The Bishop
: The Iron HeelIt was after my marriage that I chanced upon Bishop Morehouse. But I
must give the events in their proper sequence. After his outbreak at the
I. P. H. Convention, the Bishop, being a gentle soul, had yielded to
the friendly pressure brought to bear upon him, and had gone away on a
vacation. But he returned more fixed than ever in his determination
to preach the message of the Church. To the consternation of his
congreg
had given before the Convention. Again he said, and at length and with
distressing detail, that the Church had wandered away from the Master's
teaching, and that Mammon had been instated in the place of Christ.
And the result was, willy-nilly, that he was led away to a private
sanitarium for mental disease, while in the newspapers appeared
pathetic accounts of his mental breakdown and of the saintliness of
his character. He was held a prisoner in the sanitarium. I called
repeatedly, but was denied access to him; and I was terribly impressed
by the tragedy of a sane, normal, saintly man being crushed by the
brutal will of society. For the Bishop was sane, and pure, and noble. As
Ernest said, all that was the matter with him was that he had incorrect
notions of biology and sociology, and because of his incorrect notions
he had not gone about it in the right way to rectify matters.
What terrified me was the Bishop's helplessness. If he persisted in the
truth as he saw it, he was doomed to an insane ward. And he could do
nothing. His money, his position, his culture, could not save him. His
views were perilous to society, and society could not conceive that such
perilous views could be the product of a sane mind. Or, at least, it
seems to me that such was society's attitude.
But the Bishop, in spite of the gentleness and purity of his spirit, was
possessed of guile. He apprehended clearly his danger. He saw himself
caught in the web, and he tried to escape from it. Denied help from his
friends, such as father and Ernest and I could have given, he was
left to battle for himself alone. And in the enforced solitude of the
sanitarium he recovered. He became again sane. His eyes ceased to see
visions; his brain was purged of the fancy that it was the duty of
society to feed the Master's lambs.
As I say, he became well, quite well, and the newspapers and the church
people hailed his return with joy. I went once to his church. The sermon
was of the same order as the ones he had preached long before his eyes
had seen visions. I was disappointed, shocked. Had society then beaten
him into submission? Was he a coward? Had he been bulldozed into
recanting? Or had the strain been too great for him, and had he meekly
surrendered to the juggernaut of the established?
I called upon him in his beautiful home. He was woefully changed. He was
thinner, and there were lines on his face which I had never seen before.
He was manifestly distressed by my coming. He plucked nervously at his
sleeve as we talked; and his eyes were restless, fluttering here, there,
and everywhere, and refusing to meet mine. His mind seemed preoccupied,
and there were strange pauses in his conversation, abrupt changes of
topic, and an inconsecutiveness that was bewildering. Could this, then,
be the firm-poised, Christ-like man I had known, with pure, limpid eyes
and a gaze steady and unfaltering as his soul? He had been man-handled;
he had been cowed into subjection. His spirit was too gentle. It had not
been mighty enough to face the organized wolf-pack of society.
I felt sad, unutterably sad. He talked ambiguously, and was so
apprehensive of what I might say that I had not the heart to catechise
him. He spoke in a far-away manner of his illness, and we talked
disjointedly about the church, the alterations in the organ, and about
petty charities; and he saw me depart with such evident relief that I
should have laughed had not my heart been so full of tears.
The poor little hero! If I had only known! He was battling like a giant,
and I did not guess it. Alone, all alone, in the midst of millions of
his fellow-men, he was fighting his fight. Torn by his horror of the
asylum and his fidelity to truth and the right, he clung steadfastly to
truth and the right; but so alone was he that he did not dare to trust
even me. He had learned his lesson well--too well.
But I was soon to know. One day the Bishop disappeared. He had told
nobody that he was going away; and as the days went by and he did not
reappear, there was much gossip to the effect that he had committed
suicide while temporarily deranged. But this idea was dispelled when it
was learned that he had sold all his possessions,--his city mansion, his
country house at Menlo Park, his paintings, and collections, and even
his cherished library. It was patent that he had made a clean and secret
sweep of everything before he disappeared.
