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Category： Author：novel
A very tall girl came quietly into the room, bowed an acknowledgment of her mother's introduction, and sat down on the edge of the sofa. She was a dignified girl from the crown of her head to her finger-tips, and Mrs. Bertram, who had been listening languidly to the mother, favored the newcomer with a bright, quick, inquisitive s...
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Category： Author：novel
So many different kinds of stories as I have told you! My goodness me, sakes alive, and some molasses popcorn! I should think you would get tired of them.
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Category： Author：novel
A posthumous story of immense power, written by a master of weird fiction—a tale of a revolting horror in the cellar of an old house in New England
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Category： Author：novel
It was an intensely hot July day—not a cloud appeared in the high blue vault of the sky; the trees, the flowers, the grasses, were all motionless, for not even the gentlest zephyr of a breeze was abroad; the whole world seemed lapped in a sort of drowsy, hot, languorous slumber. Even the flowers bowed their heads a little weariedly, an...
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Category： Author：novel
Lad stood looking out of the dormer window in a scantily furnished attic in the high-pitched roof of a house in Holborn, in September 1664. Numbers of persons were traversing the street below, many of them going out through the bars, fifty yards away, into the fields beyond, where some sports were being held that morning, while c...
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Category： Author：novel
HALF a dozen boys were gathered in one of the studies at Shrewsbury. A packed portmanteau and the general state of litter on the floor was sufficient to show that it was the last day of term.
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Category： Author：novel
A limitless expanse of opal sea, calm and unruffled, reflecting the crimson and gold of the sky, as the sun went down behind pine woods and moors. A clear-cut line of cliffs, rising sheer from the stretch of golden sands.
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Category： Author：novel
\"This is the third time I\'ve found you poring over that old rhyme. What is the charm, Richard? Not its poetry I fancy.\" And the young wife laid a slender hand on the yellow, time-worn page where, in Old English text, appeared the lines she laughed at.
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Category： Author：novel
A one-eyed man with a stuffed crocodile upon his head paused before the steps of Cairo\'s gayest hotel and his expectant gaze ranged hopefully over the thronged verandas. It was afternoon tea time; the band was playing and the crowd was at its thickest and brightest. The little tables were surrounded by travelers of all nations, some i...
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Category： Author：novel
In the following Letters I have endeavoured to exhibit in their true light the singular natural phenomena of which old superstition and modern charlatanism in turn availed themselves—to indicate their laws, and to develop their theory. The subject is so important that I might well have approached it in a severer guise. But, slight as t...
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