Mary E Wilkins Freeman Books In Order

Novels

  1. Jane Field (1892)
  2. Giles Corey, Yeoman (1893)
  3. Pembroke (1894)
  4. Madelon (1896)
  5. Jerome, A Poor Man (1897)
  6. Evelina’s Garden (1899)
  7. The Jamesons (1899)
  8. The Heart’s Highway (1900)
  9. The Debtor (1905)
  10. By the Light of the Soul (1906)
  11. Doc. Gordon (1906)
  12. The Shoulders of Atlas (1908)
  13. The Whole Family (1908)
  14. The Green Door (1910)
  15. The Butterfly House (1912)
  16. The Yates Pride (1912)
  17. An Alabaster Box (1917)

Collections

  1. The Adventures of Ann (1886)
  2. A Humble Romance (1887)
  3. A New England Nun (1891)
  4. The Pot of Gold (1892)
  5. People of Our Neighborhood (1898)
  6. Silence (1898)
  7. In Colonial Times (1899)
  8. The Love of Parson Lord (1900)
  9. Understudies (1901)
  10. A Far-Away melody (1902)
  11. Six Trees (1903)
  12. The Wind in the Rose-bush (1903)
  13. The Givers (1904)
  14. The Fair Lavinia (1907)
  15. The Winning Lady (1909)
  16. The Copy-Cat (1914)
  17. Edgewater People (1918)
  18. Best Stories of Mary E. Wilkins (1927)
  19. Collected Ghost Stories (1974)
  20. Selected Stories of Mary E. Wilkins Freeman (1991)
  21. The Revolt of Mother (1992)
  22. The Uncollected Stories of Mary Wilkins Freeman (1992)
  23. Mary Wilkins Freeman Reader (1997)

Non fiction

  1. The Portion of Labor (1901)
  2. The Infant Sphinx (1985)

Novels Book Covers

Collections Book Covers

Non fiction Book Covers

Mary E Wilkins Freeman Books Overview

Jane Field

Jane Field 1892 ILLUSTRATIONS. AIARY E. WILKINS…

. . I oj ti iece I WISH YOU WOUI, DNT BE IN SUCH…

. . A HURRY Facesja e I0 SHE TOOK THE CHILDS LITTLE HAND 6 20 AIRS. FIELD STOOD BY THE FRONT GATE, LOOKING DOWN THE ROAD 42 THEY STOOD LOOKING AT THE YOUNG…


. GIRL 50 SHE WATCHED HER MOTHER OUT OF SIGHT…



54 SHE WALKED ON, WITH HER STERN, IMPASSIVE OLD FACE SET STRAIGHT AHEAD…
84 FLORA AND THE CHILDREN RECEIVED THEM B E A I I N G I…
, . . 110 HOW CHEER UP, SAID HE…
50 THE MINISTER, hlR. IUXBURY, AND MRS. ROBBINSS HUSBAND ALL AR RIVED TOGETHER…

