Fiction Books

CHAPTER I IF THEMISTOCLES HAD NOT BEATENARISTIDES IN AN ATHENIANELECTION Mithra instead of Jesus! The western world Zoroastrian, not Christian! The Persian Redeemer, always called the Light of the World in their scriptures; the helper of Ahura-Mazda, the Almighty, in his warfare with Ahriman, or Satan; the intercessor for men with the Creator; the Saviour of humanity; he, Mithra, might have been the... more...

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CHAPTER I CHILDHOOD AND APPRENTICESHIP William Blake was born on November 28th, 1757, at 28 Broad Street, Carnaby Market, Golden Square. To-day a large house stands in Broad Street numbered 28, to which is attached a blue disk announcing that William Blake, Poet and Artist, was born there. The house looks old and shabby, and may well have stood a hundred years; but on inquiry one finds that it is a... more...

I REBIRTH   To me no mortal but a spirit blest,  A Light-girt messenger of Love art thou—  The radiant star of Hope upon thy brow.  The thrice-pure fire of Love within thy breast!  Thou comest to me as a heavenly guest,  As God's fulfilment of the purest vow  Love's heart e'er made—thou com'st to show e'en now   The Infinite, th' Eternal and the Best!... more...

CHAPTER I. CONTRADICTORY LETTERS To Mr. F. R. Starr, Engineer, 30 Canongate, Edinburgh. IF Mr. James Starr will come to-morrow to the Aberfoyle coal-mines, Dochart pit, Yarrow shaft, a communication of an interesting nature will be made to him. "Mr. James Starr will be awaited for, the whole day, at the Callander station, by Harry Ford, son of the old overman Simon Ford." "He is requested... more...

LOCAL DESCRIPTIONS. Nothing is more idle, and, what is less to be forgiven in a writer, more tedious, than minute and lengthened descriptions of localities; where it is very doubtful whether the writers themselves had formed any tolerable notion of the place they describe,—it is certain their readers never can! These descriptive passages, in which writers of imagination so frequently indulge, are... more...

CHAPTER 1 It was Sunday, and, according to his custom on that day, McTeague took his dinner at two in the afternoon at the car conductors' coffee-joint on Polk Street. He had a thick gray soup; heavy, underdone meat, very hot, on a cold plate; two kinds of vegetables; and a sort of suet pudding, full of strong butter and sugar. On his way back to his office, one block above, he stopped at Joe... more...

CHAPTER I. Gervaise had waited up for Lantier until two in the morning. Then, shivering from having remained in a thin loose jacket, exposed to the fresh air at the window, she had thrown herself across the bed, drowsy, feverish, and her cheeks bathed in tears. For a week past, on leaving the "Two-Headed Calf," where they took their meals, he had sent her home with the children and never... more...

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he knock at the door came in the middle of the night, as Josip Pekic had always thought it would. He had been but four years of age when the knock had come that first time and the three large men had given his father a matter of only minutes to dress and accompany them. He could barely remember his father. The days of the police state were over, so they told you. The cult of the personality was a thing... more...