The Canadian Writers on Arthur's Classic Novels

Arthur's Classic Novels: Complete Canadian Writers and Srories

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Grant Allen

Philistia by Grant Allen

Biographies of Working Men by Grant Allen

The Woman Who Did by Grant Allen

What's Bred In the Bone by Grant Allen

Side Lights by Grant Allen

Science in Arcady by Grant Allen

Recalled to Life by Grant Allen

Post-Prandial Philosophy by Grant Allen

Michael's Crag by Grant Allen

Hilda Wade by Grant Allen

The Great Taboo by Grant Allen

Early Britain by Grant Allen

The British Barbarians by Grant Allen

An African Millionaire by Grant Allen

R. M. Ballantyne

Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne
Now, while engaged in the coasting trade, I fell in with many seamen who had travelled to almost every quarter of the globe; and I freely confess that my heart glowed ardently within me as they recounted their wild adventures in foreign lands

Ungava A Tale Of Esquimau Land
The ringing tones died away, and nought was heard save the rustling of the leafy canopy overhead, as the young man, whose shout had thus rudely disturbed the surrounding echoes, leaned on the muzzle of a long rifle, and stood motionless as a statue, his right foot resting on the trunk of a fallen tree, and his head bent slightly to one side, as if listening for a reply.

The Dog Crusoe by R. M. Ballantyne
The Mustang Valley settlement advanced prosperously, despite one or two attacks made upon it by the savages, who were, however, firmly repelled. Dick Varley had now become a man, and his pup Crusoe had become a full-grown dog. The 'silver rifle', as Dick's weapon had come to be named, was well known among the hunters and the Redskins of the borderlands, and in Dick's hands its bullets were as deadly as its owner's eye was quick and true.

The Young Furtraders by R. M. Ballantyne
As Charley gave utterance to this unalterable resolution, he rose from the bit of blue ice, and taking Kate by the hand, led her over the frozen river, climbed up the bank on the opposite side -- an operation of some difficulty, owing to the snow, which had been drifted so deeply during a late storm that the usual track was almost obliterated -- and turning into a path that lost itself among the willows, they speedily disappeared.

Hudson's Bay Every-Day Life In The Wilds Of North America
The country, as I said before, is flat and swampy, and the only objects that rise very prominently above the rest, and catch the wandering eye, are a lofty "out-look" of wood, painted black, from which to look out for the arrival of the ship; and a flag-staff, from which on Sundays the snowy folds of St George's flag flutter in the breeze.

World of Ice
John Buzzby stood on the pier of the seaport town of Grayton watching the active operations of the crew of a whaling ship which was on the point of starting for the ice-bound seas of the frozen regions, and making sundry remarks to a stout, fair-haired boy of fifteen

Away in the Wilderness
The man wore the leathern coat and leggings of a North American hunter, or trapper, or backwoodsman; and well did he deserve all these titles, for Jasper Derry was known to his friends as the best hunter, the most successful trapper, and the boldest man in the backwoods.

My Doggie and I
My doggie is unquestionably the most charming, and, in every way, delightful doggie that ever was born. My sister has a baby, about which she raves in somewhat similar terms, but of course that is ridiculous

The Norsemen in the West
Having gained the top of the ridge they peeped over and beheld a hamlet nestled at the foot of a frowning cliff; and at the head of a smiling inlet.

Over the Rocky Mountains
When a youth returns to his native land, after a long absence which commenced with his running away to sea, he may perhaps experience some anxieties on nearing the old home

The Pioneers
men have been labouring with more or less energy and success to ascertain the form and character of the earth; a grand, glorious labour it has been; resulting in blessings innumerable to mankind

The Prairie Chief
The only ornament which he allowed himself was the white wing of a ptarmigan. Hence his name. This symbol of purity was bound to his forehead by a band of red cloth wrought with the quills of the porcupine.

The Red Eric
As the black straw hat made no reply, the captain looked up at the ceiling, but not meeting with any response from that quarter, he looked out at the window and encountered the gaze of a seaman flattening his nose on a pane of glass, and looking in.

Away in the Wilderness
Having gained the top of the hillock, Jasper placed the butt of his long gun on the ground, and, crossing his hands over the muzzle, stood there for some time so motionless

The Big Otter
This leading of the way through the trackless wilderness in snow averaging four feet deep is harder work than one might suppose. It could not be done at all without the aid of snow-shoes

John Buchan

The Thirty-Nine Steps
I returned from the City about three o'clock on that May afternoon pretty well disgusted with life. I had been three months in the Old Country, and was fed up with it. If anyone had told me a year ago that I would have been feeling like that I should have laughed at him; but there was the fact.