186 MRS. HENRY MAXWELL…

188 vi ILLUSTRATIONS. I DUN KNOW IIOW SHED MANAGE Facesjage 208 MRS. GREEN LOOKED TOWARDS THE COhlING TRAIN…

. 216 LOIS SAID NOTHING SHE BENT HER HOT FACE CLOSER OVER WORK…

. OVE . R . H . ER . 220 I AINT ESTHER AXWELI,. IIER VOICE AROSE IN A STERN SHRIEK 260 Jane Field CHAPTER I AMANDA PRATTS cottage house was raised upon two banks above the road level. Here and there the banks showed irregular patches of yellow green, where a little milky stemmed plant grew. It had come up every spring since Amanda could remember. There was a great pink lined shell on each side of the front door step, and the path down over the banks to the road was bordered with smaller shells. The house was white, and the front door was dark green, with an old fashioned knocker in the centre. There were four front windows, and the roof sloped down to them two were in Amandas parlor, and two were in Mrs. I I Fields. She rented half of her house to Mrs. Jane Field. There was a head at each of Ama das front windows. One was hers, the other was Mrs. Babcocks. Amandas old blond face, with its folds of yellow gray hair over the ears and sections of the softly wrinkled, pinky cheeks, was bent over some needlevork. So was Mrs. Babcocks, darkly dim with age, as if the hearth fires of her life J had always smoked, with a loose flabbiness about the jaw bones, which seemed to make more evident the firm structure underneath. Amanda was sewing a braided rug her little veiny hands jerked the stout thread through with a nervous energy that was out of accord with her calm expression and the droop of her long slender body. Its pretty hard sewin braided mats, aint i t said Mrs. Babcock. I dont care how hard tis if I can get em sewed strong, replied Amanda, and her voice was unexpectedly quick and decided. I never had any feelin that anything was hard, if I could only do it. Well, you aint had so much hard work to do a’s some folks. Settin in a rockinchair sewin braided mats aint like doin the housework for a whole family. If youd had the cookin to do for four menfolks, the way I have, youd felt it was pretty hard work, even if you did make out to fill em up. Mrs. Babcock smiled, and showed that she did not forget she was company, but her tone was quite fierce. Mebbe I should, returned Amanda, stiffly. There was a silence. Let me see, how many mats does that make Mrs. Babcock asked, finally, in an amiable voice. Like this one Yes. This makes the ninth. Mrs. Babcock scrutinized the floor. It was almost covered with braided rugs, and they were all alike. I declare I dont see where youll put another in here, said she. I guess I can lay em a little thicker over there by the what not. Well, mebbe you can but I declare I shouldnt scarcely think you needed another. I shouldnt think your carpet would wear out till the day of judgment…

Pembroke

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: CHAPTER III When Cephas Barnard and his wife and daughter turned into the main road and came in sight of the new house, not one of them appeared to even glance at it, yet they all saw at once that there were no workmen about, and they also saw Barnabas himself ploughing with a white horse far back in a field at the left of it. They all kept on silently. Charlotte paled a little when she caught sight of Barney, but her face was quite steady. ‘ Hold your dress up a little higher; the grass is terrible wet,’ her mother whispered once, and that was all that any of them said until they reached home. Charlotte went at once up stairs to her own chamber, took off her purple gown, and hung it up in her closet, and got out a common one. The purple gown was part of her wedding wardrobe, and she had worn it in advance with some misgivings. ‘ I dunno but you might jest as well wear it a few Sundays,’ her mother had said; ‘ you’re goin’ to have your silk dress to come out bride in. I dunno as there’s any sense in your goin’ lookin’ like a scarecrow all the spring because you’re goin’ to get married.’ So Charlotte had put on the new purple dress the day before; now it looked, as it hung in the closet, like an effigy of her happier self. When Charlotte went down stairs she found her mother showing much more spirit than usual in an altercation with her father. Sarah Barnard stood before her husband, her placid face all knitted with perplexed remonstrance. ‘ Why, I can’t, Cephas,’ she said. ‘ Pies can’t be made that way.’ ‘ I know they can,’ said Cephas. ‘ They can’t, Cephas. There ain’t no use tryin’. It would jest be a waste of the flour.’ ‘ Why can’t they, I’d like to know 2’ ‘ Folks don’t ever make pies without lard, Cephas.’ ‘ Why don’t they 2’ ‘ Why, they w…

Madelon

Mary Eleanor Wilkins Freeman was a prominent nineteenth century American author. She was born in Randolph, Massachusetts, and attended Mount Holyoke College and West Brattleboro Seminary. Freeman began writing stories and verse for children while still a teenager to help support her family. She produced more than two dozen volumes of published short stories and novels. She is best known for two collections of stories, A Humble Romance and Other Stories 1887 and A New England Nun and Other Stories 1891. Her stories deal mostly with New England life. Freeman is also remembered for her novel Pembroke 1894. In April 1926, Freeman became the first recipient of the William Dean Howells Medal for Distinction in Fiction from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. In Madelon, Mrs. Freeman presents a romantic triangle, with a girl who has French and Indian blood is loved by two cousins, Lot and Burr. Madelon loves Burr, but Burr is unable to admit his feelings, and believes he loves Dorothy Fair. Events leave Burr imprisoned unjustly, Lot gravely wounded and in danger of dying, and Madelon willing to doom herself to save Burr. Madelon was adapted as a film called False Evidence in 1919.

