Fiction Books

LETTER I MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FRIDAY EVENING. Just returned from an airing with my charmer, complied with after great importunity. She was attended by the two nymphs. They both topt their parts; kept their eyes within bounds; made moral reflections now-and- then. O Jack! what devils are women, when all tests are got over, and we have completely ruined them! The coach carried us to... more...

Samuel Appleton was born at New Ipswich, N.H., June 22, 1766, and died, without issue, at his residence in Boston, on Tuesday, July 12, 1853; having just entered on the eighty-eighth year of his age. In November, 1819, he married Mrs. Mary Gore, who was much younger than himself. This union has been marked, on his side, by the most unvarying confidence and sincere affection. He has ever found his own... more...

CHAPTER IMIRIAM, HILDA, KENYON, DONATELLOFour individuals, in whose fortunes we should be glad to interest the reader, happened to be standing in one of the saloons of the sculpture-gallery in the Capitol at Rome. It was that room (the first, after ascending the staircase) in the centre of which reclines the noble and most pathetic figure of the Dying Gladiator, just sinking into his death-swoon.... more...

AFTERWARD. There is no vacant chair. The loving meet—A group unbroken—smitten, who knows how?One sitteth silent only, in his usual seat;We gave him once that freedom. Why not now? Perhaps he is too weary, and needs rest;He needed it too often, nor could weBestow. God gave it, knowing how to do so best.Which of us would disturb him? Let him be. There is no vacant chair. If he will takeThe mood... more...

A SONG. I. No riches from his scanty store  My lover could impart;He gave a boon I valued more—  He gave me all his heart! II. His soul sincere, his gen'rous worth,  Might well this bosom move;And when I ask'd for bliss on earth,  I only meant his love. III. But now for me, in search of gain  From shore to shore he flies:Why wander riches to obtain,  When love is all I prize?... more...

The name "Sam Slick" has passed into popular use as standing for a somewhat conventional Yankee, in whom sharpness and verdancy are combined in curious proportions; but the book which gave rise to the name has long been out of print. It is now revived, under the impression that the reading public will have an interest in seeing a work which, more probably than any other one book, served to fix... more...

My dear ————, On a bright afternoon in summer, when we stand on the high ground above Saint Andrew's, and look seaward for the Inchcape Rock, we can discern at first nothing at all, and then, if the day favours us, an occasional speck of whiteness, lasting no longer than the wave that is reflecting a ray of sunlight upwards against the indistinguishable tower. But if we were to climb the... more...

My subject is Some Conditions of Child Life in England. And ought we not to expect some of these to be sad? No one who reflects can fail to see the fact that in this country to-day many conditions contribute to make ill-living people; and to make them regard children as nuisances. Vagrant habits; gambling; extravagant self-indulgence; idleness; unmarried parentage, and unfaithfulness in married... more...

Mrs. Ballinger is one of the ladies who pursue Culture in bands, as though it were dangerous to meet alone. To this end she had founded the Lunch Club, an association composed of herself and several other indomitable huntresses of erudition. The Lunch Club, after three or four winters of lunching and debate, had acquired such local distinction that the entertainment of distinguished strangers became... more...

BOOK-WORSHIP.   A book belongs in a peculiar manner to the age and nation that produce it. It is an emanation of the thought of the time; and if it survive to an after-time, it remains as a landmark of the progress of the imagination or the intellect. Some books do even more than this: they press forward to the future age, and make appeals to its maturer genius; but in so doing they still belong to... more...