Hard on twenty years have gone by since that night of Leo's vision-the most awful years, perhaps, which were ever endured by men-twenty years of search and hardship ending in soul-shaking wonder and amazement. My death is very near to me, and of this
Hard on twenty years have gone by since that night of Leo's vision-the most awful years, perhaps, which were ever endured by men-twenty years of searc...
The day had been very hot even for the Transvaal, where the days still know how to be hot in the autumn, although the neck of the summer is broken-especially when the thunder-storms hold off for a week or two, as they do occasionally. Even the succulent b
The day had been very hot even for the Transvaal, where the days still know how to be hot in the autumn, although the neck of the summer is broken-esp...
There are things and there are faces which, when felt or seen for the first time, stamp themselves upon the mind like a sun image on a sensitized plate and there remain unalterably fixed. To take the instance of a face-we may never see it again, or it may become the companion of our life, but there the picture is just as we first knew it, the same smile or frown, the same look, unvarying and unvariable, reminding us in the midst of change of the indestructible nature of every experience, act, and aspect of our days. For that which has been, is, since the past knows no corruption, but lives...
There are things and there are faces which, when felt or seen for the first time, stamp themselves upon the mind like a sun image on a sensitized plat...
Although in my old age I, Allan Quatermain, have taken to writing-after a fashion-never yet have I set down a single word of the tale of my first love and of the adventures that are grouped around her beautiful and tragic history. I suppose this is because it has always seemed to me too holy and far-off a matter-as holy and far-off as is that heaven which holds the splendid spirit of Marie Marais. But now, in my age, that which was far-off draws near again; and at night, in the depths between the stars, sometimes I seem to see the opening doors through which I must pass, and leaning...
Although in my old age I, Allan Quatermain, have taken to writing-after a fashion-never yet have I set down a single word of the tale of my first love...
The January afternoon was passing into night, the air was cold and still, so still that not a single twig of the naked beech-trees stirred; on the grass of the meadows lay a thin white rime, half frost, half snow; the firs stood out blackly against a steel-hued sky, and over the tallest of them hung a single star. Past these bordering firs there ran a road, on which, in this evening of the opening of our story, a young man stood irresolute, glancing now to the right and now to the left. To his right were two stately gates of iron fantastically wrought, supported by stone pillars on whose...
The January afternoon was passing into night, the air was cold and still, so still that not a single twig of the naked beech-trees stirred; on the gra...
