Psychological Books

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LETTER I MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE YARMOUTH, ISLE OF WIGHT, MONDAY, AUG. 7. MY DEAREST CREATURE, I can write but just now a few lines. I cannot tell how to bear the sound of that Mr. Belford for your executor, cogent as your reasons for that measure are: and yet I am firmly of opinion, that none of your relations should be named for the trust. But I dwell the less on this subject, as I hope... more...

CHAPTER I Among the many fatalities attending the bloom of young desire, that of blindly taking to the confectionery line has not, perhaps, been sufficiently considered.  How is the son of a British yeoman, who has been fed principally on salt pork and yeast dumplings, to know that there is satiety for the human stomach even in a paradise of glass jars full of sugared almonds and pink lozenges, and... more...

CHAPTER I Late one brilliant April afternoon Professor Lucius Wilson stood at the head of Chestnut Street, looking about him with the pleased air of a man of taste who does not very often get to Boston. He had lived there as a student, but for twenty years and more, since he had been Professor of Philosophy in a Western university, he had seldom come East except to take a steamer for some foreign port.... more...

by: Llewellyn
Snow in summer is of course impossible. Any weather expert will tell you so. Weather Bureau Chief Botts was certain no such absurdity could occur. And he would have been right except for one thing. It snowed that summer. It was, as the expression goes, raining cats and dogs. Since the Weather Bureau had predicted fair and warmer, the Weather Bureau was not particularly happy about the meteorological... more...

I CARLSBAD, October 4, 189-. Dear Pierrepont: I'm sorry you ask so many questions that you haven't a right to ask, because you put yourself in the position of the inquisitive bull-pup who started out to smell the third rail on the trolley right-of-way—you're going to be full of information in a minute. In the first place, it looks as if business might be pretty good this fall, and... more...

CHAPTER I THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR What’s behind this wall? As I write, here in my surgeon’s study, I ask myself that question. What’s behind it? My neighbors? Then what do I know—really know—of them? After all, this wall which rises beyond my desk, the wall against which my glass case of instruments rests, symbolizes the boundary of knowledge—seemingly an opaque barrier. I am called a man of... more...

LETTERS OF VOLUME III LETTER I. Miss Howe to Clarissa.—Is astonished, confounded, aghast. Repeats her advice to marry Lovelace. LETTER II. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—Gives a particular account of her meeting Lovelace; of her vehement contention with him; and, at last, of her being terrified out of her predetermined resolution, and tricked away. Her grief and compunction of heart upon it. Lays all to... more...

CHAPTER I "And could another child-world be my share,I'd be a Little Sister there." "Have I got a Little Sister anywhere in this house?" inquired Laddie at the door, in his most coaxing voice. "Yes sir," I answered, dropping the trousers I was making for Hezekiah, my pet bluejay, and running as fast as I could. There was no telling what minute May might take it into her... more...

The Persons of the Story: FLORIAN AMIDON, a respectable young banker of literary and artistic tastes. EUGENE BRASSFIELD, for a description of whose peculiarities the reader is referred to the text. ELIZABETH WALDRON, a young woman just out of school. JUDGE BLODGETT, an elderly lawyer. MADAME LE CLAIRE, a professional occultist. PROFESSOR BLATHERWICK, her father, a German scientist. DAISY SCARLETT, a... more...

THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE It appears from tradition, as well as some parish registers still extant, that the lands of Dalcastle (or Dalchastel, as it is often spelled) were possessed by a family of the name of Colwan, about one hundred and fifty years ago, and for at least a century previous to that period. That family was supposed to have been a branch of the ancient family of Colquhoun, and it is... more...