Jerome, A Poor Man

Mary E. Wilkins Freeman was born in Randolph, Massachusetts and at fifteen moved with her family to Brattleboro, Vermont. In 1884, left without any immediate family, she returned to Randolph, where she lived for almost twenty years with her childhood friend Mary Wales. She began to write seriously in the 1970s, and in the early 1880s her work began to appear in such popular magazines as Harper’s Bazaar and Harper’s Monthly Magazine. At forty nine Mary E. Wilkins married Charles Manning Freeman, a New Jersey physician, and moved to Metuchen. Thereafter she wrote under the name Mary E. Wilkins Freeman. In April 1926, she received the William Dean Howells Medal for Fiction from the American Academy of Arts and Letters; later that year she was among the first women to be elected to membership in the National Institute of Art and Letters.

Evelina’s Garden

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The Jamesons

Mary Eleanor Wilkins Freeman 1852 1930 was a prominent female American writer known for her short stories and novels of life in New England villages. Freeman began writing stories and verse for children while still a teenager to help support her family and was quickly successful. She produced more than two dozen volumes of published short stories and novels. She is best known for two collections of stories; A Humble Romance and Other Stories, 1887 and A New England Nun and Other Stories 1891. Her stories deal mostly with New England life and are among the best of their kind. Freeman is also remembered for her novel Pembroke 1894.

The Heart’s Highway

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The narrative charmingly depicts the enduring power of love. The influence of feelings and emotions shapes and builds the character. Bliss for those who experience it, Freeman has made it a blessing for the reader as well. Portraying the deep love in its true form, she has created an enchanting story that engulfs the imagination.

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The Debtor

Six months after Arthur’s attempt to purchase back his ancestral acres, a man came to him with a proposal for him to furnish on contract a large quantity of coal for the railroad. Arthur jumped at the chance. The contract was drawn up by a lawyer in the nearest town and signed. Arthur, trusting blindly to the honesty and good will of everybody, had hurried for his train without seeing more than that the stipulated rates had been properly mentioned in the contract. His wife was ill; in fact, their daughter was only a few days old, and he was anxious and eager to be home. There had been no strikes at that period in that vicinity, and indeed comparatively few in the whole country. Arthur would almost as soon have thought of guarding in his contract against an earthquake; but the strike clause was left out, and there was a strike. In consequence he was unable to fill the contract without ruin, and he was therefore ruined. In the end the old friend of his father, who had purchased his patrimony, remained in undisputed possession of it, with an additional value of several thousands from the passage of the railroad through one end of the plantation, and had, besides, the mine. Arthur had sold the mine at a nominal price to pay his debts, to a third party who represented this man. He had been left actually penniless with a wife and two babies to support, but as his pocket became empty his very soul had seemed to become full to overflowing with the rage and bitterness of his worldly experience.

By the Light of the Soul

As was the custom a young man had charge of the meeting and he stood with a sort of embarrassed dignity on the little platform behind the desk. He was reading a selection from the Bible. Maria heard him drone out in a scarcely audible voice: ‘Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth ‘ and then she heard in a quick response a soft sob from the seat behind her.’ Excerpt from Chapter 1

Doc. Gordon

The ground was covered with white frost, the trees, the house roofs, the very air, were all white. In the west a transparent moon was slowly sinking; the east deepened with red and violet tints. Then came the sun, upheaving above the horizon like a ship of glory, and all the whiteness burned, and glowed, and radiated jewel lights. James looked about with the delight of a discoverer. It might have been his first morning. He begun to meet men going to their work, swinging tin dinner pails. Even these humble pails became glorified, they gave back the sunlight like burnished silver. He smelled the odors of breakfast upon the men’s clothes. He held up his head high with a sort of good humored arrogance as he passed. He would have fought to the death for any one of these men, but he knew himself, quite innocently, upon superior heights of education, and trained thought, and ambition. He met a man swinging a pail; he was coughing: a wretched, long rattle of a cough. James stopped him, opened his little medicine case, and produced some pellets. ‘Here, take one of these every hour until the cough is relieved, my friend,’ said he. The man stared, swallowed a pellet, stared again, in an odd, suspicious, surly fashion, muttered something unintelligible and passed on.

