The Spinners' Book of Fiction Read online

  Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  "THE DEVIL SIT IN FILON'S EYES AND LAUGH--LAUGH--SOMETIME HE GO AWAY LIKE A MAN AT A WINDOW, BUT HE COME AGAIN.M'siu, he live there!" From a Painting by E. Almond Withrow.]

  THE SPINNERS' BOOK OF FICTION

  BY

  GERTRUDE ATHERTON, MARY AUSTIN GERALDINE BONNER, MARY HALLECK FOOTE ELEANOR GATES, JAMES HOPPER, JACK LONDON BAILEY MILLARD, MIRIAM MICHELSON, W. C. MORROW FRANK NORRIS, HENRY MILNER RIDEOUT CHARLES WARREN STODDARD, ISOBEL STRONG RICHARD WALTON TULLY AND HERMAN WHITAKER

  WITH A DEDICATORY POEM BY GEORGE STERLING

  COLLECTED BY THE BOOK COMMITTEE OF THE SPINNERS' CLUB

  ILLUSTRATED BY LILLIE V. O'RYAN, MAYNARD DIXON ALBERTINE RANDALL WHEELAN, MERLE JOHNSON E. ALMOND WITHROW AND GORDON ROSS INITIALS AND DECORATIONS BY SPENCER WRIGHT

  PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY SAN FRANCISCO AND NEW YORK

  _Published in behalf_ _of The Spinners' Benefit Fund_ _Ina D. Coolbrith_ _First Beneficiary_ _Copyright_, 1907 _by_ PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY

  * * * * *

  TO INA D. COOLBRITH

  WITH WILDER SIGHING IN THE PINE THE WIND WENT BY, AND SO I DREAMED; AND IN THAT DUSK OF SLEEP IT SEEMED A CITY BY THE SEA WAS MINE.

  TO STATELIER SPRANG THE WALLS OF TYRE FROM SEAWARD CLIFF OR STABLE HILL; AND LIGHT AND MUSIC MET TO FILL THE SPLENDID COURTS OF HER DESIRE--

  (EXTOLLING CHORDS THAT CRIED HER PRAISE, AND GOLDEN REEDS WHOSE MELLOW MOAN WAS LIKE AN OCEAN'S UNDERTONE DYING AND LOST ON FOREST WAYS).

  BUT SWEETER FAR THAN ANY SOUND THAT RANG OR RIPPLED IN HER HALLS, WAS ONE BEYOND HER EASTERN WALLS, BY SUMMER GARDENS GIRDLED ROUND.

  TWAS FROM A NIGHTINGALE, AND OH! THE SONG IT SANG HATH NEVER WORD! SWEETER IT SEEMED THAN LOVE'S, FIRST-HEARD, OR LUTES IN AIDENN MURMURING LOW.

  FAINT, AS WHEN DROWSY WINDS AWAKE A SISTERHOOD OF FAERY BELLS, IT WON REPLY FROM HIDDEN DELLS, LOYAL TO ECHO FOR ITS SAKE....

  I DREAMT I SLEPT, BUT CANNOT SAY HOW MANY DREAMLAND SEASONS FLED, NOR WHAT HORIZON OF THE DEAD GAVE BACK MY DREAM'S UNCERTAIN DAY.

  BUT STILL BESIDE THE TOILING SEA I LAY, AND SAW--FOR WALLS O'ERGROWN-- THE CITY THAT WAS MINE HAD KNOWN TIME'S SURE AND ANCIENT TREACHERY.

  ABOVE HER RAMPARTS, BROAD AS TYRE'S, THE GRASSES' MOUNTING ARMY BROKE; THE SHADOW OF THE SPRAWLING OAK USURPT THE SPLENDOR OF HER FIRES.

  BUT O'ER THE FALLEN MARBLES PALE I HEARD, LIKE ELFIN MELODIES BLOWN OVER FROM ENCHANTED SEAS, THE MUSIC OF THE NIGHTINGALE.

  GEORGE STERLING.

  THE STORIES

  CONCHA ARGUeELLO, SISTER DOMINICA_by Gertrude Atherton_

  THE FORD OF CREVECOEUR_by Mary Austin_

  A CALIFORNIAN_by Geraldine Bonner_

  GIDEON'S KNOCK_by Mary Halleck Foote_

  A YELLOW MAN AND A WHITE_by Eleanor Gates_

  THE JUDGMENT OF MAN_by James Hopper_

  THE LEAGUE OF THE OLD MEN_by Jack London_

  DOWN THE FLUME WITH THE SNEATH PIANO_by Bailey Millard_

  THE CONTUMACY OF SARAH L. WALKER_by Miriam Michelson_

  BREAKING THROUGH_by W. C. Morrow_

  A LOST STORY_by Frank Norris_

  HANTU_by Henry Milner Rideout_

  MISS. JUNO_by Charles Warren Stoddard_

  A LITTLE SAVAGE GENTLEMAN_by Isobel Strong_

  LOVE AND ADVERTISING_by Richard Walton Tully_

  THE TEWANA_by Herman Whitaker_