INTRODUCTION. One of the peculiarities of Bulwer was his passion for occult studies. They had a charm for him early in life, and he pursued them with the earnestness which characterised his pursuit of other studies. He became absorbed in wizard lore; he equipped himself with magical implements,—with rods for transmitting influence, and crystal balls in which to discern coming scenes and persons; and communed with spiritualists and mediums.... more...

CHAPTER I. In which the history opens with a description of the social manners,habits, and amusements of the English People, as exhibited in animmemorial National Festivity.—Characters to be commemorated in thehistory, introduced and graphically portrayed, with a nasologicalillustration.—Original suggestions as to the idiosyncrasiesengendered by trades and callings, with other matters worthy ofnote, conveyed in artless dialogue after... more...

I. O'er royal London, in luxuriant May,While lamps yet twinkled, dawning crept the day.Home from the hell the pale-eyed gamester steals;Home from the ball flash jaded Beauty's wheels;The lean grimalkin, who, since night began,Hath hymn'd to love amidst the wrath of man,Scared from his raptures by the morning star,Flits finely by, and threads the area bar;From fields suburban rolls the early cart;As rests the revel, so awakes the mart.Transfusing... more...

THE IDEAL WORLD I.THE IDEAL WORLD,—ITS REALM IS EVERYWHERE AROUND US; ITS INHABITANTS ARETHE IMMORTAL PERSONIFICATIONS OF ALL BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS; TO THAT WORLD WEATTAIN BY THE REPOSE OF THE SENSES.AROUND "this visible diurnal sphere"There floats a World that girds us like the space;On wandering clouds and gliding beams careerIts ever-moving murmurous Populace.There, all the lovelier thoughts conceived belowAscending live, and in celestial... more...

CHAPTER I. It was a bright day in the early spring of 1869. All Paris seemed to have turned out to enjoy itself. The Tuileries, the Champs Elysees, the Bois de Boulogne, swarmed with idlers. A stranger might have wondered where Toil was at work, and in what nook Poverty lurked concealed. A millionaire from the London Exchange, as he looked round on the magasins, the equipages, the dresses of the women; as he inquired the prices in the shops and... more...

Chapter I. I am a native of _____, in the United States of America. My ancestors migrated from England in the reign of Charles II.; and my grandfather was not undistinguished in the War of Independence. My family, therefore, enjoyed a somewhat high social position in right of birth; and being also opulent, they were considered disqualified for the public service. My father once ran for Congress, but was signally defeated by his tailor. After... more...

CHAPTER I.           "O that sweet gleam of sunshine on the lake!"          WILSON'S City of the Plague If, reader, you have ever looked through a solar microscope at the monsters in a drop of water, perhaps you have wondered to yourself how things so terrible have been hitherto unknown to you—you have felt a loathing at the limpid element... more...

CHAPTER XXI. Randal's mind was made up. All he had learned in regard to Levy had confirmed his resolves or dissipated his scruples. He had started from the improbability that Pesehiera would offer, and the still greater improbability that Peschiera would pay him, L10,000 for such information or aid as he could bestow in furthering the count's object. But when Levy took such proposals entirely on himself, the main question to Randal became... more...

INITIAL CHAPTER —SHOWING HOW MY NOVEL CAME TO BE WRITTEN. Scene, the hall in UNCLE ROLAND'S tower; time, night; season, winter. MR. CAXTON is seated before a great geographical globe, which he is turning round leisurely, and "for his own recreation," as, according to Sir Thomas Browne, a philosopher should turn round the orb of which that globe professes to be the representation and effigies. My mother having just adorned a very small... more...

THE HAUNTED AND THE HAUNTERS; OR, THE HOUSE AND THE BRAIN. * * * * * A friend of mine, who is a man of letters and a philosopher, said to me one day, as if between jest and earnest, "Fancy! since we last met I have discovered a haunted house in the midst of London." "Really haunted,—and by what?—ghosts?" "Well, I can't answer that question; all I know is this: six weeks ago my wife and I were in search of a furnished apartment.... more...