The Shoulders of Atlas

Henry Whitman was walking home from the shop in the April afternoon. The spring was very early that year. The meadows were quite green and in the damp hollows the green assumed a violet tinge sometimes from violets themselves sometimes from the shadows. The trees already showed shadows as of a multitude of bird wings; the peach trees stood aloof in rosy nimbuses and the cherry trees were faintly a flutter with white through an intense gloss of gold green.’ Excerpt from Chapter 1

The Butterfly House

Lottie opened the door, and a masculine voice was heard. Mrs. Slade had a storm porch, so no one could look directly into the hall. ‘Is Mrs. Slade at home?’ inquired the voice distinctly. The ladies looked at one another, and Miss Bessy Dicky’s reading was unheard. They all knew who spoke. Lottie appeared with a crimson face, bearing a little ostentatious silver plate with a card. Mrs. Slade adjusted her lorgnette, looked at the card, and appeared to hesitate for a second. Then a look of calm determination overspread her face. She whispered to Lottie, and presently appeared a young man in clerical costume, moving between the seated groups of ladies with an air not so much of embarrassment as of weary patience, as if he had expected something like this to happen, and it had happened. Mrs. Slade motioned to a chair near her, which Lottie had placed, and the young man sat down.

The Yates Pride

Right upon the announcement came proof. The beautiful door of the old colonial mansion opposite was thrown open, and clumsy and cautious motion was evident. Presently a tall, slender woman came down the path between the box borders, pushing a baby carriage. It was undoubtedly a very old carriage. It must have dated back to the fifties, if not the forties. It was made of wood, with a leather buggy top, and was evidently very heavy.

An Alabaster Box

Mrs. Solomon Black had revealed the state of affairs, that morning. ‘You may as well know,’ said she. ‘There ain’t a cent to pay you, and I said when you came that if we couldn’t pay for gospel privileges we should all take to our closets and pray like Sam Hill, and no charge; but they wouldn’t listen to me, though I spoke right out in conference meeting and it’s seldom a woman does that, you know. Folks in this place have been hanging onto the ragged edge of nothing so long they don’t seem to sense it. They thought the money of your salary was going to be brought down from heaven by a dove or something, when all the time, those wicked flying things are going round on the other side of the earth, and there don’t seem as if there could be a dove left. Well, now that the time’s come when you ought to be paid, if there’s any decency left in this place, they comes to me and says, ‘Oh, Mrs. Black, what shall we do?’ I said, ‘Why didn’t you listen when I spoke out in meeting about our not being able to afford luxuries like gospel preaching?’ and they said they thought matters would have improved by this time. Improved! How, I’d like to know? The whole world is sliding down hill faster and faster every minute, and folks in Brookville think matters are going to improve, when they are sliding right along with the Emperor of Germany and the King of England, and all the rest of the big bugs…
.’

The Adventures of Ann

Mary Eleanor Wilkins-Freeman 1852-1930 was a prominent female American writer known for her short stories and novels of life in New England villages. Freeman began writing stories and verse for children while still a teenager to help support her family and was quickly successful. She produced more than two dozen volumes of published short stories and novels. She is best known for two collections of stories; A Humble Romance and Other Stories, 1887 and A New England Nun and Other Stories 1891. Her stories deal mostly with New England life and are among the best of their kind. Freeman is also remembered for her novel Pembroke 1894.

A Humble Romance

He caught hold of the girl by her slender shoulders and faced her round towards him. She turned pale, and gave a smothered scream.

‘Thar! thar! don’t you go to being afeard of me,’ said the peddler. ‘I wouldn’t hurt you for the whole world. I jest want to take a squar look at you. You’re the worst-off-lookin’ little cretur I ever set my eyes on.’

She looked up at him pitifully, still only half reassured. There were inflamed circles around her dilated blue eyes.

‘You’ve been cryin’, ain’t you?’

The girl nodded meekly. ‘Please let me go,’ she said.

‘Yes, I’ll let you go; but I’m a-goin’ to ask you a few questions first, an’ I want you to answer ’em, for I’ll be hanged ef I ever see — Ain’t she good to you?’ — indicating Mrs. King with a wave of his hand toward the door through which she had departed.

‘Yes, she’s good enough, I guess.’

‘Don’t ever scold you, hey?’

‘I don’ know; I guess so, sometimes.’

‘Did this mornin’, didn’t she?’

‘A little. I was kinder behind with the work.’

‘Keeps you workin’ pretty stiddy, don’t she?’

‘Yes; thar’s consider’ble to do this time o’ year.’

‘Cookin’ for hired men, I s’pose, and butter an’ milk?’

‘Yes.’

‘How long hev you been livin’ here?’

