Fiction Books

CHAPTER I. The next morning Edmond felt himself considerably better. Cavalier continually flitted before his eyes, and it appeared to him as if arms lifted him from his couch, in order to follow his friends. When Eustace had fallen asleep towards noon, he arose quietly, took his rifle and with light footsteps hastily descended the mountain path. He felt light and well, it seemed as if he had never yet... more...

PREFACE Measured by the standards of duration, absence of violent commotions, maintenance of law and order, general prosperity and contentment of the people, and by the extent of its influence on the institutions and political thought of other lands, the English government has been one of the most remarkable the world has ever known. An attempt, therefore, to study it at any salient epoch cannot be... more...

JUDGE FOR YOURSELF. "Do we move ourselves, or are moved by an Unseen Hand at a game?"—Tennyson. Honor Meredith folded her arms upon the window-ledge of the carriage and looked out into the night: a night of strange, unearthly beauty. The full moon hung low in the west like a lamp. A chequered mantle of light and shadow lay over the mountain-barrier of India's north-western frontier, and... more...

Old Deemster Christian of Ballawhaine was a hard man—hard on the outside, at all events. They called him Iron Christian, and people said, "Don't turn that iron hand against you." Yet his character was stamped with nobleness as well as strength. He was not a man of icy nature, but he loved to gather icicles about him. There was fire enough underneath, at which he warmed his old heart when... more...

CHAPTER I THE LAND OF THE WINDIGO The solitudes of the East Coast had shaken off the grip of the long snows. A thousand streams and rivers choked with snow water from bleak Ungava hills plunged and foamed and raced into the west, seeking the salt Hudson's Bay, the "Big Water" of the Crees. In the lakes the honeycombed ice was daily fading under the strengthening sun. Already, here and... more...

I — THE TUTOR, KARL IVANITCH On the 12th of August, 18— (just three days after my tenth birthday, when I had been given such wonderful presents), I was awakened at seven o'clock in the morning by Karl Ivanitch slapping the wall close to my head with a fly-flap made of sugar paper and a stick. He did this so roughly that he hit the image of my patron saint suspended to the oaken back of my bed,... more...

A GREETING 'What funny clothes you wear, dear Readers! And your hats! The thought of your hats does make me laugh. And I think your sex-theories quite horrid.' Thus across the void of Time I send, with a wave of my hand, a greeting to that quaint, remote, outlandish, unborn people whom we call Posterity, and whom I, like other very great writers, claim as my readers—urging them to hurry up... more...

The Sale of the Water-Lily And these would sometimes come, and cheerThe widow with a song,To let her feel a neighbor near,And wing an hour along. A pond, supplied by hidden springs,With lilies bordered round,Was found among the richest things,That blessed the widow's ground. She had, besides, a gentle brook,That wound the meadow through,Which from the pond its being took,And had its treasures too.... more...

CHAPTER I. A FASCINATING YOUNG WIDOW OPENS THE STORY. "Appleton, don't look quite yet, but there's a woman just behind you whom I want you to see. I never before saw such a face and figure! They are simply perfection!" The above remarks were made by a young man, perhaps thirty years of age, to his companion, who, evidently, was somewhat his senior. The two gentlemen were seated at a... more...

OUR SEA                     The Sea! the Sea!                Our own home-land, the Sea!  'Tis, as it always was, and still, please God, will be,                    When we are gone,                        Our own,                 Possessing it for Thee,               Ours, ours, and... more...