This happened during the time when calamity had overtaken us in our own
affairs; and it was not till we were well settled in our new home that
we had opportunity really to wonder and speculate about the Bishop's
doings. And then, everything was suddenly made clear. Early one evening,
while it was yet twilight, I had run across the street and into the
butcher-shop to get some chops for Ernest's supper. We called the last
meal of the day "supper" in our new environment.
Just at the moment I came out of the butcher-shop, a man emerged from
the corner grocery that stood alongside. A queer sense familiarity made
me look again. But the man had turned and was walking rapidly away.
There was something about the slope of the shoulders and the fringe
of silver hair between coat collar and slouch hat that aroused vague
memories. Instead of crossing the street, I hurried after the man. I
quickened my pace, trying not to think the thoughts that formed unbidden
in my brain. No, it was impossible. It could not be--not in those faded
overalls, too long in the legs and frayed at the bottoms.
I paused, laughed at myself, and almost abandoned the chase. But the
haunting familiarity of those shoulders and that silver hair! Again
I hurried on. As I passed him, I shot a keen look at his face; then I
whirled around abruptly and confronted--the Bishop.
He halted with equal abruptness, and gasped. A large paper bag in his
right hand fell to the sidewalk. It burst, and about his feet and mine
bounced and rolled a flood of potatoes. He looked at me with surprise
and alarm, then he seemed to wilt away; the shoulders drooped with
dejection, and he uttered a deep sigh.
I held out my hand. He shook it, but his hand felt clammy. He cleared
his throat in embarrassment, and I could see the sweat starting out on
his forehead. It was evident that he was badly frightened.
"The potatoes," he murmured faintly. "They are precious."
Between us we picked them up and replaced them in the broken bag, which
he now held carefully in the hollow of his arm. I tried to tell him my
gladness at meeting him and that he must come right home with me.
"Father will be rejoiced to see you," I said. "We live only a stone's
throw away.
"I can't," he said, "I must be going. Good-by."
He looked apprehensively about him, as though dreading discovery, and
made an attempt to walk on.
"Tell me where you live, and I shall call later," he said, when he saw
that I walked beside him and that it was my intention to stick to him
now that he was found.
"No," I answered firmly. "You must come now."
He looked at the potatoes spilling on his arm, and at the small parcels
on his other arm.
"Really, it is impossible," he said. "Forgive me for my rudeness. If you
only knew."
He looked as if he were going to break down, but the next moment he had
himself in control.
"Besides, this food," he went on. "It is a sad case. It is terrible. She
is an old woman. I must take it to her at once. She is suffering from
want of it. I must go at once. You understand. Then I will return. I
promise you."
"Let me go with you," I volunteered. "Is it far?"
He sighed again, and surrendered.
"Only two blocks," he said. "Let us hasten."
Under the Bishop's guidance I learned something of my own neighborhood.
I had not dreamed such wretchedness and misery existed in it. Of course,
this was because I did not concern myself with charity. I had become
convinced that Ernest was right when he sneered at charity as a
poulticing of an ulcer. Remove the ulcer, was his remedy; give to the
worker his product; pension as soldiers those who grow honorably old in
their toil, and there will be no need for charity. Convinced of this,
I toiled with him at the revolution, and did not exhaust my energy in
alleviating the social ills that continuously arose from the injustice
of the system.
I followed the Bishop into a small room, ten by twelve, in a rear
tenement. And there we found a little old German woman--sixty-four years
old, the Bishop said. She was surprised at seeing me, but she nodded a
pleasant greeting and went on sewing on the pair of men's trousers in
her lap. Beside her, on the floor, was a pile of trousers. The Bishop
discovered there was neither coal nor kindling, and went out to buy
some.
I took up a pair of trousers and examined her work.
"Six cents, lady," she said, nodding her head gently while she went on
stitching. She stitched slowly, but never did she cease from stitching.
She seemed mastered by the verb "to stitch."
"For all that work?" I asked. "Is that what they pay? How long does it
take you?"
"Yes," she answered, "that is what they pay. Six cents for finishing.
Two hours' sewing on each pair."
"But the boss doesn't know that," she added quickly, betraying a fear
of getting him into trouble. "I'm slow. I've got the rheumatism in my
hands. Girls work much faster. They finish in half that time. The boss
is kind. He lets me take the work home, now that I am old and the noise
of the machine bothers my head. If it wasn't for his kindness, I'd
starve.
