Fiction Books

A SELECTION FROM THE DISCOURSES OF EPICTETUS. OF THE THINGS WHICH ARE IN OUR POWER AND NOT IN OUR POWER.—Of all the faculties (except that which I shall soon mention), you will find not one which is capable of contemplating itself, and, consequently, not capable either of approving or disapproving. How far does the grammatic art possess the contemplating power? As far as forming a judgment about what... more...

I. GAYETY AND DYNAMITE "BARINIA, the young stranger has arrived." "Where is he?" "Oh, he is waiting at the lodge." "I told you to show him to Natacha's sitting-room. Didn't you understand me, Ermolai?" "Pardon, Barinia, but the young stranger, when I asked to search him, as you directed, flatly refused to let me." "Did you explain to him that... more...

INTRODUCTION Daudet once remarked that England was the last of foreign countries to welcome his novels, and that he was surprised at the fact, since for him, as for the typical Englishman, the intimacy of home life had great significance. However long he may have taken to win Anglo-Saxon hearts, there is no question that he finally won them more completely than any other contemporary French novelist... more...

CHAPTER I MAKING THE BEST OF THINGS "Marjorie." The clear call rang out, breaking the afternoon stillness of the ranch, but there was no response, and after waiting a moment Miss Graham gave her wheeled chair a gentle push, which sent it rolling smoothly across the porch of the ranch house, down the inclined plane, which served the purpose of steps, to the lawn. It was very hot, the sun was... more...

CHAPTER I THE WOLF AND THE BADGER The time was in or about the year 1544, when the Emperor Charles V. ruled the Netherlands, and our scene the city of Leyden. Any one who has visited this pleasant town knows that it lies in the midst of wide, flat meadows, and is intersected by many canals filled with Rhine water. But now, as it was winter, near to Christmas indeed, the meadows and the quaint gabled... more...

AM I NOT A MAN AND BROTHER? AIR—Bride's Farewell. Am I not a man and brother?  Ought I not, then, to be free?Sell me not one to another,  Take not thus my liberty.Christ our Saviour, Christ our Saviour,  Died for me as well as thee. Am I not a man and brother?  Have I not a soul to save?Oh, do not my spirit smother,  Making me a wretched slave;God of mercy, God of... more...

In this little Extravaganza, I have done just what I intended. I have attempted to describe, in an auto-biographical sort of way, a well-meaning, but somewhat vain young gentleman, who, having flirted desperately with the Magazines, takes it into his silly head to write a novel, all the chapters of which are laid before the reader, with some running criticism by T. James Barescythe, Esquire, the... more...

As one approaches my little city from the sea on a summer's day, one sees only the tall, round clump of trees on the ramparts and, overtopping it, the old bell-tower with its fantastically shaped and ornamented stories and dome-top of deep cobalt blue. The land to either side is barely visible, and the green foliage flooded with pale sunshine seems to drift in the sun-mist on the grayish yellow... more...

When it was the Forty-ninth Night, She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the damsel ceased not to drink and ply Sharrkan with drink till he took leave of his wits, for the wine and the intoxication of love he bore her. Presently she said to the slave girl, "O Marjanah[FN#188]! bring us some instruments of music!" "To hear is to obey," said the hand maid and going out,... more...

It was now almost too dark to distinguish objects; duskier and vaguer became the flat world of marshes, set here and there with cypress and bounded only by far horizons; and at last land and water disappeared behind the gathered curtains of the night. There was no sound from the waste except the wind among the withered reeds and the furrowing splash of wheel and hoof over the submerged causeway. The... more...