‘She took me when I was little.’

‘Do you do anything besides work? — go round like other gals? — hev any good times?’

‘Sometimes.’ She said it doubtfully, as if casting about in her mind for reminiscences to prove the truth of it.

*

Also included in this volume are ‘Two Old Lovers,’ ‘A Symphony in Lavender,’ ‘A Tardy Thanksgiving,’ ‘A Modern Dragon,’ ‘An Honest Soul,’ ‘A Taste of Honey,’ ‘Brakes and White Vi’lets,’ ‘Robins and Hammers,’ ‘On the Walpole Road,’ ‘Old Lady Pingree,’ ‘Cinnamon Roses,’ ‘The Bar Light-house,’ ‘A Lover of Flowers,’ ‘A Faraway Melody,’ ‘A Moral Exigency,’ ‘A Mistaken Charity,’ ‘Gentian,’ ‘An Object of Love,’ ‘A Gatherer of Simples,’ ‘An Independent Thinker,’ ‘In Butterfly Time,’ ‘An Unwilling Guest,’ ‘A Souvenir,’ ‘An Old Arithmetician,’ ‘A Conflict Ended,’ ‘A Patient Waiter,’ ‘A Conquest of Humility.’

A New England Nun

From ‘A New England Nun‘: It was late in the afternoon, and the light was waning. There was a difference in the look of the tree shadows out in the yard. Somewhere in the distance cows were lowing and a little bell was tinkling; now and then a farm wagon tilted by, and the dust flew; some blue shirted laborers with shovels over their shoulders plodded past; little swarms of flies were dancing up and down before the peoples’ faces in the soft air. There seemed to be a gentle stir arising over everything for the mere sake of subsidence a very premonition of rest and hush and night. This soft diurnal commotion was over Louisa Ellis also. She had been peacefully sewing at her sitting room window all the afternoon. Now she quilted her needle carefully into her work, which she folded precisely, and laid in a basket with her thimble and thread and scissors. Louisa Ellis could not remember that ever in her life she had mislaid one of these little feminine appurtenances, which had become, from long use and constant association, a very part of her personality. Also includes ‘A New England Nun,’ ‘A Village Singer,’ ‘A Gala Dress,’ ‘The Twelfth Guest,’ ‘Sister Liddy,’ ‘Calla Lilies and Hannah,’ ‘A Wayfaring Couple,’ ‘A Poetess,’ ‘Christmas Jenny,’ ‘A Pot of Gold,’ ‘The Scent of the Roses,’ ‘A Solitary,’ ‘A Gentle Ghost,’ ‘A Discovered Pearl,’ ‘A Village Lear,’ ‘Amanda and Love,’ ‘Up Primrose Hill,’ ‘A Stolen Christmas,’ ‘Life Everlastin’,’ ‘An Innocent Gamester,’ ‘Louisa,’ ‘A Church Mouse,’ ‘A Kitchen Colonel,’ ‘The Revolt of ‘Mother.”

People of Our Neighborhood

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Silence

This is a pre 1923 historical reproduction that was curated for quality. Quality assurance was conducted on each of these books in an attempt to remove books with imperfections introduced by the digitization process. Though we have made best efforts the books may have occasional errors that do not impede the reading experience. We believe this work is culturally important and have elected to bring the book back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide.

The Love of Parson Lord

This is a pre 1923 historical reproduction that was curated for quality. Quality assurance was conducted on each of these books in an attempt to remove books with imperfections introduced by the digitization process. Though we have made best efforts the books may have occasional errors that do not impede the reading experience. We believe this work is culturally important and have elected to bring the book back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. This text refers to the Bibliobazaar edition.

A Far-Away melody

These little stories were written about the village people of New England. They are studies of the descendants of the Massachusetts Bay colonists, in whom can still be seen traces of those features of will and conscience, so strong as to be almost exaggerations and deformities, which characterized their ancestors. These traces are, however, more evident among the older people; among the younger, they are dimmer and more modified. It therefore seems better worth the while to try to preserve in literature still more of this old and probably disappearing type of New England character, although it has been done with the best results by other American authors. I hope these studies of the serious and self restrained New England villagers may perhaps give the people of Old England a kindly interest in them, and I have accepted with pleasure the proposal of Mr. Douglas to include A Faraway Melody in his ‘Series of American Authors.’ M.E.W. Dec. 5th, 1889