"Yes, those who work in the shop get eight cents. But what can you do?
There is not enough work for the young. The old have no chance. Often
one pair is all I can get. Sometimes, like to-day, I am given eight pair
to finish before night."
I asked her the hours she worked, and she said it depended on the
season.
"In the summer, when there is a rush order, I work from five in the
morning to nine at night. But in the winter it is too cold. The hands do
not early get over the stiffness. Then you must work later--till after
midnight sometimes.
"Yes, it has been a bad summer. The hard times. God must be angry.
This is the first work the boss has given me in a week. It is true, one
cannot eat much when there is no work. I am used to it. I have sewed
all my life, in the old country and here in San Francisco--thirty-three
years.
"If you are sure of the rent, it is all right. The houseman is very
kind, but he must have his rent. It is fair. He only charges three
dollars for this room. That is cheap. But it is not easy for you to find
all of three dollars every month."
She ceased talking, and, nodding her head, went on stitching.
"You have to be very careful as to how you spend your earnings," I
suggested.
She nodded emphatically.
"After the rent it's not so bad. Of course you can't buy meat. And there
is no milk for the coffee. But always there is one meal a day, and often
two."
She said this last proudly. There was a smack of success in her words.
But as she stitched on in silence, I noticed the sadness in her pleasant
eyes and the droop of her mouth. The look in her eyes became far away.
She rubbed the dimness hastily out of them; it interfered with her
stitching.
"No, it is not the hunger that makes the heart ache," she explained.
"You get used to being hungry. It is for my child that I cry. It was
the machine that killed her. It is true she worked hard, but I cannot
understand. She was strong. And she was young--only forty; and she
worked only thirty years. She began young, it is true; but my man died.
The boiler exploded down at the works. And what were we to do? She was
ten, but she was very strong. But the machine killed her. Yes, it
did. It killed her, and she was the fastest worker in the shop. I have
thought about it often, and I know. That is why I cannot work in the
shop. The machine bothers my head. Always I hear it saying, 'I did it, I
did it.' And it says that all day long. And then I think of my daughter,
and I cannot work."
The moistness was in her old eyes again, and she had to wipe it away
before she could go on stitching.
I heard the Bishop stumbling up the stairs, and I opened the door. What
a spectacle he was. On his back he carried half a sack of coal, with
kindling on top. Some of the coal dust had coated his face, and the
sweat from his exertions was running in streaks. He dropped his burden
in the corner by the stove and wiped his face on a coarse bandana
handkerchief. I could scarcely accept the verdict of my senses. The
Bishop, black as a coal-heaver, in a workingman's cheap cotton shirt
(one button was missing from the throat), and in overalls! That was the
most incongruous of all--the overalls, frayed at the bottoms, dragged
down at the heels, and held up by a narrow leather belt around the hips
such as laborers wear.
Though the Bishop was warm, the poor swollen hands of the old woman were
already cramping with the cold; and before we left her, the Bishop had
built the fire, while I had peeled the potatoes and put them on to boil.
I was to learn, as time went by, that there were many cases similar
to hers, and many worse, hidden away in the monstrous depths of the
tenements in my neighborhood.
We got back to find Ernest alarmed by my absence. After the first
surprise of greeting was over, the Bishop leaned back in his chair,
stretched out his overall-covered legs, and actually sighed a
comfortable sigh. We were the first of his old friends he had met since
his disappearance, he told us; and during the intervening weeks he must
have suffered greatly from loneliness. He told us much, though he told
us more of the joy he had experienced in doing the Master's bidding.
"For truly now," he said, "I am feeding his lambs. And I have learned
a great lesson. The soul cannot be ministered to till the stomach is
appeased. His lambs must be fed bread and butter and potatoes and
meat; after that, and only after that, are their spirits ready for more
refined nourishment."
He ate heartily of the supper I cooked. Never had he had such an
appetite at our table in the old days. We spoke of it, and he said that
he had never been so healthy in his life.
"I walk always now," he said, and a blush was on his cheek at the
thought of the time when he rode in his carriage, as though it were a
sin not lightly to be laid.
"My health is better for it," he added hastily. "And I am very
happy--indeed, most happy. At last I am a consecrated spirit."