Greenmantle by John Buchan
I had just finished breakfast and was filling my pipe when I got Bullivant's telegram. It was at Furling, the big country house in Hampshire where I had come to convalesce after Loos, and Sandy, who was in the same case, was hunting for the marmalade. I flung him the flimsy with the blue strip pasted down on it, and he whistled.

Mr Standfast
I spent one-third of my journey looking out of the window of a first-class carriage, the next in a local motor-car following the course of a trout stream in a shallow valley, and the last tramping over a ridge of downland through great beech-woods to my quarters for the night. In the first part I was in an infamous temper; in the second I was worried and mystified; but the cool twilight of the third stage calmed and heartened me

The Moon Endureth  Tales and Fancies by John Buchan
...I came down from the mountain and into the pleasing valley of the Adige in as pelting a heat as ever mortal suffered under. The way underfoot was parched and white; I had newly come out of a wilderness of white limestone crags, and a sun of Italy blazed blindingly in an azure Italian sky.

Prester John by John Buchan
I mind as if it were yesterday my first sight of the man. Little I knew at the time how big the moment was with destiny, or how often that face seen in the fitful moonlight would haunt my sleep and disturb my waking hours.

The Three Hostages
That evening, I remember, as I came up through the Mill Meadow, I was feeling peculiarly happy and contented. It was still mid-March, one of those spring days when noon is like May, and only the cold pearly haze at sunset warns a man that he is not done with winter.

The Path of the King by John Buchan
As he grew older he was allowed to sit with the men in the hall, when bows were being stretched and bowstrings knotted and spear-hafts fitted. He would sit mum in a corner, listening with both ears to the talk of the old franklins, with their endless grumbles about lost cattle and ill neighbours.

The Power House
I had been the looker-on; now I was to become a person of the drama. That telegram was the beginning of my active part in this curious affair. They say that everybody turns up in time at the corner of Piccadilly Circus if you wait long enough. I was to find myself like a citizen of Baghdad in the days of the great Caliph, and yet never stir from my routine of flat, chambers, club, flat.

The Rime Of True Thomas by John Buchan
The whaup gave a whistle of scorn. "I have heard all that long ago. In my great-grandmother's time, which 'ill be a thousand years and mair syne, there came a people from the south with bright brass things on their heads and breasts, and terrible swords at their thighs. And with them were some lang-gowned men who kenned the stars and would come out nights to talk to the deer and the corbies in their ain tongue.

Witch Wood
David ranged around like a boy back from school, and indeed with his thick sandy hair and ruddy countenance and slim straight back he seemed scarcely to have outgrown the schoolboy.

Huntingtower by John Buchan
Her voice had a thrill in it like music, frosty music. "The days are far too short. I grudge the hours when I must sleep. They say it is sad for me to make my debut in a time of war.

The Island Of Sheep    by John Buchan
Lombard had come out to East Africa as secretary to a Government Commission, a Commission which he very soon manipulated as he pleased. I met him there when I was sent up on a prospecting job. He was very young then, not more than twenty-five, and he was in his first years at the Bar.

Space by John Buchan
There was a shimmer left from the day's heat, which invested bracken and rock and scree with a curious airy unreality. One could almost have believed that the eye had tricked the mind, that all was mirage, that five yards from the path the solid earth fell away into nothingness.

A Prince of the Captivity

The Blanket of the Dark

The Free Fishers    by John Buchan

Sick Heart River

The Gap in the Curtain

Castle Gay    by John Buchan

The Runagates Club

The House of Four Winds

Midwinter    by John Buchan

The Dancing Floor

Canada

Canada and the Canadians, Vol. 1

Canada and the Canadians, Vol. 2

Canada, the Empire of the North

An Excursion to Canada by Henry David Thoreau

Life in Canada Fifty Years Ago Canniff Haight

The Makers of Canada: Champlain N. E. Dionne

The Makers of Canada: Bishop Laval A. Leblond de Brumath

Mrs. Warren's Daughter by Sir Harry Johnston

Pioneers in Canada by Sir Harry Johnston

The Children of the New Forest by Captain Marryat

The Little Savage by Captain Marryat

The Settlers in Canada by Captain Marryat

Diary in America by Captain Marryat

Diary in America Vol. 2 by Captain Marryat

Twenty-Seven Years in Canada West Samuel Strickland

Voyage de J. Cartier au Canada Jacques Cartier

Emily Carr

The House of All Sorts by Emily Carr

The Book of Small by Emily Carr

Klee Wyck by Emily Carr

Joseph E. Collins

Annette, The Metis Spy by Joseph E. Collins

The Four Canadian Highwaymen by Joseph E. Collins

Ralph Connor

The Foreigner by Ralph Connor
By hundreds and tens of hundreds they stream in and through this hospitable city, Saxon and Celt and Slav, each eager on his own quest, each paying his toll to the new land as he comes and goes, for good or for ill, but whether more for good than for ill only God knows.

