1910. The novel begins: Late one fall afternoon, in the year 1898, a train paused for a moment before crossing a bridge over a river. From it descended a heavyset, elderly man. The train immediately proceeded on its way. The heavyset man looked about him. The river and the bottom-land growths of willow and hardwood were hemmed in, as far as he could see, by low-wooded hills. Only the railroad bridge, the steep embankment of the right-of-way, and a small, painted, windowless structure next the water met his eye as the handiwork of man. The windowless structure was bleak, deserted and obviously locked by a strong padlock and hasp. Nevertheless, the man, throwing on his shoulder a canvas duffle-bag with handles, made his way down the steep railway embankment, across a plank over the ditch, and to the edge of the water. Here he dropped his bag heavily, and looked about him with an air of comical dismay. See other titles by this author available from Kessinger Publishing.

This Is A New Release Of The Original 1910 Edition.

1910. The novel begins: Late one fall afternoon, in the year 1898, a train paused for a moment before crossing a bridge over a river. From it descended a heavyset, elderly man. The train immediately proceeded on its way. The heavyset man looked about him. The river and the bottom-land growths of willow and hardwood were hemmed in, as far as he could see, by low-wooded hills. Only the railroad bridge, the steep embankment of the right-of-way, and a small, painted, windowless structure next the water met his eye as the handiwork of man. The windowless structure was bleak, deserted and obviously locked by a strong padlock and hasp. Nevertheless, the man, throwing on his shoulder a canvas duffle-bag with handles, made his way down the steep railway embankment, across a plank over the ditch, and to the edge of the water. Here he dropped his bag heavily, and looked about him with an air of comical dismay. See other titles by this author available from Kessinger Publishing.

This scarce antiquarian book is a selection from Kessinger Publishing's Legacy Reprint Series. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment to protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature. Kessinger Publishing is the place to find hundreds of thousands of rare and hard-to-find books with something of interest for everyone!

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: PART II FLESH, SPIRIT AND THE VEILED GOD Mr. Randolph spent the day getting acquainted and proved himself a good mixer. By telling a few stories that had not yet sifted down from Club-land and by standing a few drinks he soon found himself made free of all the technical information he needed and some more that was so ultra-technical that it could beat the brains that invented the delicate mechanism of the taximeter. He also established part ownership in a comfortable room in a house very much on the wrong or west side of Broadway, in fact within smelling and almost spitting distance of the North River. While he was still in funds he bought himself a woolen khaki overcoat with one of those enormous collars which look like an inverted bucket when they are up and surpass in efficiency the traditional black mask so beloved by illustrators of the weekly press. He also had a speaking slot cut in the glass of the cab-window just behind his best ear and subsequently removed and lost the slide that had been fitted over it with considerable skill and trouble. During the next few nights he proceeded to have the time of his life; so much so that he was constantly overwhelmed with wonder at his stupidity in not having become a taxi-driver years before It should be remembered that Mr. Randolph was of New York Yorky; he knew everybody casually, from Mr. Milyuns and his daughter, Eileen, down to the latest addition to the pitiful ranks of the midinette. More than that, so broad was his acquaintanceship that as a sporting gent he had once or twice been tipped off as to the where and when of a proposed gun-play. In addition to being by right of birth an integral part of all the social strata of Manhattan, he knew the surface of the island and of the adjacent commoner soil of the mai...

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: PART II FLESH, SPIRIT AND THE VEILED GOD Mr. Randolph spent the day getting acquainted and proved himself a good mixer. By telling a few stories that had not yet sifted down from Club-land and by standing a few drinks he soon found himself made free of all the technical information he needed and some more that was so ultra-technical that it could beat the brains that invented the delicate mechanism of the taximeter. He also established part ownership in a comfortable room in a house very much on the wrong or west side of Broadway, in fact within smelling and almost spitting distance of the North River. While he was still in funds he bought himself a woolen khaki overcoat with one of those enormous collars which look like an inverted bucket when they are up and surpass in efficiency the traditional black mask so beloved by illustrators of the weekly press. He also had a speaking slot cut in the glass of the cab-window just behind his best ear and subsequently removed and lost the slide that had been fitted over it with considerable skill and trouble. During the next few nights he proceeded to have the time of his life; so much so that he was constantly overwhelmed with wonder at his stupidity in not having become a taxi-driver years before It should be remembered that Mr. Randolph was of New York Yorky; he knew everybody casually, from Mr. Milyuns and his daughter, Eileen, down to the latest addition to the pitiful ranks of the midinette. More than that, so broad was his acquaintanceship that as a sporting gent he had once or twice been tipped off as to the where and when of a proposed gun-play. In addition to being by right of birth an integral part of all the social strata of Manhattan, he knew the surface of the island and of the adjacent commoner soil of the mai...

1910. The novel begins: Late one fall afternoon, in the year 1898, a train paused for a moment before crossing a bridge over a river. From it descended a heavyset, elderly man. The train immediately proceeded on its way. The heavyset man looked about him. The river and the bottom-land growths of willow and hardwood were hemmed in, as far as he could see, by low-wooded hills. Only the railroad bridge, the steep embankment of the right-of-way, and a small, painted, windowless structure next the water met his eye as the handiwork of man. The windowless structure was bleak, deserted and obviously locked by a strong padlock and hasp. Nevertheless, the man, throwing on his shoulder a canvas duffle-bag with handles, made his way down the steep railway embankment, across a plank over the ditch, and to the edge of the water. Here he dropped his bag heavily, and looked about him with an air of comical dismay. See other titles by this author available from Kessinger Publishing.