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PREFACE The idea of this tale was taken from The Mariners’ Chronicle, compiled by a person named Scott early in the last century—a curious book of narratives of maritime adventures, with exceedingly quaint illustrations. Nothing has ever shown me more plainly that truth is stranger than fiction, for all that is most improbable here is the actual fact. The Comte de Bourke was really an Irish...
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by:
Bertram Mitford
Prologue. We were talking about Rorke’s Drift and of Kambúla, in the battles fought at which places these two warriors had borne arms. They were fine, tall, martial-looking Zulus, and both head-ringed. They carried small shields, and a perfect arsenal of assegais—beautifully-made weapons for the most part. With none of these, however, could they be induced to part. “What should you white people...
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by:
John Richardson
CHAPTER I. It was on a beautiful day in the early part of the month of April, 1812, that four persons were met in a rude farm-house, situated on the Southern Branch of the Chicago river, and about four miles distant from the fort of that name. They had just risen from their humble mid-day meal, and three of them were now lingering near the fire-place, filled with blazing logs, which, at that early...
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CHAPTER I. "Look you, Who comes here: a young man, and an old, in solemn talk." As You Like it. It is easy to foresee that this country is destined to undergo great and rapid changes. Those that more properly belong to history, history will doubtless attempt to record, and probably with the questionable veracity and prejudice that are apt to influence the labours of that particular muse;...
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The sun came up over a glassy, motionless sea. In the life-boat, Craig arranged the piece of sail to protect them from the sun. He hoisted it to the top of the improvised mast, spreading it so that it threw a shadow on the boat. There was no wind. There had been no wind for three days. Craig stood up and swept his eyes around the circle of the sea. The horizon was unbroken. As he sat down he was aware...
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CHAPTER I INTRODUCTORY A short title to a book has its advantages. It has also its disadvantages. It is almost inevitable that it should, on the one hand, seem to include much more than is intended, and, on the other hand, fail to convey the purpose of the author. "Geology" would be a tolerably large subject. "Astronomy" would be vastly larger. But "Spiritualism" is an infinite...
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A Daughter of Eve. “Mother!” There was no reply, and once again rose from the bed in the prettily-furnished room the same word—“Mother!” The wild, appealing, anguished cry of offspring to parent, seeming to ask for help—protection—forgiveness—the tenderness of the mother-heart to its young, and still there was no answer. The speaker struggled up so that she rested on her elbow, the...
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CHAPTER I It was springtime in Kentucky, gay, irresponsible, Southern springtime, that comes bursting impetuously through highways and byways, heedless of possible frosts and impossible fruitions. A glamour of tender new green enveloped the world, and the air was sweet with the odor of young and growing things. The brown river, streaked with green where the fresher currents of the creeks poured in,...
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CHAPTER I. If you take the turn to the left, after you pass the lyke-gate at Combehurst Church, you will come to the wooden bridge over the brook; keep along the field-path which mounts higher and higher, and, in half a mile or so, you will be in a breezy upland field, almost large enough to be called a down, where sheep pasture on the short, fine, elastic turf. You look down on Combehurst and its...
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A very common failing amongst men is to adopt one extreme in the endeavor to avoid another, and sometimes not to perceive that the extreme into which they fall is greater than that which they had sought to flee from. To insure themselves against weak incredulity, some have imbibed such prejudice against the miracles in the Lives of the Saints, that they cannot endure to hear of them; the very ideas of...
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