Glengarry Schooldays by Ralph Connor
an enchanted land, peopled, not by fairies, elves, and other shadowy beings of fancy, but with living things, squirrels, and chipmunks, and weasels, chattering ground-hogs, thumping rabbits, and stealthy foxes, not to speak of a host of flying things, from the little gray-bird that twittered its happy nonsense all day, to the big-eyed owl that hooted solemnly when the moon came out.

The Major by Ralph Connor
But the boy stood fascinated by the bird so gallantly facing his day. His mother's words awoke in him a strange feeling. "A brave heart and a bright song" -- so the knights in the brave days of old, according to his Stories of the Round Table,

The Prospector by Ralph Connor
She was determined to draw her unhappy visitor from his shell. But her most brilliant efforts were in vain. Poor Shock remained hopelessly engaged with his hands and feet, and replied at unexpected places, in explosive monosyllables at once ludicrous and disconcerting.

The Sky Pilot by Ralph Connor
There are valleys so wide that the farther side melts into the horizon, and uplands so vast as to suggest the unbroken prairie. Nearer the mountains the valleys dip deep and ever deeper till they narrow into canyons through which mountain torrents pour their blue-gray waters from glaciers that lie glistening between the white peaks far away.

The Sky Pilot In No Man's Land by Ralph Connor
High upon a rock, poised like a bird for flight, stark naked, his satin skin shining like gold and silver in the rising sun, stood a youth, tall, slim of body, not fully developed but with muscles promising, in their faultless, gently swelling outline, strength and suppleness to an unusual degree.

The Doctor by Ralph Connor
Two hours later, down from the dusty sideroad, a girl swinging a milk pail in her hand turned into the mill lane. As she stepped from the glare and dust of the highroad into the lane, it seemed as if Nature had been waiting to find in her the touch that makes perfect; so truly, in all her fresh daintiness, did she seem a bit of that green shady lane with its sweet fragrance and its fresh beauty.

To Him That Hath by Ralph Connor
"You, a Canadian, and our best player -- at least, you used to be -- to allow yourself to be beaten by a -- a -- " she glanced at his opponent with a defiant smile -- "a foreigner."

The Man From Glengarry by Ralph Connor
Dan Murphy was mightily pleased with himself and with the bit of the world about him, for there lay his winter's cut of logs in the river below him snug and secure and held tight by a boom across the mouth, just where it flowed into the Nation. In a few days he would have his crib made, and his outfit ready to start for the Ottawa mills.

Black Rock by Ralph Connor
Big Sandy M'Naughton, a Canadian Highlander from Glengarry, rose up in wrath. 'Bill Keefe,' said he, with deliberate emphasis, 'you'll just keep your dirty tongue off the minister; and as for your pay, it's little he sees of it, or any one else, except Mike Slavin, when you're too dry to wait for some one to treat you, or perhaps Father Ryan, when the fear of hell-fire is on to you.'

The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail by Ralph Connor

Michael McGrath, Postmaster by Ralph Connor

The Man From Glengarry : A Tale Of The Ottawa by Ralph Connor

Corporal Cameron by Ralph Connor

The Girl from Glengarry by Ralph Connor

James Oliver Curwood

Baree, Son of Kazan by James Oliver Curwood
We traveled together for many thousands of miles through the northland -- on trails to the Barren Lands, to Hudson's Bay and to the Arctic. Kazan -- the bad dog, the half-wolf, the killer

The Golden Snare by James Oliver Curwood
Bram Johnson was an unusual man, even for the northland. He was, above all other things, a creature of environment -- and necessity, and of that something else which made of him at times a man with a soul, and at others a brute with the heart of a devil.

Nomads Of The North A Story Of Romance And Adventure Under The Open Stars
It was late in the month of March, at the dying-out of the Eagle Moon, that Neewa the black bear cub got his first real look at the world. Noozak, his mother, was an old bear, and like an old person she was filled with rheumatics and the desire to sleep late.

God's Country -- And the Woman by James Oliver Curwood
At the top end of the world a man becomes a multiple being -- if he is white. Two years along the rim of the Arctic had taught Philip the science by which a man may become acquainted with himself, and in moments like the present, when both his mental and physical spirits overflowed, he even went so far as to attempt poor Radisson's "La Belle Marie" in the Frenchman's heavy basso, something between a dog's sullen growl and the low rumble of distant thunder.

Flower Of The North A Modern Romance
For a moment the two men stood in silence, listening to the sullen beat of surf beyond the black edge of forest. Then Philip led the way back into the cabin.

The Courage of Captain Plum by James Oliver Curwood
For it was a weird object, this spying head; its face dead-white against the dense green of the verdure, with shocks of long white hair hanging down on each side,

The Wolf Hunters by James Oliver Curwood
A huge white owl flitted out of this rim of blackness, then back again, and its first quavering hoot came softly, as though the mystic hour of silence had not yet passed for the night-folk.