And yet there was in his face a permanent pain, the pain of the world
that he was now taking to himself. He was seeing life in the raw, and it
was a different life from what he had known within the printed books of
his library.
"And you are responsible for all this, young man," he said directly to
Ernest.
Ernest was embarrassed and awkward.
"I--I warned you," he faltered.
"No, you misunderstand," the Bishop answered. "I speak not in reproach,
but in gratitude. I have you to thank for showing me my path. You led me
from theories about life to life itself. You pulled aside the veils from
the social shams. You were light in my darkness, but now I, too, see the
light. And I am very happy, only . . ." he hesitated painfully, and in
his eyes fear leaped large. "Only the persecution. I harm no one. Why
will they not let me alone? But it is not that. It is the nature of
the persecution. I shouldn't mind if they cut my flesh with stripes, or
burned me at the stake, or crucified me head--downward. But it is the
asylum that frightens me. Think of it! Of me--in an asylum for the
insane! It is revolting. I saw some of the cases at the sanitarium. They
were violent. My blood chills when I think of it. And to be imprisoned
for the rest of my life amid scenes of screaming madness! No! no! Not
that! Not that!"
It was pitiful. His hands shook, his whole body quivered and shrank away
from the picture he had conjured. But the next moment he was calm.
"Forgive me," he said simply. "It is my wretched nerves. And if the
Master's work leads there, so be it. Who am I to complain?"
I felt like crying aloud as I looked at him: "Great Bishop! O hero!
God's hero!"
As the evening wore on we learned more of his doings.
"I sold my house--my houses, rather," he said, "all my other possessions.
I knew I must do it secretly, else they would have taken everything away
from me. That would have been terrible. I often marvel these days at the
immense quantity of potatoes two or three hundred thousand dollars will
buy, or bread, or meat, or coal and kindling." He turned to Ernest. "You
are right, young man. Labor is dreadfully underpaid. I never did a
bit of work in my life, except to appeal aesthetically to Pharisees--I
thought I was preaching the message--and yet I was worth half a million
dollars. I never knew what half a million dollars meant until I realized
how much potatoes and bread and butter and meat it could buy. And then
I realized something more. I realized that all those potatoes and that
bread and butter and meat were mine, and that I had not worked to make
them. Then it was clear to me, some one else had worked and made them
and been robbed of them. And when I came down amongst the poor I found
those who had been robbed and who were hungry and wretched because they
had been robbed."
We drew him back to his narrative.
"The money? I have it deposited in many different banks under different
names. It can never be taken away from me, because it can never be
found. And it is so good, that money. It buys so much food. I never knew
before what money was good for."
"I wish we could get some of it for the propaganda," Ernest said
wistfully. "It would do immense good."
"Do you think so?" the Bishop said. "I do not have much faith in
politics. In fact, I am afraid I do not understand politics."
Ernest was delicate in such matters. He did not repeat his suggestion,
though he knew only too well the sore straits the Socialist Party was in
through lack of money.
"I sleep in cheap lodging houses," the Bishop went on. "But I am afraid,
and never stay long in one place. Also, I rent two rooms in workingmen's
houses in different quarters of the city. It is a great extravagance,
I know, but it is necessary. I make up for it in part by doing my own
cooking, though sometimes I get something to eat in cheap coffee-houses.
And I have made a discovery. Tamales* are very good when the air grows
chilly late at night. Only they are so expensive. But I have discovered
a place where I can get three for ten cents. They are not so good as the
others, but they are very warming.
* A Mexican dish, referred to occasionally in the literature
of the times. It is supposed that it was warmly seasoned.
No recipe of it has come down to us.
"And so I have at last found my work in the world, thanks to you, young
man. It is the Master's work." He looked at me, and his eyes twinkled.
"You caught me feeding his lambs, you know. And of course you will all
keep my secret."
He spoke carelessly enough, but there was real fear behind the speech.
He promised to call upon us again. But a week later we read in the
newspaper of the sad case of Bishop Morehouse, who had been committed to
the Napa Asylum and for whom there were still hopes held out. In vain
we tried to see him, to have his case reconsidered or investigated. Nor
could we learn anything about him except the reiterated statements that
slight hopes were still held for his recovery.
