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Category： Author：Joseph A. Altsheler
The three, the white youth, the red youth, and the white man, lay deep in the forest, watching the fire that burned on a low hill to the west, where black figures flitted now and then before the flame. They did not stir or speak for a long time, because a great horror was upon them. They had seen an army destroyed a few days befo...
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Category： Author：Joseph A. Altsheler
The three, the white youth, the red youth, and the white man, lay deep in the forest, watching the fire that burned on a low hill to the west, where black figures flitted now and then before the flame. They did not stir or speak for a long time, because a great horror was upon them. They had seen an army destroyed a few days befo...
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Category： Author：novel
The scene was deep in the forests of Ohio, a short distance from the Miami river. An Indian town of twenty-five or thirty lodges here stood, resembling a giant apiary, with its inhabitants flitting in and out, darting hither and thither, like so many bees. The time was early in the morning of a radiant spring, when the atmosphere was s...
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Category： Author：novel
It was a muggy night in Dover—not an unusual thing in Dover—but nevertheless the wind had an extra whip in it and was lashing the outside Channel into a state of wild waves. An acetylene flare revealed several muffled figures flitting here and there on the harbor brink. There was a glint from polished surface, a flash...
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Category： Author：novel
Here in the garden, close to the quiet house, I sit thinking of that strange meeting in the village. A blackbird at regular intervals sings the same refrain, which is taken up by others in the distance. The lily\'s chalice gleams under the blazing sun; and the humbler flowers meekly droop their heads. White butterflies are everywhere, ...
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Category： Author：novel
The night of summer comes late in this north land. Although it was nearly nine o’clock, the shadows, long gathering in the valleys and the woods, had but just now overflowed onto the broad levels of the river. Above was hurry of low-lying clouds, through which swift star-gleams seemed to flit, like the momentary beacons of the rare fir...
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Category： Author：Charles Dudley Warner
It was near midnight: The company gathered in a famous city studio were under the impression, diligently diffused in the world, that the end of the century is a time of license if not of decadence. The situation had its own piquancy, partly in the surprise of some of those assembled at finding themselves in bohemia, partly in a flutter...
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