The Alaskan by James Oliver Curwood
If it were day you could hear the birds singing. This is what we call the Inside Passage. I have always called it the water-wonderland of the world, and yet, if you will observe

The Grizzly King by James Oliver Curwood
The two grizzly cubs we dug out on the Athabasca are dead. And Thor still lives, for his range is in a country where no hunters go—and when at last the opportunity came we did not kill him.

The Danger Trail by James Oliver Curwood
He descended the ridge, walked rapidly over the hard crust of the snow across the Saskatchewan, and assured himself that he felt considerably easier when the lights of Prince Albert gleamed a few hundred yards ahead of him.

Kazan by James Oliver Curwood
It was a room filled with hideous things. There were great human faces on the wall, but they did not move or speak, but stared at him in a way he had never seen people look before.

The Flaming Forest by James Oliver Curwood
An hour ago, under the marvelous canopy of the blue northern sky, David Carrigan, Sergeant in His Most Excellent Majesty's Royal Northwest Mounted Police, had hummed softly to himself, and had thanked God that he was alive. He had blessed McVane, superintendent of "N" Division at Athabasca Landing, for detailing him to the mission on which he was bent.

The Valley Of Silent Men by James Oliver Curwood
there remained no shadow of a doubt. He knew that he was dying. He had implicit faith in Cardigan, his surgeon friend, and Cardigan had told him that what was left of his life would be measured out in hours -- perhaps in minutes or seconds. It was an unusual case. There was one chance in fifty that he might live two or three days

James De Mille

Lost in the Fog by James De Mille

A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder by James De Mille

The Living Link by James De Mille

The Lady of the Ice by James De Mille

The American Baron by James De Mille

Cord and Creese by James De Mille

Sara Jeannette Duncan

A Daughter of To-Day by Sara Jeannette Duncan

The Story of Sonny Sahib by Sara Jeannette Duncan

A Voyage of Consolation by Sara Jeannette Duncan

Hilda : A Story of Calcutta by Sara Jeannette Duncan

The Path of a Star by Sara Jeannette Duncan

The Pool in the Desert by Sara Jeannette Duncan

The Imperialist by Sara Jeannette Duncan

W.A. Fraser

The Gold Wolf by W.A. Fraser
All day in the saddle, riding a trail that winds in and out among rocks, and trees, and cliffs monotonously similar, the hush of the everlasting hills holding in subjection man's soul

The Outcasts by W.A. Fraser

Caste by W.A. Fraser

Owners Up by W.A. Fraser
You can't have any kind of sport with one individual, horse or man, and Clatawa had beaten everything so decisively that the gamblers sat down with blank faces and asked, "What's the use?"

Thoroughbreds by W.A. Fraser
By an inconsistent twist of fate he was known as Honest John. His father before him had raced in old Kentucky to considerable purpose, and with the full vigor of a man who races for sport; and so to the son John, in consequence

The Scoring of the Raja by W.A. Fraser
"Going to ham-string the Raja's horses?" Devlin asked. But Devlin had no head for deep plots, Woolson knew that; he was only a lieutenant who danced well.

The Remittance Man : A Tale Of A Prodigal by W.A. Fraser
Of course, George was consigned to some one—he and his ten thousand pounds that was to start him in cattle ranching; but that didn't matter—nothing matters in the West, for things must work out their own salvation there.

Bulldog Carney by W.A. Fraser
A lean-faced man, with small piercing gray eyes, had ridden his buckskin cayuse into the bar and was buying. Nagel's furtrading men, topping off their spree in town before the long trip to Great Slave Lake, were enthusiastically, vociferously naming their tipple. A freighter, Billy the Piper, was playing the "Arkansaw Traveller" on a tin whistle.

Bulldog Carney's Alibi by W.A. Fraser
It had ripped from the bowels of a mountain pebbles of gold, and the town of Bucking Horse was the home of men who had come at the call of the yellow god.