"Christ told the rich young man to sell all he had," Ernest said
bitterly. "The Bishop obeyed Christ's injunction and got locked up in a
madhouse. Times have changed since Christ's day. A rich man to-day who
gives all he has to the poor is crazy. There is no discussion. Society
has spoken."
More
-
Tattoo
To Keith's amusement, the artist did his work after using a topical anesthetic, saying it was to prevent a flinch from spoiling the design. Remaining still and with no more than minor sensations of pressure on his face, though, seemed to be maki... Telling The Time By Geography
After supper I went up into his compartment, and having arranged the bulkhead, began the tedious operation at the pump handle. It was a matter of pure muscular strength, as the effort had to be made to lift the handle, which snapped back sharply w... Terrific Saurian Combat
Saturday, August 15th. The sea still retains its uniform monotony. The same leaden hue, the same eternal glare from above. No indication of land being in sight. The horizon appears to retreat before us, more and more as we advance. My head, sti... The 4-d Doodler
"Do you believe, Professor Gault, that this four dimensional plane contains life--intelligent life?" At the question, Gault laughed shortly. "You have been reading pseudo-science, Dr. Pillbot," he twitted. "I realize that as a psychiat... The Advent
CHAPTER I I Oliver Brand, the new member for Croydon (4), sat in his study, looking out of the window over the top of his typewriter. His house stood facing northwards at the extreme end of a spur of the Surrey Hills, now cut and tunnelled o... The Adventures Of The Caledonia
The passengers of the Caledonia were in a state of hopeless dejection and violent exasperation. An attempt was made to throw the blame of their misfortune on the unpardonable carelessness of the responsible military authorities, rather than attrib... The Aerophile
For a while, as Graham went through the passages of the Wind-Vane offices with Lincoln, he was preoccupied. But, by an effort, he attended to the things which Lincoln was saying. Soon his preoccupation vanished. Lincoln was talking of flying. Gr... The Air Battle
Two hours after leaving my palace at Helium, or about midnight, Kantos Kan, Xodar, and I arrived at Hastor. Carthoris, Tars Tarkas, and Hor Vastus had gone directly to Thark upon another cruiser. The transports were to get under way immediately... The Airlords Besieged
In a previous record of my adventures in the early part of the Second War of Independence I explained how I, Anthony Rogers, was overcome by radioactive gases in an abandoned mine near Scranton in the year 1927, where I existed in a state of suspe... The Aliens
The human race was expanding through the galaxy ... and so, they knew, were the Aliens. When two expanding empires meet ... war is inevitable. Or is it ...? At 04 hours 10 minutes, ship time, the Niccola was well inside the T... The Altered World
I. Change played in its new fashion with the world for twenty years. To most men the new things came little by little and day by day, remarkably enough, but not so abruptly as to overwhelm. But to one man at least the full accumulation of those... The Alternate Plan
The operation was a very serious one and Bart Neely was willing to put himself into Dr. Morton's hands. But if things turned out badly, Bart was going to teach them a lesson. He was going to refuse to die. Bart Neely was fighting the hy... The Ambulance Made Two Trips
If you should set a thief to catch a thief, what does it take to stop a racketeer...? Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald found a package before his door that morning, along with the milk. He took it inside and opened it. It w... The Amphitheatre Of Jet
For hours the black-haired folk had been streaming across the bridges, flowing along the promenade by scores and by hundreds, drifting down toward the gigantic seven-terraced temple whose interior I had never as yet seen, and from whose towering ext... The Angry Whispering Globe
Our way led along a winding path between banked masses of softly radiant blooms, groups of feathery ferns whose plumes were starred with fragrant white and blue flowerets, slender creepers swinging from the branches of the strangely trunked trees, b... The Ape Gigans
It is difficult for me to determine what was the real time, but I should suppose, by after calculation, that it must have been ten at night. I lay in a stupor, a half dream, during which I saw visions of astounding character. Monsters of the dee... The Arabian Tunnel
That same evening, in 21 deg. 30' N. lat., the Nautilus floated on the surface of the sea, approaching the Arabian coast. I saw Djeddah, the most important counting-house of Egypt, Syria, Turkey, and India. I distinguished clearly enough its build... The Armies Of Mars
