Fiction Books

At fifteen, I became a resident in a country village, more than a hundred miles from home. The morning after my arrival—a September morning, but warm and bright as any in July—I rambled into a wood of oaks, with a few walnut-trees intermixed, forming the closest shade above my head. The ground was rocky, uneven, overgrown with bushes and clumps of young saplings, and traversed only by... more...

CHAPTER I On the Heart of the Hearth A strenuous sense of justice is the most disturbing of all virtues, and those persons in whom it predominates are usually as disagreeable as they are good. Any one who assumes the high plane of "justice to all, and confusion to sinners," may easily gain a reputation for goodness simply by doing nothing bad. Look wise and heavenward, frown severely but... more...

CHAPTER I THE FORTUNE TELLER On a day in May, not so long ago, Joan Vernon, coming out into the sunshine from her lodging in the Place de la Sorbonne, smiled a morning greeting to the statue of Auguste Comte, founder of Positivism. It would have puzzled her to explain what Positivism meant, or why it should be merely positive and not stoutly comparative or grandly superlative. As a teacher, therefore,... more...

It was eight o’clock at night and raining, scarcely a time when a business so limited in its clientele as that of a coin dealer could hope to attract any customer, but a light was still showing in the small shop that bore over its window the name of Baxter, and in the even smaller office at the back the proprietor himself sat reading the latest Pall Mall. His enterprise seemed to be justified, for... more...

CHAPTER I. THE YOUNG OUTLAW. "Boy, is this Canal Street?" The speaker was evidently from the country. He was a tall man, with prominent features, and a face seamed and wrinkled by the passage of nearly seventy years. He wore a rusty cloak, in the style of thirty years gone by, and his clothing generally was of a fashion seldom seen on Broadway. The boy addressed was leaning against a lamppost,... more...

Chapter I."Heaven lies about us in our infancy!Shades of the prison-house begin to closeUpon the growing boy;But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,He sees it in his joy.The youth who daily farther from the EastMust travel, still is Nature's priest,And by the vision splendidIs on his way attended;At length the man perceives it die away,And fade into the light of common... more...

Vol. 1LONDON,Printed for J. DODSLEY, in Pall Mall.MDCCLXIX.TO HIS EXCELLENCY GUY CARLETON, Esq. GOVERNOR AND COMMANDER IN CHIEF OF His Majesty’s Province of QUEBEC, &c. &c. &c.SIR,As the scene of so great a part of the following work is laid in Canada, I flatter myself there is a peculiar propriety in addressing it to your excellency, to whose probity and enlightened attention the colony... more...

CHAPTER I. THE morning-room of a large house in Portman Square, London. A gentleman in the prime of life stood with his elbow on the broad mantel-piece, and made himself agreeable to a young lady, seated a little way off, playing at work. To the ear he was only conversing, but his eyes dwelt on her with loving admiration all the time. Her posture was favorable to this furtive inspection, for she leaned... more...

THE PICTURE ALPHABET ERIE, PA.OLIVER SPAFFORD. ALPHABETBCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ& a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z fi ff fl ffi ffl 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10Antelope aBBull bCCat cDDog dEEagle eFFox fGGoat gHHawk hIIbex iJElk jKKite kLLynx lMMonkey mNNylghau nOOwl oPPig pQQuail qRRaccoon rSSnipe sTTortoise tUUrus VVulture vWWalrus wXThere is no word in the English language beginning... more...

We are doing the English cathedral towns, Aunt Celia and I. Aunt Celia has an intense desire to improve my mind. Papa told her, when we were leaving Cedarhurst, that he wouldn’t for the world have it too much improved, and Aunt Celia remarked that, so far as she could judge, there was no immediate danger; with which exchange of hostilities they parted. We are travelling under the yoke of an [p2] iron... more...