Frederick Philip Grove

Over Prairie Trails by Frederick Philip Grove

Settlers of the Marsh by Frederick Philip Grove

Our Daily Bread by Frederick Philip Grove

Fruits of the Earth by Frederick Philip Grove

The Master of The Mill by Frederick Philip Grove

Consider Her Ways by Frederick Philip Grove

E. Pauline Johnson

Legends of Vancouver by E. Pauline Johnson

Flint and Feather by E. Pauline Johnson

The Shagganappi by E. Pauline Johnson

The Moccasin Maker by E. Pauline Johnson

A Star Danced Gertrude Lawrence

Stephen Leacock

Short Circuits by Stephen Leacock

The Pursuit of Knowledge by Stephen Leacock

Winnowed Wisdom by Stephen Leacock

The Man in Asbestos by Stephen Leacock

My Remarkable Uncle and other Sketches by Stephen Leacock

Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town by Stephen Leacock

Arcadian Adventures With the Idle Rich by Stephen Leacock

Nonsense Novels by Stephen Leacock

My Discovery of England by Stephen Leacock

The Hohenzollerns in America by Stephen Leacock

Guido the Gimlet of Ghent by Stephen Leacock

Frenzied Fiction by Stephen Leacock

The Dawn of Canadian History by Stephen Leacock

Further Foolishness by Stephen Leacock

Literary Lapses by Stephen Leacock

Moonbeams From the Larger Lunacy by Stephen Leacock

The Mariner of St Malo: A Chronicle of the Voyages of Jacques Cartier by Stephen Leacock

The Unsolved Riddle of Social Justice by Stephen Leacock

The Dawn of Canadian History by Stephen Leacock

Chronicles Of Canada Vol. 2 by Stephen Leacock

The Jesuit Missions Chronicles Of Canada Vol. 4

The Seigneurs of Old Canada Chronicles Of Canada Vol. 5

The Great Intendant Chronicles Of Canada Vol. 6

The Fighting Governor Chronicles Of Canada Vol. 7

The Great Fortress Chronicles Of Canada Vol. 8

The Acadian Exiles Chronicles Of Canada Vol. 9

The Passing of New France Chronicles Of Canada Vol. 10

The Canadian Dominion a chronicle of our northern neighbor

Jack London

White Fang by Jack London

When God Laughs and Other Stories by Jack London

War of the Classes by Jack London

The Valley of the Moon by Jack London

The Turtles of Tasman by Jack London

Theft by Jack London

Smoke Bellew by Jack London

Love of Life by Jack London

Lost Face by Jack London

The God of His Fathers by Jack London

The Faith of Men by Jack London

A Daughter of the Snows by Jack London

Children of the Frost by Jack London

The Call of the Wild by Jack London

Burning Daylight by Jack London

Before Adam by Jack London

Nellie L. McClung

Sowing Seeds in Danny by Nellie L. McClung

The Black Creek Stopping-House by Nellie L. McClung

The Next of Kin by Nellie L. McClung

Three Times and Out by Nellie L. McClung

Purple Springs by Nellie L. McClung

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Anne of Green Gables
Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies' eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place;

Rainbow Valley by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Miss Cornelia was going up to Ingleside to see Dr. and Mrs. Blythe, who were just home from Europe. They had been away for three months, having left in February to attend a famous medical congress in London; and certain things, which Miss Cornelia was anxious to discuss, had taken place in the Glen during their absence. For one thing, there was a new family in the manse. And such a family! Miss Cornelia shook her head over them several times as she walked briskly along.

Rilla Of Ingleside
In the big living-room at Ingleside Susan Baker sat down with a certain grim satisfaction hovering about her like an aura; it was four o'clock and Susan, who had been working incessantly since six that morning, felt that she had fairly earned an hour of repose and gossip. Susan just then was perfectly happy; everything had gone almost uncannily well in the kitchen that day. Dr. Jekyll had not been Mr. Hyde and so had not grated on her nerves;

Anne Of The Island by Lucy Maud Montgomery
"Harvest is ended and summer is gone," quoted Anne Shirley, gazing across the shorn fields dreamily. She and Diana Barry had been picking apples in the Green Gables orchard, but were now resting from their labors in a sunny corner, where airy fleets of thistledown drifted by on the wings of a wind that was still summer-sweet with the incense of ferns in the Haunted Wood.

The Golden Road
It had been a day of wild November wind, closing down into a wet, eerie twilight. Outside, the wind was shrilling at the windows and around the eaves, and the rain was playing on the roof. The old willow at the gate was writhing in the storm and the orchard was a place of weird music, born of all the tears and fears that haunt the halls of night.

Further Chronicles Of Avonlea by Lucy Maud Montgomery
I never was fond of cats, although I admit they are well enough in their place, and I can worry along comfortably with a nice, matronly old tabby who can take care of herself and be of some use in the world. As for Ismay, she hates cats and always did.

Anne Of Avonlea
A tall, slim girl, "half-past sixteen," with serious gray eyes and hair which her friends called auburn, had sat down on the broad red sandstone doorstep of a Prince Edward Island farmhouse one ripe afternoon in August, firmly resolved to construe so many lines of Virgil.

Chronicles of Avonlea
Anne Shirley was curled up on the window-seat of Theodora Dix's sitting-room one Saturday evening, looking dreamily afar at some fair starland beyond the hills of sunset. Anne was visiting for a fortnight of her vacation at Echo Lodge, where Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Irving were spending the summer, and she often ran over to the old Dix homestead to chat for awhile with Theodora.