As the two returning birds passed the marching soldiers, their riders evidently delivered some message to the captains, for the soldiers suddenly broke forward in a run, using their long cross-bows with great dexterity as jumping staves. Placing t... The Ascent Of Mount Sneffels
The huge volcano which was the first stage of our daring experiment is above five thousand feet high. Sneffels is the termination of a long range of volcanic mountains, of a different character to the system of the island itself. One of its peculi... The Astonishing Communication Of Mr Julius Wendigee
When I had finished my account of my return to the earth at Littlestone, I wrote, "The End," made a flourish, and threw my pen aside, fully believing that the whole story of the First Men in the Moon was done. Not only had I done this, but I had pla... The Astronomer
By the return of the expedition, conveying its contribution from Formentera, the known population of Gallia was raised to a total of thirty-six. On learning the details of his friends' discoveries, Count Timascheff did not hesitate in believing t... The Attack
I spent some time, puzzling how to strengthen the study door. Finally, I went down to the kitchen, and with some trouble, brought up several heavy pieces of timber. These, I wedged up, slantwise, against it, from the floor, nailing them top and bott... The Attitude Of Mr Thornduck
We reached London next day in the afternoon. I felt exhausted and could scarcely answer Sarakoff, who had talked continuously during the journey. But his theory had interested me. The Russian had revealed much of his character, under the stress... The Auriole
"All aboard, I think, Captain Roker," said Mr Parmenter, as he walked last to the top of the gangway ladder, and stood square-footed on the white deck of the Auriole. "All aboard, sir," replied Hiram Roker, "and now I reckon you'll have to excu... The Auriole Hoists The White Ensign
Rather to Mr Parmenter's surprise his first interview "with a real king" was rather like other business interviews that he had had; in fact, as he said afterwards, of all the business men he had ever met in his somewhat varied career, this quiet-s... The Awakening
But Warming was wrong in that. An awakening came. What a wonderfully complex thing! this simple seeming unity--the self! Who can trace its reintegration as morning after morning we awaken, the flux and confluence of its countless factors inte... The Awakening
I awoke, with a start. For a moment, I wondered where I was. Then memory came to me.... The room was still lit with that strange light--half-sun, half-moon, light. I felt refreshed, and the tired, weary ache had left me. I went slowly across to t... The Awakening
Constans climbed to his observatory on the roof of the "Flat-iron" as usual that next morning. It was a fine, bright day and so clear that he could see for miles without the use of his glass. And there was something to see--far away to the north h... The Battle
We swept out over the Great City, flying in the battle-formation we had used many times before on our trips about the country. Mercer's platform and mine were some fifty feet apart, leading. Behind us, in a great semicircle, the girls spread out, ... The Battle
As Heideck returned to the camp, the road was lit up by the red glare of innumerable fires. On the wide plain, stretching between the town and river, work was going on in feverish haste. Rations and ammunition were being dealt out, and long lines ... The Battle In The Plain
The distance from the bottom of the funnel to the floor of the chamber beneath it could not have been great, for all three of the victims of Tario's wrath alighted unscathed. Carthoris, still clasping Thuvia tightly to his breast, came to the g... The Battle Of Flushing
The strategy of red tape, by which the Commander-in-Chief's hands were tied, was destined, as in so many previous campaigns, to prove on this occasion also a fatal error to the English. Sir Percy Domvile, the British admiral, had received with s... The Battle Of The Darkness
He was no longer in the hall. He was marching along a gallery overhanging one of the great streets of the moving platforms that traversed the city. Before him and behind him tramped his guards. The whole concave of the moving ways below was a co... The Battle Of The Elements
Friday, August 21st. This morning the magnificent geyser had wholly disappeared. The wind had freshened up, and we were fast leaving the neighborhood of Henry's Island. Even the roaring sound of the mighty column was lost to the ear. The weathe... The Beginning Of Horror
WITHIN PELLUCIDAR ONE TIME IS AS GOOD AS ANOTHER. There were no nights to mask our attempted escape. All must be done in broad daylight--all but the work I had to do in the apartment beneath the building. So we determined to put our plan to an ... The Beginning Of The End
