Books of F. Marian Crawford : Arthur's Classic Novels

Books of F. Marian Crawford

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An American Politician by F. Marion Crawford
"Mrs. Wyndham," began Vancouver again after a pause, "I have an idea -- do not laugh, it is a very good one, I am sure."

Claudius by F. Marion Crawford
"Yes, I am certainly very old," he said again, rapping absently on the arm of the chair with the pen he held. But the fingers that held the instrument were neither thin nor withered, and there was no trembling in the careless motion of the hand.

The Little City Of Hope by F. Marion Crawford
Such was the position when John Henry sat down upon the lid of Pandora's box in a sunny corner of the Central Park and reflected on Mr. Burnside's remark that "there was plenty of hope about."

Whosoever Shall Offend by F. Marion Crawford
it was much pleasanter to drown in the end than never to have had the chance of swimming in the big stream at all, and bumping sides with the really big fish, and feeling oneself as good as any of them.

Don Orsino by F. Marion Crawford
But there have been other and greater deaths, beside which the mortality of a whole society of noblemen sinks into insignificance. An empire is dead and another has arisen in the din of a vast war, begotten in bloodshed

A Roman Singer by F. Marion Crawford
He was an ugly little boy, with a hat of no particular shape and a dirty face. He had great black eyes, with ink-saucers under them, calamai, as we say, just as he has now. Only the eyes are bigger now, and the circles deeper.

By the Waters of Paradise by F. Marion Crawford
"It's the Woman of the Water," she used to say; and sometimes she would threaten that if I did not go to sleep the Woman of the Water would steal up to the high window and carry me away in her wet arms.

The Children of the King by F. Marion Crawford
Sail straight across the wide gulf of Salerno, and when you are over give the Licosa Point a wide berth, for the water is shallow and there are reefs along shore.

Saracinesca by F. Marion Crawford
But my business is with Rome, and not with Europe at large. I intend to tell the story of certain persons, of their good and bad fortune, their adventures, and the complications in which they found themselves placed during a period of about twenty years.

A Tale of a Lonely Parish by F. Marion Crawford
The weather was warm and sultry, the trees were all in full leaf and Cambridge was deserted. Only a few hard-reading men, who stayed up during the Long, wandered out with books at the backs of the colleges or strayed slowly through the empty courts, objects of considerable interest to the youths who had come up for the entrance examination

Taquisara by F. Marion Crawford
"I thank you with all my heart!" she cried. "It is a proof of affection which I shall never forget! You will live a hundred years--a thousand, if God will it! But the mere wish to leave me your fortune is a token of love and esteem which I shall know how to value."

The Primadonna by F. Marion Crawford
When the accident happened, Cordova was singing the mad scene in Lucia for the last time in that season, and she had never sung it better.

The Upper Berth F. Marion Crawford
Everybody stopped talking. Brisbane's voice was not loud, but possessed a peculiar quality of penetrating general conversation, and cutting it like a knife. Everybody listened. Brisbane, perceiving that he had attracted their general attention, lit his cigar with great equanimity.

For the Blood is the Life
"Perhaps it is. But the inexplicable part of the matter is that it makes no difference whether the moon is rising or setting, or waxing or waning. If there's any moonlight at all, from east or west or overhead, so long as it shines on the grave you can see the outline of the body on top."

Katharine Lauderdale
"For that matter," said Bright, "the fact is about as illusory as the illusion itself. If you insist upon being considered as one of the Lauderdale tribe, we're glad to have you on your own merits -- but you'll get nothing out of it but the glory --"

The Heart of Rome
She was not pleased, and spoke with excessive coldness when she asked if Donna Clementina was at home. The porter stood motionless beside the cab, leaning on his broom. After a pause he said in a rather strange voice that Donna Clementina was certainly in, but that he could not tell whether she were awake or not.

Sant' Ilario
Anastase was an artist by nature and no amount of military service could crush the chief aspirations of his intelligence. He had not abandoned work since he had joined the Zouaves, for his hours of leisure from duty were passed in his studio.

In The Palace Of The King
Inez sat opposite her sister, at the other end of the table, listening. She knew what Dolores was doing, how during long months her sister had written a letter, from time to time, in little fragments, to give to the man she loved, to slip into his hand at the first brief meeting or to drop at his feet in her glove

The Witch Of Prague A Fantastic Tale
He who loves with his whole soul has a knowledge and a learning which surpass the wisdom of those who spend their lives in the study of things living or long dead, or never animate. They, indeed, can construct the figure of a flower from the dried web of a single leaf

The Screaming Skull by F. Marion Crawford
I have often heard it scream. No, I am not nervous, I am not imaginative, and I never believed in ghosts, unless that thing is one. Whatever it is, it hates me almost as much as it hated Luke Pratt, and it screams at me.

Greifenstein
Poverty is too insignificant a word to describe the state in which the mother and daughter lived, and had lived for many years. They had no means of subsistence whatever beyond the pension accorded to the widow of Lieutenant von Sigmundskron, 'fallen on the field of honour,' as the official report had expressed it, in the murderous war with France.

Via Crucis A Romance of the Second Crusade
In the morning, and after dinner, and before sunset, she came every day to the little garden under the west wall of the manor, and looked long toward the road--not that she wished Sir Raymond back, nor that she cared when Gilbert came, but she well knew that the return of either would mean that the fighting was over, and that Sir Arnold, too, would be at leisure to go home.

Mr. Isaacs
In spite of Jean-Jacques and his school, men are not everywhere born free, any more than they are everywhere in chains, unless these be of their own individual making. Especially in countries where excessive liberty or excessive tyranny favours the growth of that class most usually designated as adventurers

Man Overboard!

Marzio's Crucifix and Zoroaster

Marietta

A Cigarette-Maker's Romance

The Children of the King

The White Sister

That Old Call for Unity

There is only one direction that we can go
That will be pleasing and full
All else leads to chaos and failure
Now is the moment to fix our focussed eyes.

We put efforts of great perspiration 
into smaller goals of little lasting value.
Now is the point to turn each face to Unity
A centre of overcoming our own prejudices
Of finding the heart of the common between us.

Pain is on the road, but what is new about that?
It is the looking into ourselves and seeing 
Our inadequacies, then trusting in God that
He will help us at every turn 
and support us when we slip for He will. 

He will help us to bring up strong children 
Educating them and freeing them from a cycle
of violence by curbing them when any sign
appears of improper behaviour.

Rewards when the good was done and punishment
with wise and pointed remarks to show 
We will not accept anything but the best.
Encourage them to keep trying in good humour
Make the child happy, show him learning is 
the true pleasure and not nonsense and ignorance.

Point the children to unity and co-operation
Then the battle is half won.

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