Grant Allen

Titles in Fiction category:

• African Millionaire, An

  My name is Seymour Wilbraham Wentworth. I am brother-in-law and secretary to Sir Charles Vandrift, the South African millionaire and famous financier. Many years ago, when Charlie Vandrift was a small lawyer in Cape Town, I had the (qualified) good fortune to marry his sister. Much later, ...

• Biographies of Working Men

  High up among the heather-clad hills which form the broad dividing barrier between England and Scotland, the little river Esk brawls and bickers over its stony bed through a wild land of barren braesides and brown peat mosses, forming altogether some of the gloomiest and most forbidding s ...

• British Barbarians, The

  Which every reader of this book is requested to read before beginning the story.

• Great Taboo, The

  I desire to express my profound indebtedness, for the central mythological idea embodied in this tale, to Mr. J.G. Frazer's admirable and epoch-making work, "The Golden Bough," whose main contention I have endeavored incidentally to popularize in my present story. I wish also to express m ...

• Hilda Wade

  In putting before the public the last work by Mr. Grant Allen, the publishers desire to express their deep regret at the author's unexpected and lamented death--a regret in which they are sure to be joined by the many thousand readers whom he did so much to entertain. A man of curiously ...

• Michael's Crag

  "Then you don't care for the place yourself, Tyrrel?" Eustace Le Neve said, musingly, as he gazed in front of him with a comprehensive glance at the long gray moor and the wide expanse of black and stormy water.

• Philistia

  It was Sunday evening, and on Sundays Max Schurz, the chief of the London Socialists, always held his weekly receptions. That night his cosmopolitan refugee friends were all at liberty; his French disciples could pour in from the little lanes and courts in Soho, where, since the Commune, ...

• Recalled to Life

  It may sound odd to say so, but the very earliest fact that impressed itself on my memory was a scene that took place--so I was told--when I was eighteen years old, in my father's house, The Grange, at Woodbury.

• What's Bred In the Bone

  It was late when Elma reached the station. Her pony had jibbed on the way downhill, and the train was just on the point of moving off as she hurried upon the platform. Old Matthews, the stout and chubby-cheeked station-master, seized her most unceremoniously by the left arm, and bundled ...

• Woman Who Did, The

  "But surely no woman would ever dare to do so," said my friend.

Titles in Short Stories category:

• Melissa's Tour    

  Lucy looked across the table at me with a face of blank horror. "O Vernon," she cried, "what are we ever to do? And an American at that! This is just too ghastly!" It's a habit of Lucy's, I may remark, to talk italics.