Cate： Short Stories Author：novel
It was in my own home, the German Embassy in London, where the atmosphere was entirely political, that I learned my first steps in politics. My father did not belong to that class of diplomats, so prevalent to-day, who treat politics as an occupation to be pursued only in their spare time. His whole life was consecrated to the cause of...
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Cate： Short Stories Author：novel
The bus drove up to the gate and stopped under the electric street-light. Perched on the box by the big, black negro driver sat a little boy whose slender figure was swathed in a huge rain coat.
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Cate： Short Stories Author：novel
The Board of Lady Managers of the World’s Columbian Commission, having been created and authorized by the concurrent action of Congress and the Columbian Commission, to take entire charge of the interests of women at the coming Exposition, desires to develop to the fullest extent the grand possibilities which have been placed within it...
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Cate： Short Stories Author：novel
Old Goody Parsons, with her cleanest white kerchief, her most sorrowful expression of face and her biggest brown basket, had gone down through the village and across the hill to tell Master Simon what a long, hard winter it had been and how her cupboard was as bare, indeed, as Mother Hubbard’s own. Now, as she made her way up the stony...
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Cate： Short Stories Author：novel
Leon Gautier, in opening his history of the epic poetry of France, ascribes the primitive poetic utterance of mankind to a religious impulse. “Represent to yourselves,” he says, “the first man at the moment when he issues from the hand of God, when his vision rests for the first time upon his new empire.
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Cate： Short Stories Author：novel
“Then you don’t care for the place yourself, Tyrrel?” Eustace Le Neve said, musingly, as he gazed in front of him with a comprehensive glance at the long gray moor and the wide expanse of black and stormy water.
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Cate： Short Stories Author：novel
On the day when I found myself with twopence in my pocket, I naturally made up my mind to go round the world.
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Cate： Short Stories Author：novel
We sat late on the verandah last night, listening to the low trilling croon of the night-jar. It was a balmy evening, one of the few this summer; the sunset was lingering over the heather-clad moors, and the lonely bird sat perched on one bough of the wind-swept pine-tree by Martin’s Corner, calling pathetically to his mate with that d...
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Cate： Short Stories Author：novel
ON a summer’s morning, between thirty and forty years ago, two girls were crying bitterly in the cabin of an East Indian passenger ship, bound outward, from Gravesend to Bombay.
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Cate： Short Stories Author：novel
We hear a great deal of lamentation now-a-days, proceeding mostly from elderly people, on the decline of the Art of Conversation among us. Old ladies and gentlemen with vivid recollections of the charms of society fifty years ago, are constantly asking each other why the great talkers of their youthful days have found no successors in ...
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