are we to pass the day here," said Count Trouville, the second of the opposite party, as Norwood returned from a fruitless search of George Onslow, "or are we to understand that this is the English mode of settling such matters?" "I am perfectly ready, Monsieur le Comte, to prove the contrary, so far as my own poor abilities... more...

CHAPTER I A STAR BOARDER At the end of a warm spring day in New York, James Stuart sat in the open window of his room on Washington Square, smiling. With a sense of deep joy he watched the trees shake the raindrops from their new emerald robes, and the flying clouds that flecked the Western sky melt into seas of purple and gold. A huckster turned into Fourth Street, crying: "Straw—berries!... more...

What was known of Captain Hagberd in the little seaport of Colebrook was not exactly in his favour. He did not belong to the place. He had come to settle there under circumstances not at all mysterious—he used to be very communicative about them at the time—but extremely morbid and unreasonable. He was possessed of some little money evidently, because he bought a plot of ground, and had a pair of... more...

A friend—and a mysterious stranger. “Hillo, Singleton, old chap, how are you?” exclaimed a young fellow of about eighteen years of age, as he laid his hand upon the shoulder of a lad about his own age, who, on a certain fine July day in the year of grace 1894, was standing gazing into the window of a shop in Piccadilly. The speaker was a somewhat slightly-built youth, rather tall and slim, by no... more...

CHAPTER I HEART BURNINGS She did not want to hate the girls; indeed, since she loved them all, it would go particularly hard with her if she had to hate them; love turned to hate is such a virulent product! But, certainly, she had never found it so hard to be patient with them. They were all five her college classmates, of only last year's class, and it was dear and kind of them to drive out here... more...