Fiction Books

PIERRE LOTI The first appearance of Pierre Loti's works, twenty years ago, caused a sensation throughout those circles wherein the creations of intellect and imagination are felt, studied, and discussed. The author was one who, with a power which no one had wielded before him, carried off his readers into exotic lands, and whose art, in appearance most simple, proved a genuine enchantment for the... more...

GEORGE WASHINGTON No one ever tells a story about the early days in America without bringing in the name of George Washington. In fact he is called the Father of our country. But he did not get this name until he was nearly sixty years old; and all kinds of interesting things, like taming wild colts, fighting Indians, hunting game, fording rivers, and commanding an army, had happened to him before... more...

Scotland was always foremost in superstition. Her wild hills and lonely fells seemed the fit haunting-places for all mysterious powers; and long after spirits had fled, and ghosts had been laid in the level plains of the South, they were to be found lingering about the glens and glades of Scotland. Very little of graceful fancy lighted up the gloom of those popular superstitions. Even Elfame, or... more...

CHAPTER I I mind as if it were yesterday my first sight of the man. Little I knew at the time how big the moment was with destiny, or how often that face seen in the fitful moonlight would haunt my sleep and disturb my waking hours. But I mind yet the cold grue of terror I got from it, a terror which was surely more than the due of a few truant lads breaking the Sabbath with their play. The town of... more...

CHAPTER I TALES IN THE RAIN "How should I your true love know,   From another one?By his cockle hat and staff,   And his sandal shoon..." It was the fourth time that Felicia, at the piano, had begun the old song. Kenelm uncurled his long legs, and sat up straight on the window-seat. "Why on earth so everlasting gloomy, Phil?" he said. "Isn't the rain bad enough, without... more...

THE FISHERMAN AND THE DRAUG On Kvalholm, down in Helgeland, dwelt a poor fisherman, Elias by name, with his wife Karen, who had been in service at the parson's over at Alstad. They had built them a hut here, and he used to go out fishing by the day about the Lofotens. There could be very little doubt that the lonely Kvalholm was haunted. Whenever her husband was away, Karen heard all manner of... more...

SEA-HOARDINGSMy heart is open again and sea flows in,It shall fill with a summer of mists and winds and clouds and waves breaking,Of gull-wings over the green tide, of the surf's drenching din,Of sudden horizon-sails that come and vanish, phantom-thin,Of arching sapphire skies, deep and unaching.I shall lie on the rocks just over the weeds that drapeThe clear sea-pools, where birth and death in... more...

THE DANISH AND NORMAN PIRATES The Saxons, a people supposed to be derived from the Cimbri, uniting the occupations of fishing and piracy, commenced at an early period their ravages in the German Ocean; and the shores of Gaul and Britain were for ages open to their depredations. About the middle of the fifth century, the unwarlike Vortigern, then king of Britain, embraced the fatal resolution of... more...

THE THAMES AT SINODUN HILL Fresh water is almost the oldest thing on earth. While the rocks have been melted, the sea growing salter, and the birds and beasts perfecting themselves or degenerating, the fresh water has been always the same, without change or shadow of turning. So we find in it creatures which are inconceivably old, still living, which, if they did not belong to other worlds than ours,... more...

THE SHUNAMITE.It was a sultry day of summer time.The sun pour'd down upon the ripen'd grainWith quivering heat, and the suspended leavesHung motionless. The cattle on the hillsStood still, and the divided flock were allLaying their nostrils to the cooling roots,And the sky look'd like silver, and it seem'dAs if the air had fainted, and the pulseOf nature had run down, and... more...