THE GUESTS OF HERCULES Long shadows of late afternoon lay straight and thin across the garden path; shadows of beech trees that ranged themselves in an undeviating line, like an inner wall within the convent wall of brick; and the soaring trees were very old, as old perhaps as the convent itself, whose stone had the same soft tints of faded red and brown as the autumn leaves which sparsely jewelled the... more...

INTRODUCTION This is the only American edition of my books produced with my sanction, and I have special reasons for thanking Messrs. Scribner for its publication; they let it be seen, by this edition, what are my books, for I know not how many volumes purporting to be by me, are in circulation in America which are no books of mine. I have seen several of these, bearing such titles as "Two of... more...

"Yes, we'll all feel gay when Johnnie comes marching home again," he finished, with a musing chuckle. "Did you, Grandpa?" the boy asked. "Did I what?" "Did you all feel gay when the army got home?" "It didn't get home all at once, precisely," the grandfather explained. "When the war was over I suppose we felt relieved, more than anything else."... more...

CHAPTER I In the year 1850 or thereabouts religious and charitable society in England was seized with a desire to convert Irish Roman Catholics to the Protestant faith. It is clear to everyone with any experience of missionary societies that, the more remote the field of actual work, the easier it is to keep alive the interest of subscribers. The mission to Roman Catholics, therefore, commenced in that... more...

CHAPTER I. AN ADVERTISEMENT. On Saturday, the 18th day of June, 1859, the "State Banner and Delphian Oracle," published weekly at Oxbow Village, one of the principal centres in a thriving river-town of New England, contained an advertisement which involved the story of a young life, and stained the emotions of a small community. Such faces of dismay, such shaking of heads, such gatherings at... more...

CHAPTER I ELOQUENT "Father, what d'you think we'd better call him?" Mrs Gallup asked, when the baby was a week old; "have you thought of a name?" "I've fixed on a name," her husband replied, triumphantly. "The child shall be called Eloquent." "Eloquent," Mrs Gallup repeated, dubiously. "That's a queer name, isn't it? 'Tisn't... more...

Chapter One. “You’re another.” “So are you.” “I am, am I?” “Yes; a cocky overbearing bully. You want your comb cut, Gil Vincent.” “Cut it, then, you miserable humbug. Take that.” Crack—thud! My fist went home on Morton’s cheek, and almost simultaneously his flew out and struck me in the ribs. Crack—thud! Morton’s return sounding like an echo of my blow. There was a buzz of... more...

The Diver’s Rock. Boom! with a noise like thunder. Plash! directly after; but the sounds those two words express, multiplied and squared if you like, till the effect upon the senses is, on the first hearing, one of dread mingled with awe at the mightiness of the power of the sea. For this is not “how the waters come down at Lodore,” but how they come in at Carn Du, a little fishing town on the... more...

CHAPTER I. DON JOHN OF BELFAST, AND FRIENDS. "Why, Don John, how you frightened me!" exclaimed Miss Nellie Patterdale, as she sprang up from her reclining position in a lolling-chair. It was an intensely warm day near the close of June, and the young lady had chosen the coolest and shadiest place she could find on the piazza of her father's elegant mansion in Belfast. She was as pretty as... more...

Toadstools! “Oh, I say, here’s a game! What’s he up to now?” “Hi! Vane! Old weathercock! Hold hard!” “Do you hear? Which way does the wind blow?” Three salutations shouted at a lad of about sixteen, who had just shown himself at the edge of a wood on the sunny slope of the Southwolds, one glorious September morning, when the spider-webs were still glittering with iridescent colours, as... more...