Historical Reprints
Fiction
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The stag of Texas, reclining in midnight lair, is startled from his slumbers by the hoofstroke of a horse. He does not forsake his covert, nor yet rise to his feet. His domain is shared by the wild steeds of the savannah, given to nocturnal straying. He only uprears his head; and, with antlers o'ertopping the tall grass, listens for a repetition of the sound.
Away to her left lay the yellow flood of the Rio Grande, but the woman, though tempted to swing in that direction, knew better than to yield. At least twenty miles of barrens lay between, and she told herself that she could never cover such a distance. No, the water-hole was nearer; it must be close at hand.
It was my privilege, many years ago, to make the acquaintance of the obscure literary hermit, whose talk I have tried to reproduce in the pages that follow.
This is written from memory, unfortunately. If I could have brought with me the material I so carefully prepared, this would be a very different story. Whole books full of notes, carefully copied records, firsthand descriptions, and the pictures-that's the worst loss.
The world's most famous detective in large easy to read print!
The world's most famous detective in large easy to read print!
It was somewhere, I think, towards the autumn of the year 1889 that the thought occurred to me that I might perhaps try to write a little in the modern way. For, hitherto, I had been, as it were, wearing costume in literature.
It was somewhere, I think, towards the autumn of the year 1889 that the thought occurred to me that I might perhaps try to write a little in the modern way. For, hitherto, I had been, as it were, wearing costume in literature.
Of the simple, stiffly given account of weird and extraordinary matters, I will say little. It lies before you. The inner story must be uncovered, personally, by each reader, according to ability and desire. And even should any fail to see, as now I see, the shadowed picture and conception of that to which one may well give the accepted titles of Heaven and Hell; yet can I promise certain thrills, merely taking the story as a story.
From the ever elusive and mystical Richard Shaver, we bring two of his stories in one volume. One never knows whether his stories are that of a madman or of a person specially selected by universal powers to relate other worldly messages to planet Earth. What to most of us appear to be science fiction writings, Shaver claims are very very real. Of course the world thought that Jules Vernes was merely a fiction writer, and it turned that his writings were prophetic.
An Occult Story from the Rosicrucians - The Rosicrucians remain the most mysterious of all the arcane secret societies. This is an occult story by them during World War 1.
This facsimile reprint of this Rosicrucian novel is set in a large 14 point font for easier reading. ---- Table of Contents; Chapter I; A Visit to the Invisible Planes Chapter II; A Sergeant's Experience after "Passing Out" Chapter III; A Soul Flight Chapter IV; Back to Earth-A Pretty Nurse Chapter V; The Elder Brother in the Flesh Chapter VI; A Doughboy's Ideas on Religion Chapter VII; Helping a Slain Soldier to Comfort his Mother Chapter VIII; A Study of Auras Chapter IX; An Experience with Nature Spirits Chapter X; A Crisis in Love Chapter XI; Light Again
Written in fictional short stories, the author take a comtemplative, satirical look at milleneum paranoia by sects and religions forecasting doom and gloom.
In introducing M. Barbusse's most important book to a public already familiar with "Under Fire," it seems well to point out the relation of the author's philosophy to his own time, and the kinship of his art to that of certain other contemporary French and English novelists.
The stranger came early in February one wintry day, through a biting wind and a driving snow, the last snowfall of the year, over the down, walking as it seemed from Bramblehurst railway station and carrying a little black portmanteau in his thickly gloved hand. He was wrapped up from head to foot, and the brim of his soft felt hat hid every inch of his face but the shiny tip of his nose; the snow had piled itself against his shoulders and chest, and added a white crest to the burden he carried.