Fiction Books

CHAPTER I A DESPATCH FOR LONGSTREET It was a bare, plain interior,—the low table at which he sat an unplaned board, his seat a box, made softer by a folded blanket. His only companions were two aides, standing silent beside the closed entrance, anxious to anticipate his slightest need. He will abide in my memory forever as I saw him then,—although we were destined to meet often afterwards,—that... more...

CHAPTER I. It was past midnight, and both men were smoking leisurely by the study fireside. Morgan Druce sat just on the edge of a low chair, his long, slim body bent forward, his clean-shaven boyish face well within the glow of the fire. Though he appeared to be looking at it, he was only conscious of its warmth. Robert Ingram, middle-aged and bearded, lolled back in sensuous comfort. "The long... more...

CHAPTER I. A WATCHER OF LILIES. "Unto whom all hearts be open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid."—Collect, English Communion Service. In one of the south-western counties of England, some years ago, and in a deep, well-wooded valley where men made perry and cider, wandered little and read less, there was a hamlet with neither farm nor cottage in it, that had not stood two... more...

CHAPTER I Judging from my own experience it is my opinion that many strange and wonderful events have happened during the past in which man took part, that have never been recorded. Many reasons could be given for this, but the main causes perhaps, are that the participants have lacked the intelligence, education or literary ability to properly describe them. In these respects I must admit my own... more...

It was just as he saw The Barbarian's squat black tankette lurch hurriedly into a nest of boulders that young Giulion Geoffrey realized he had been betrayed. With the muzzle of his own cannon still hot from the shell that had jammed The Barbarian's turret, he had yanked the starboard track lever to wheel into position for the finishing shot. All around him, the remnants of The... more...

CHAPTER I. THE SENESCHAL OF DAUPHINY My Lord of Tressan, His Majesty's Seneschal of Dauphiny, sat at his ease, his purple doublet all undone, to yield greater freedom to his vast bulk, a yellow silken undergarment visible through the gap, as is visible the flesh of some fruit that, swollen with over-ripeness, has burst its skin. His wig—imposed upon him by necessity, not fashion lay on the table... more...

The Shyster   Shyster, n. [Origin obscure.] One who does business trickily; a person without professional honor: used chiefly of lawyers; as, pettifoggers and shysters.—CENTURY DICTIONARY. When Terry McGurk hove the brick through the window of Froelich's butcher shop he did it casually, on general principles, and without any idea of starting anything. He had strolled unexpectedly round the... more...

THE BIRTHRIGHT OF CHILDHOOD It Is the Sacred Right of the Child To Be Well-Born If the child has any divine right in this world, it is the right to be well-born, to be brought into the world sound of body and whole in mind. To be given anything short of such a good beginning is to be handicapped throughout life. Education and training cannot make up for the defects imposed on the child by the sins of... more...

A PARTY AT WORSTED SKEYNES The year was 1891, the month October, the day Monday. In the dark outside the railway-station at Worsted Skeynes Mr. Horace Pendyce's omnibus, his brougham, his luggage-cart, monopolised space. The face of Mr. Horace Pendyce's coachman monopolised the light of the solitary station lantern. Rosy-gilled, with fat close-clipped grey whiskers and inscrutably pursed... more...

THE GOOD RESOLUTION. "Why am I so unhappy to-day?" said Isabella Gardner, as she opened her eyes on the morning of her fourteenth birth-day. "Is it because the sun is not bright enough, or the flowers are not sweet enough?" she added, as she looked on the glorious sunshine that lay upon the rose-bushes surrounding her window. Isabella arose, and dressed herself, and tried to drive away... more...