General Books

CHAPTER I.I was a traveler, then, upon the moor, I saw the hare that raced about with joy,I heard the woods and distant waters roar, Or heard them not, as happy as a boy; The pleasant season did my heart employ.My old remembrances went from me wholly,And all the ways of men so vain and melancholy.Wordsworth.Gentle Reader: Wherever you may be, in bodily presence, when you cast your eyes on this... more...

CHAPTER I.Say, who art thou—thou lean and haggard wretch!Thou living satire on the name of man!Thou that hast made a god of sordid gold,And to thine idol offered up thy soul?Oh, how I pity thee thy wasted years:Age without comfort—youth that had no prime.To thy dull gaze the earth was never green;The face of nature wore no cheering smile,For ever groping, groping in the dark;Making the soulless... more...

Part 1 One Wednesday afternoon in late September, Ann Veronica Stanley came down from London in a state of solemn excitement and quite resolved to have things out with her father that very evening. She had trembled on the verge of such a resolution before, but this time quite definitely she made it. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. She made up her mind in the... more...

I was expatriated by a man with an axe. The man and the axe were alike visionary and unreal, though it needed a very considerable effort of the will to hold them at mental arm's length. I had work on hand which imperatively demanded to be finished, and I was so broken down by a long course of labour that it was a matter of actual difficulty with me when I sat down at my desk of a morning to lay... more...

CHAPTER I Many patterns of carpet lay rolled out before them on the floor—two of Brussels showed the beginning of their quest, and its ending in that direction; while a score of ingrains lured their eyes and prolonged the debate between desire pocket-book.  The head of the department did them the honor of waiting upon them himself—or did Joe the honor, as she well knew, for she had noted the... more...

CHAPTER I. THE CITY OF WYTHBURN. Tar-ry woo', tar-ry woo',Tar-ry woo' is ill to spin:Card it weel, card it weel,Card it weel ere you begin.Old Ballad. The city of Wythburn stood in a narrow valley at the foot of Lauvellen, and at the head of Bracken Water. It was a little but populous village, inhabited chiefly by sheep farmers, whose flocks grazed on the neighboring hills. It contained... more...

THE OCTOBER LAND I sat on the ground with my youthful legs tucked under me, and the bridle rein of El Mahdi over my arm, while I hammered a copper rivet into my broken stirrup strap. A little farther down the ridge Jud was idly swinging his great driving whip in long, snaky coils, flicking now a dry branch, and now a red autumn leaf from the clay road. The slim buckskin lash would dart out hissing,... more...

My going to Valencia was entirely an accident. But the more often I stated that fact, the more satisfied was everyone at the capital that I had come on some secret mission. Even the venerable politician who acted as our minister, the night of my arrival, after dinner, said confidentially, "Now, Mr. Crosby, between ourselves, what's the game?" "What's what game?" I asked.... more...

THE first thing which attracted my attention to the man was the shock of white hair above the lean young face. But for this, I should not have looked twice at him: long, spare, and stooping, a shabby figure, he crouched over a cup of coffee in a corner of the dingy restaurant, at fretful enmity with the world; typical, I should have said, of the furtive London nondescript. But that white hair startled... more...

CHAPTER I. CALDERWELL DOES SOME TALKING Calderwell had met Mr. M. J. Arkwright in London through a common friend; since then they had tramped half over Europe together in a comradeship that was as delightful as it was unusual. As Calderwell put it in a letter to his sister, Belle: "We smoke the same cigar and drink the same tea (he's just as much of an old woman on that subject as I am!), and... more...