Anne's House of Dreams by Lucy Maud Montgomery
"Thanks be, I'm done with geometry, learning or teaching it," said Anne Shirley, a trifle vindictively, as she thumped a somewhat battered volume of Euclid into a big chest of books, banged the lid in triumph, and sat down upon it, looking at Diana Wright across the Green Gables garret, with gray eyes that were like a morning sky.

The Story Girl
The Story Girl said that once upon a time. Felix and I, on the May morning when we left Toronto for Prince Edward Island, had not then heard her say it, and, indeed, were but barely aware of the existence of such a person as the Story Girl. We did not know her at all under that name. We knew only that a cousin, Sara Stanley, whose mother, our Aunt Felicity, was dead, was living down on the Island with Uncle Roger and Aunt Olivia King, on a farm adjoining the old King homestead in Carlisle.

A Tangled Web by Lucy Maud Montgomery
It must be admitted frankly that Aunt Becky was not particularly beloved by her clan. She was too fond of telling them what she called the plain truth.

Pat of Silver Bush
"Oh, oh, and I think I'll soon have to be doing some rooting in the parsley bed," said Judy Plum, as she began to cut Winnie's red crepe dress into strips suitable for "hooking."

Mistress Pat A Novel of Silver Bush
Everybody at Silver Bush loved the birch grove, though to none of them did it mean what it meant to Pat. For her it LIVED. She not only knew the birches but they knew her

Jane of Lantern Hill
Uncle William Anderson's house in Forest Hill was very handsome, with landscaped lawns and rock gardens, but she wouldn't like to live there. One was almost terrified to walk over the lawn lest one do something to Uncle William's cherished velvet.

Emily of New Moon by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Emily didn't know she was being pitied and didn't know what lonesomeness meant. She had plenty of company. There was Father -- and Mike--and Saucy Sal.

The Blue Castle
She knew the ugliness of that room by heart--knew it and hated it. The yellow-painted floor, with one hideous, "hooked" rug by the bed, with a grotesque, "hooked" dog on it, always grinning at her when she awoke; the faded, dark-red paper

Anne of Windy Poplars by Lucy Maud Montgomery
"'The widows' came in. I liked them at once. Aunt Kate was tall and thin and gray, and a little austere . . . Marilla's type exactly: and Aunt Chatty was short and thin and gray, and a little wistful.

Anne of Ingleside
"As if I'd worry over THAT," said Diana reproachfully. "You know I'd far rather spend the evening with you than go to the reception. I feel I haven't seen half enough of you and now you're going back day after tomorrow. But Fred's brother, you know . . . we've just got to go."

Emily Climbs

Emily's Quest by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Magic for Marigold

Gilbert Parker

The Battle Of The Strong In all the world there is no coast like the coast of Jersey; so treacherous, so snarling; serrated with rocks seen and unseen, tortured by currents maliciously whimsical, encircled by tides that sweep up from the Antarctic world with the devouring force of a monstrous serpent projecting itself towards its prey.

Cumner's Son and Other South Sea Folk There was trouble at Mandakan. You could not have guessed it from anything the eye could see. In front of the Residency two soldiers marched up and down sleepily, mechanically, between two ten-pounders marking the limit of their patrol

Donovan Pasha There is a town on the Nile which Fielding Bey called Hasha, meaning "Heaven Forbid!" He loathed inspecting it. Going up the Nile, he would put off visiting it till he came down;

Mrs. Falchion The part I played in Mrs. Falchion's career was not very noble, but I shall set it forth plainly here, else I could not have the boldness to write of her faults or those of others.

The Judgment House The music throbbed in a voice of singular and delicate power; the air was resonant with melody, love and pain. The meanest Italian in the gallery far up beneath the ceiling, the most exalted of the land in the boxes and the stalls, leaned indulgently forward

The Lane That Had No Turning the English Governor of French Canada -- was come to Pontiac, accompanied by a goodly retinue; by private secretary, military secretary, aide-de-camp, cabinet minister, and all that. He was making a tour of the Province

Michel and Angle Angele had gone through many phases of alternate hope and despair. She knew that Montgomery the Camisard was dead, and a rumour, carried by refugees, reached her that De la Foret had been with him to the end.

Northern Lights It's got to be settled to-night, Nance. This game is up here, up for ever. The redcoat police from Ottawa are coming, and they'll soon be roostin' in this post

Pierre And His People from the window he was watching Sergeant Fones as he rode towards the Big Divide. Presently he said: "He's going towards Humphrey's place. I -- " He stopped, bent his brows, caught one corner of his slight moustache between his teeth, and did not stir a muscle until the Sergeant had passed over the Divide.

The Pomp of the Lavilettes You could not call the place a village, nor yet could it be called a town. Viewed from the bluff, on the English side of the river, it was a long stretch of small farmhouses

The Power And The Glory there is proof that I love the Jesuit for his piety, fearlessness, and faith. In all spiritual matters I am his perfect friend.