As early as January, 1913, Ernest saw the true trend of affairs, but he could not get his brother leaders to see the vision of the Iron Heel that had arisen in his brain. They were too confident. Events were rushing too rapidly to culmination. A c... The Bishop
It was after my marriage that I chanced upon Bishop Morehouse. But I must give the events in their proper sequence. After his outbreak at the I. P. H. Convention, the Bishop, being a gentle soul, had yielded to the friendly pressure brought to bea... The Bishop's Vision
"The Bishop is out of hand," Ernest wrote me. "He is clear up in the air. Tonight he is going to begin putting to rights this very miserable world of ours. He is going to deliver his message. He has told me so, and I cannot dissuade him. To-night ... The Black Blow
"Oh, Ronnie, darling," Myra asked, in a pitiful voice that went to my heart. "What can it mean? I--I--I can't see--anything at all." "It's the sun, darling; it will be all right in a minute or two. There, lie in my arms, dear, and close your poo... The Black Pirates Of Barsoom
"What is it?" I asked of the girl. For answer she pointed to the sky. I looked, and there, above us, I saw shadowy bodies flitting hither and thither high over temple, court, and garden. Almost immediately flashes of light broke from these ... The Black Raider
For a stunned moment they were helpless as they struggled to pick themselves up. The stable airlock deck was suddenly no longer stable ... it was lurching back and forth like a rowboat on a heavy sea, and they grabbed the shock-bars along the bulk... The Black River
The portion of the terrestrial globe which is covered by water is estimated at upwards of eighty millions of acres. This fluid mass comprises two billions two hundred and fifty millions of cubic miles, forming a spherical body of a diameter of sixt... The Blue Disease
Next day the first news of the Sarakoff-Harden bacillus appeared in a small paragraph in an evening paper, and immediately I saw it, I hurried back to the house in Harley Street where Sarakoff was writing a record of our researches. "Listen to ... The Boise Acts
But what of the super-ship? What happened after that inertialess, that terribly destructive take-off? Doctor Frederick Rodebush sat at the control panel of Triplanetary's newly reconstructed space-ship, his hands grasping the gleaming, ebonite ... The Bowels Of The Comet
The whole night was spent in speculating, with gloomy forebodings, upon the chances of the future. The temperature of the hall, now entirely exposed to the outer air, was rapidly falling, and would quickly become unendurable. Far too intense was t... The Brat Gigantic
I. The giant child was ugly--the Vicar would insist. "He always had been ugly--as all excessive things must be." The Vicar's views had carried him out of sight of just judgment in this matter. The child was much subjected to snapshots even in t... The Bread Of Affliction
Two miles from the keep was a cave that Constans had discovered on one of his hunting-trips, and which, boylike, he had proceeded to fit up with some rude furniture for lodging and cooking, little dreaming that he should ever stand in actual need ... The British Barbarians
I The time was Saturday afternoon; the place was Surrey; the person of the drama was Philip Christy. He had come down by the early fast train to Brackenhurst. All the world knows Brackenhurst, of course, the greenest and leafiest of o... The Building Of The Moon Pool
She paused, running her long fingers through her own bronze-flecked ringlets. Selective breeding this, with a vengeance, I thought; an ancient experiment in heredity which of course would in time result in the stamping out of the tendency to depart ... The Building Of The Sphere
I remember the occasion very distinctly when Cavor told me of his idea of the sphere. He had had intimations of it before, but at the time it seemed to come to him in a rush. We were returning to the bungalow for tea, and on the way he fell humming.... The Bull Whip
As von Horn and Virginia Maxon walked slowly beneath the dense shadows of the jungle he again renewed his suit. It would please him more to have the girl accompany him voluntarily than to be compelled to take her by force, but take her he would o... The Burglary At The Vicarage
The facts of the burglary at the vicarage came to us chiefly through the medium of the vicar and his wife. It occurred in the small hours of Whit Monday, the day devoted in Iping to the Club festivities. Mrs. Bunting, it seems, woke up suddenly in... The Butterflies
Two years passed by after my return to London without special incident, save that my black cat died. My work as a consulting physician occupied most of my time. In the greater world beyond my consulting-room door life went on undisturbed by any th... The Camp
Felix walked steadily on for nearly three hours, when the rough track, the dust, and heat began to tell upon him, and he sat down beside the way. The sun was now declining, and the long June day tending to its end. A horseman passed, coming from t... The Camp Of Lahore
