Witch Stories is written by Elizabeth Lynn Linton. The month after this trial, Bessie Roy, nurreych (nurse) to the Leslies of Balquhain, was "dilatit" for sorcery generally, and specially for being "a common awa-taker of women's milk." She took away poor Bessie Steel's, when she came to ask alms, and only restored it again when she was afraid of getting into trouble for the fault. She was also accused.
The Wind in the Rose-Bush is written by Mary Wilkins Freeman. The boy was as sparing of speech as a philosopher. His only response was in flinging the reins over the horse's back, stretching out one foot to the shaft, and leaping out of the wagon, then going around to the rear for the trunk. Rebecca got out and went toward the house. Its white paint had a new gloss; its blinds were an immaculate apple green.
The Tyranny of the Dark is written by Hamlin Garland. The village of Colorow is enclosed by a colossal amphitheatre of dove-gray stone, in whose niches wind-warped pines stand like spectators silent and waiting. Six thousand feet above the valley floor green and orange slopes run to the edges of perennial ice-fields, while farther away, and peering above these almost inaccessible defences, like tents of besieging.
The Rosicrucian Mysteries is written by Max Heindel. The riddle which she asked of men was the riddle of life and death, a query which is as relevant today as ever, and which each one must answer or be devoured in the jaws of death. But when once a person has found the solution to the problem, it will appear that in reality there is no death, that what appears so, is but a change from one state of existence to another.
The Road I Know is written by Stewart Edward White. The graceful and gracious conduct of this constantly shifting social menagerie would seem a full-time job, but it was actually only one side issue of Betty's many lively interests. She had three acres of garden which she managed with the labor of one man--and it was HER garden, not a gardener's garden--minutely diagrammed by her, down to the planting.
The Portal of Dreams is written by Charles Neville Buck. The doctor was so small and frail that his narrow face was rescued from inconsequence only by a trimly cropped Van-Dyck with a dignified sprinkling of gray. I always felt that, should I ever see him in a bathing suit, I would have to seek a new physician. I could never again think of him as sufficiently grown-up to practise an adult vocation.
The Mystics is written by Katherine Cecil Thurston. The dying man lay motionless, awaiting the final summons with that aloofness that suggests a spirit already partially extricated from its covering of flesh. His glassy eyes were still fixed and immovable save for an occasional twitching of the eyelids; his pallid lips were drawn back from his strong, prominent teeth; and the skin about his temples looked shrivelled and sallow.
The Great Keinplatz Experiment is written by Arthur Conan Doyle. This was the curious narrative which Sir Dominick confided to me--a story which to many would have appeared to be a grotesque impossibility, but which, after my experience of the night before, and my previous knowledge of such things, I was prepared to accept as an absolute fact. I thought deeply over the matter, and brought the whole range.
The Gates Ajar is written by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. The house feels like a prison. I walk up and down and wonder that I ever called it home. Something is the matter with the sunsets; they come and go, and I do not notice them. Something ails the voices of the children, snowballing down the street; all the music has gone out of them, and they hurt me like knives. The harmless, happy children!
The Case of Lester Coltman is written by Lilian Walbrook. The joys experienced by many women who on earth had been fond of beautiful needlework are continued in a spiritual sense over here. The blending of exquisite colours and the welding of intricate designs they are able to pursue in a more advanced and less laborious manner. I am finding it somewhat difficult to explain our amusements to you.