Fiction Books

CHAPTER I "You may wait, Renaud." The voice was firm, but the lady herself hesitated as she stepped from the tonneau. There was no answer. Holding the flapping ends of her veil away from her face, she turned and looked fairly at the driver of the machine. He seemed a businesslike, capable man, though certain minor details of his chauffeur's rig were a bit unusual, and now that he had been... more...

CHAPTER IThe Model And Her Copies There is sure another Flood toward, that so many couples are coming to the Ark.—As You Like It “Ah! it is a pitiable case!” “What case, boys?” “Yours, mother, with such an influx of daughters-in-law.” “I suspect the daughters-in-law think themselves more to be pitied.” “As too many suns in one sphere.” “As daughters-in-law at all.”... more...

THE PROSECUTED FUNERAL PROCESSION. The news of the Manchester executions on the morning of Saturday, 23rd November, 1867, fell upon Ireland with sudden and dismal disillusion. In time to come, when the generation now living shall have passed away, men will probably find it difficult to fully realize or understand the state of stupor and amazement which ensued in this country on the first tidings of... more...

There was a man in our town, And he was wond'rous wise; He jumped into a bramble bush, And scratch'd out both his eyes! —Old Nursery Rhyme Peter de Hooch was dreaming that the moon had blown up when he awakened. The room was dark except for the glowing night-light near the door, and he sat up trying to separate the dream from reality. He focused his eyes on the glow-plate. What had wakened... more...

IT is not by any means certain what was the name by which Long Island was known to the aboriginal dwellers in its "forest primeval," or indeed that they ever had a common name by which to designate it. It seems probable that each tribe bestowed upon it a different name, expressive of the aspect that appeared most striking to its primitive and poetical visitors and occupants. Among so many... more...

INTRODUCTION "The Truce of God" by our American novelist and dramatist, George Henry Miles, is not only a romantic and interesting story, it recalls one of the most striking achievements of the Middle Ages. After the tide of barbarian invasion, Goths and Vandals, Heruli, Burgundians and Franks had swept away the edifice of Roman civilization, had it not been for the regenerating influence of... more...

he wind howled out of the northwest, blind with snow and barbed with ice crystals. All the way up the half-mile precipice it fingered and wrenched away at groaning ice-slabs. It screamed over the top, whirled snow in a dervish dance around the hollow there, piled snow into the long furrow plowed ruler-straight through streamlined hummocks of snow. The sun glinted on black rock glazed by ice, chasms and... more...

The Third Day at Stone’s River. While the heroic commander of the Union Army, with fearless confidence in his remaining troops, was hurling the hard-hitting brigades of the left and center upon Hardee’s victorious advance during the first day of the fight at Stones River, kindling anew the dying embers of hope in the breasts of the retreating soldiers of the right, and by his exalted courage... more...

SCENE I Dark shadows flit in groups across the background from right to left. MIRIAM Hadidja, I am afraid! HADIDJA Come! MIRIAM I am afraid. Seest thou not those gliding shadows? Their feet scarce touch the stones, and their flesh is like the shadow of the night-wind. HADIDJA Fool that thou art! Thou art afraid of thy companions in misery and suffering. The same need as thine brings them hither; the... more...

DIALOGUE I. SCENE. The road-side on the slope of a wooded hill near Fort Edward. The speakers, two young soldiers,—Students in arms. 1st Student. These were the evenings last year, when the bellFrom the old college tower, would find us stillUnder the shady elms, with sauntering stepAnd book in hand, or on the dark grass stretched,Or lounging on the fence, with skyward gazeAmid the sunset warble. Ah!... more...