Fiction Books

CHAPTER I PATRICIA'S INDISCRETION "She never has anyone to take her out, and goes nowhere, and yet she can't be more than twenty-seven, and really she's not bad-looking." "It's not looks that attract men," there was a note of finality in the voice; "it's something else." The speaker snapped off her words in a tone that marked extreme disapproval.... more...

Uncle John’s Journal. My family had for centuries owned the same estate, handed down from father to son undiminished in size, and much increased in value. I believe there had been among them in past generations those who feared the Lord. I know that my father was a man of true piety. “Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you,” was his favourite motto. What a world of doubt and... more...

With vast foundations seamed and knit, And wrought and bound by golden bars, Sierra's peaks serenely sit And challenge heaven's sentry-stars. Why this book? Because last year, in the heart of the Sierras, I saw women and children chained together and marched down from their cool, healthy homes to degradation and death on the Reservation. At the side of this long, chained line, urged on and... more...

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...

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...

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...

PART ONE In the fierce airless heat of the small square room the child Judith panted as she lay on her bed. Her father and mother slept near her, drowned in the heavy slumber of workers after their day's labour. Some people in the next flat were quarrelling, irritated probably by the appalling heat and their miserable helplessness against it. All the hot emanations of the sun-baked city streets... more...

THE EGYPTIAN BONDAGE The old worker in ebony and cabinet-maker, Amram, dwelt by the river-side in a clay-hut which was covered with palm-leaves. There he lived with his wife and three children. He was yellow in complexion and wore a long beard. Skilled in his trade of carving ebony and hard wood, he attended at Pharaoh's court, and accordingly also worked in the temples. One morning in midsummer,... 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...