The Right of Way The judge looked up reprovingly at the gallery; the clerk of the court angrily called "Silence!" towards the offending corner, and seven or eight hundred eyes raced between three centres of interest -- the judge, the prisoner, and the prisoner's counsel.

Romany Of The Snows Quicksands I've seen along the sayshore, and up to me half-ways I've been in wan, wid a double-and-twist in the rope to pull me out; but a suckin' sand in the open plain -- aw

Translation of A Savage When Mrs. Frank Armour arrived at Montreal she still wore her Indian costume of clean, well-broidered buckskin, moccasins, and leggings, all surmounted by a blanket.

Seats Of The Mighty When Monsieur Doltaire entered the salon, and, dropping lazily into a chair beside Madame Duvarney and her daughter, drawled out, "England's Braddock -- fool and general -- has gone to heaven

The Trail of The Sword He attracted not a little attention, and he created as much astonishment when he came into the presence of the governor. He had been announced as an envoy from Quebec. "Some new insolence of the County Frontenac

The Trespasser Why Gaston Belward left the wholesome North to journey afar, Jacques Brillon asked often in the brawling streets of New York, and oftener in the fog of London as they made ready to ride to Ridley Court.

The Weavers The dead man had left instructions that his body should be buried in the Quaker graveyard, but Luke Claridge and the Elders prevented that -- he had no right to the privileges of a Friend

The March of The White Guard Jeff Hyde shook his head at the others with a pleased I-told-you-so expression; Cloud-in-the-Sky grunted his deep approval; and Late Carscallen smacked his lips in a satisfied manner

for more see Gutenberg Canada

Frank L. Packard

The Adventures of Jimmie Dale by Frank L. Packard

The Further Adventures of Jimmie Dale by Frank L. Packard

The Miracle Man by Frank L. Packard

The White Moll by Frank L. Packard

Robert Service

The Spell of the Yukon by Robert Service

The Trail of '98 : A Northland Romance by Robert Service

Rhymes of a Rolling Stone by Robert Service

Rhymes of a Red Cross Man by Robert Service

Ballads of a Cheechako by Robert Service

Ballads of a Bohemian by Robert Service

Various Canadaian Writers and Stories

The Cruise of the Shining Light by Norman Duncan

Doctor Luke of the Labrador by Norman Duncan

Wacousta : The Prophecy by John Richardson

Wacousta : The Prophecy vol. 2 by John Richardson

Wacousta : The Prophecy vol. 3 by John Richardson

The Canadian Brothers : The Prophecy Fulfilled by John Richardson

Hardscrabble: The Fall of Chicago: A Tale of Indian Warfare by John Richardson

The History of Emily Montague by Frances Brooke

In Divers Tones by Charles G. D. Roberts

The Raid From Beausejour; And How The Carter Boys Lifted The Mortgage by Charles G. D. Roberts

Earth's Enigmas : A Volume of Stories by Charles G. D. Roberts

Children of the Wild by Charles G. D. Roberts

The Cycle of the North by Alan Sullivan

The Forge in the Forest Charles G. D. Roberts

Jennie Baxter, Journalist by Robert Barr

Animal Sanctuaries in Labrador by William Wood

The Great Fortress by William Wood

Klondyke Nuggets by Joseph Ladue

The Passing of New France by William Wood

George Leatrim by Susanna Moodie
'One of the most terrible instances of dishonesty I ever knew,' said a lady friend to me, 'happened in my own family, or, I should say, in one of its relative branches. You were staying last summer at Westcliff; did you hear Dr. Leatrim preach?'

Life in the Clearings versus the Bush by Susanna Moodie
But while I have endeavoured to point out the error of gentlemen bringing delicate women and helpless children to toil in the woods, and by so doing excluding them from all social intercourse with persons in their own rank, and depriving the younger branches of the family of the advantages of education,

The Monctons: A Novel by Susanna Moodie

Mark Hurdlestone : The Two Brothers by Susanna Moodie

Roughing It in the Bush Vol I by Susanna Moodie
As the sun rose above the horizon, all these matter-of-fact circumstances were gradually forgotten, and merged in the surpassing grandeur of the scene that rose majestically before me.

Roughing It in the Bush Vol II by Susanna Moodie
It was a bright frosty morning when I bade adieu to the farm, the birthplace of my little Agnes, who, nestled beneath my cloak, was sweetly sleeping on my knee, unconscious of the long journey before us into the wilderness.