An unusually beautiful and dry spring favoured the advance of the Russian army through the mountains. In the north of India the temperature kept at an average of 68 degrees F., and day after day the sun streamed down from a cloudless blue sky upon... The Campaign
So the undiscoverable commander had reappeared upon the territory of the United States! He had never shown himself in Europe either on the roads or in the seas. He had not crossed the Atlantic, which apparently he could have traversed in three... The Cannibalistic Orgy
At first Jim and Dennis could only comprehend the numbers of the foe--could only grip their bars and resolve to die as expensively as possible. But then, as a few seconds elapsed during which they were amazingly not charged by the insects, they be... The Canoe
Felix had scarcely worked half an hour before Oliver returned and threw himself on the ground at full length. He had wearied of fishing, the delicate adjustment of the tackle and the care necessary to keep the hook and line from catching in the br... The Captain Makes An Exploration
Hector Servadac was not the man to remain long unnerved by any untoward event. It was part of his character to discover the why and the wherefore of everything that came under his observation, and he would have faced a cannon ball the more unflinc... The Captain's Wife
As a married man, Captain Irwin was not quartered in one of the wooden barracks of the English camp, but had his own bungalow in the suburbs. It was a house of one story with a broad verandah, was surrounded by a large well-kept garden, and form... The Captive Earth-man
As we came out of the valley I had my first view of the Great City. It occupied a huge, mound-shaped circular mountain which rose alone out of the wide plain that spread before me. As far as I could see extended a rich muddy soil partially covered... The Casting Of The Shadow
Now we were racing down toward that last span whose ancientness had set it apart from all the other soaring arches. The shell's speed slackened; we approached warily. "We pass there?" asked O'Keefe. The green dwarf nodded, pointing to the right... The Catastrophe
The Esmeralda was putting out to sea when I thought of a last expedient to draw the attention of her captain. Filling my revolver with cartridges which I had loose in my pockets, I fired all the chambers as fast as I could snap the trigger. My ... The Cavern Of The Shining Ones
Layroh's hiring of husky down-and-outers for his expedition is part of a plan made ages past. It was shortly after midnight when a persistent nightmare aroused Don Foster from sleep. For a moment he lay drowsily in his blanke... The Celestial Globes
For a while, many thoughts crowded my mind, so that I was unable to do aught, save stare, blindly, before me. I seemed whelmed in a sea of doubt and wonder and sorrowful remembrance. It was later, that I came out of my bewilderment. I looked about... The Central Sea
At first I saw absolutely nothing. My eyes, wholly unused to the effulgence of light, could not bear the sudden brightness; and I was compelled to close them. When I was able to reopen them, I stood still, far more stupefied than astonished. Not a... The Challenge Of The Mound
It was a curious, somehow weird-looking thing, that mound. About a yard in height and three and a half in diameter, it squatted in the grassy grove next the clump of trees like an enormous, inverted soup plate. Here and there tufts of grass waved ... The Chamber Of Life
I didn't know what Melbourne meant, and I looked at him inquiringly. He explained: "I have in my home a model--or rather a complete test-apparatus. It was finished only a few days ago. I have been postponing my trial of it from day to day, afrai... The Chamber Of Mystery
For moments after that awful laugh had ceased reverberating through the rocky room, Tars Tarkas and I stood in tense and expectant silence. But no further sound broke the stillness, nor within the range of our vision did aught move. At length T... The Charge Of Cowardice
Gahan, watching through the aperture between the hangings, saw the frantic flight of their pursuers. A grim smile rested upon his lips as he viewed the mad scramble for safety and saw them throw away their swords and fight with one another to be fir... The Chemist's Rock
By the time we gave up our hunt for Sholto that night and saw Hilderman into the Baltimore II. at the landing-stage, the harvest moon had splashed the mountain side with patches of silver in reckless profusion. But we were in no mood for aesthetic... The Chicago Commune
As agents-provocateurs, not alone were we able to travel a great deal, but our very work threw us in contact with the proletariat and with our comrades, the revolutionists. Thus we were in both camps at the same time, ostensibly serving the Iron H...