Through the Mackenzie Basin by Charles Mair
Mr. Laird, with his staff, left Winnipeg for Edmonton by the Canadian Pacific express on the 22nd of May, two of the Commissioners having preceded him to that point. The train was crowded, as usual, with immigrants, tourists, globe-trotters and way-passengers. Parties for the Klondike, for California or Japan—once the far East, but now the far West to us—for anywhere and everywhere, a C.P.R. express train carrying the same variety of fortunates and unfortunates as the ocean-cleaving hull. Calgary was reached at one a.m. on the Queen's birthday, and the same morning we left for Edmonton by the C. & E. Railway.

A Treatise on the Six-Nation Indians by James Bovell Mackenzie
As knowledge of the traditions, manners, and national traits of the Indians, composing, originally, the six distinct and independent tribes of the Mohawks, Tuscaroras, Onondagas, Senecas, Oneidas, and Cayugas; tribes now merged in, and known as, the Six Nations, possibly, does not extend beyond the immediate district in which they have effected a lodgment, I have laid upon myself the task of tracing their history from the date of their settlement in the County of Brant, entering, at the same time

The Rising of the Red Man by John Mackie
"But O, my people, tell me, how can I make manifest to you that these things shall be as I say? Shall I beg of the Manitou, the Great Spirit, to give to you a sign that He approves of the words his servant speaketh, and that these things shall come to pass?"

The New North by Agnes Deans Cameron
Shakespeare makes his man say, "I will run as far as God has any ground," and that is our ambition. We are to travel north and keep on going till we strike the Arctic

The Lure of the North by Harold Bindloss
Dinner was nearly over at the big red hotel that stands high above the city of Quebec, and Thirlwell, sitting at one of the tables, abstractedly glanced about. The spacious room was filled with skilfully tempered light that glimmered on colored glasses and sparkled on silver; pillars and cornices were decorated with artistic taste.

Lister's Great Adventure by Harold Bindloss
Natural beauty had not much charm for Cartwright, who was satisfied to loaf and enjoy the cool of the evening. He had, as usual, dined well, his cigar was good, and he meant to give Mrs. Cartwright half an hour.

Lost in the Backwoods by Catherine Parr Traill
There lies, between the Rice Lake and the Ontario, a deep and fertile valley, surrounded by lofty wood-crowned hills, clothed chiefly with groves of oak and pine, the sides of the hills and the alluvial bottoms display a variety of noble timber trees of various kinds, as the useful and beautiful maple, beech, and hemlock. This beautiful and highly picturesque valley is watered by many clear streams, whence it derives its appropriate appellation of "Cold Springs."

Sketches And Tales Illustrative Of Life In The Backwoods Of New Brunswick by Mrs. F. Beavan
On the margin of a bright blue western stream stood a small fort, surrounding the dwellings of some hunters who had penetrated thus far into the vast wilderness to pursue their calling. The huts they raised were rude and lowly, and yet the walls surrounding them were high and lofty. Piles of arms filled their block house, and a constant guard was kept.

Klondyke Nuggets by Joseph Ladue
There is a great popular error in reference to the climate of the gold regions. Many reports have appeared in the newspapers which are misleading. It has been even stated that the cold is excessive almost throughout the year. This is entirely a mis-statement.

The Acadian Exiles by Arthur G. Doughty
Almost from the first England had advanced claims, slender though they were, to the ownership of Acadia. And very early, as we have seen, the colony had been subjected to the scourge of English attacks.

An Algonquin Maiden by G. Mercer Adam and A. Ethelwyn Wetherald
The breakfast-room of Pine Towers, on a bright, sunny morning, some three or four days after the death of its much-respected mistress, held a large concourse of the notables of York, and other private and official gentry of the Province.

The Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses By Robert W. Service

Our Daily Bread by Frederick P. Grove
Yet he watched all the time; and perhaps he knew more about them than they thought. He was, for instance, aware of the fact that, economically, they were going downhill--"on the wrong side of the hill," as he expressed it.

A Search for America by Frederick P. Grove
About a year after my mother's death I went on a "tour of the continent", planned to take me several years. The ostensible reason was that I intended to pursue and to complete my studies at various famous universities

Settlers of the Marsh by Frederick P. Grove
Niels carried his suitcase on his back; Nelson, his new friend's bundle, which also held the few belongings of his own which he had along. He wore practically the same clothes winter and summer.

Over Prairie Trails by Frederick P. Grove
I procured a buggy and horse and went "home" on Fridays, after school was over, to return to my town on Sunday evening--covering thus, while the season was clement and allowed straight cross-country driving, coming and going, a distance of sixty-eight miles.

Fruits of the Earth by Frederick P. Grove

The Backwoods of Canada by Catharine Parr Traill

Canadian Crusoes by Catharine Parr Traill

Lady Mary and her Nurse by Catharine Parr Traill

In The Forest by Catharine Parr Traill

Lost in the Backwoods by Catharine Parr Traill

Under The Northern Lights by Alan Sullivan

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