The Wind in the Rose-bush

MARY E. WILKINS FREEMAN 1852 1930 was best known in her own day as a regional writer, for her stories depicting the bleak life of the New England rural populace of her day. Her best collections in his mode are A HUMBLE ROMANCE AND OTHER STORIES 1887 and A NEW ENGLAND NUN AND OTHER STORIES 1891. She is probably better remembered today for her ghost stories, first collected in THE WIND IN THE ROSE BUSH AND OTHER STORIES OF THE SUPERNATURAL 1903, which likewise makes use of deftly observed regional detail. This collection includes her best known story, ‘The Shadows On the Wall,’ which H.P. Lovecraft praised for its ‘consummate skill’ in the depiction of ‘a staid New England household to uncanny tragedy.’

The Givers

Originally published in 1904. This volume from the Cornell University Library’s print collections was scanned on an APT BookScan and converted to JPG 2000 format by Kirtas Technologies. All titles scanned cover to cover and pages may include marks notations and other marginalia present in the original volume.

The Fair Lavinia

This Elibron Classics edition is a facsimile reprint of a 1907 edition by Harper & Brothers, New York and London.

The Copy-Cat

Mary Eleanor Wilkins Freeman was a 19th century American writer. Her parents were Congregationalists. Her strict religious upbringing plays an important role in her writing. A Humble Romance and Other Stories 1887 and A New England Nun and Other Stories 1891 were her best known works. Her stories were usually set in New England. Freeman wrote part of the collective novel The Whole Family. Copy Cat and Other Stories contains The copy cat The cock of the walk Johnny in the woods Daniel and little Dan’l Big sister Solly Little Lucy Rose Noblesse Coronation The amethyst comb The umbrella man The balking of Christopher and Dear Annie

Edgewater People

Villages, as well as people, exist subject to laws of change, increase, final dissolution. They have character, complex, of course, still individual. It is interesting to watch the inevitable result when a village of large area and restricted population increases in population as years go on. The one village becomes impossible. It is like a bulb of several years’ growth. If life and bloom are to continue, separation into component parts is indicated. The original village becomes several, and yet the first characteristics are never entirely lost. In the village of Barr exactly this process ensued with the increase of population. Instead of one sparsely populated village covering a large land area, there were four Barr Center, the Barr Center, South Barr, Barr by the Sea, and Leicester. Each had its own government, each village was an entity, and yet the original entity of Barr remained indestructible. The Edgewater family stamped the four villages with their individuality; so did the Leicesters; so did the Sylvesters; so did all strongly rooted families. The stories in this volume relate to families living in patriarchal fashion, although not under one roof, under one village tree…
. Includes ‘Sarah Edgewater,’ ‘The Old Man of the Field,’ ‘The Voice of the Clock,’ ‘Value Received,’ ‘The Flowering Bush,’ ‘The Outside of the House,’ ‘The Liar,’ ‘Sour Sweetings,’ ‘Both Cheeks,’ ‘The Soldier Man,’ ‘The Ring with the Green Stone,’ and ‘A Retreat to the Goal.’

The Revolt of Mother

Eight poignant tales vividly portray patient, self reliant hero*ines living in small New England villages . Well known title story plus ‘A New England Nun,’ ‘Old Woman Magoun,’ ‘Gentian,’ ‘One Good Time,’ ‘The Selfishness of Amelia Lamkin,’ ‘The Apple Tree,’ and ‘The Butterfly.’ An excellent sampling of regional work by one of America’s best known women writers.

The Uncollected Stories of Mary Wilkins Freeman

Few who appreciate the heritage of the short story would question Mary Wilkins Freeman’s important position in turn of the century American fiction or her major contributions to the development of the short story form. Freeman 1852 1930, one of the first women elected to the National Institute of Arts and Letters 1927, was a regional writer who excelled in the careful delineation of local characters and customs and in exact transcription of indigenous dialect. She also is noted for her contribution to modern psychological literature. This volume brings together for the first time twenty of the best of her ‘lost’ tales. It contributes to the growing reevaluation of this exceptional author of such often anthologized stories as ‘The ‘Revolt’ of Mother’ and ‘A New England Nun.’ The stories in this volume are chronologically arranged. They reveal both familiar and new terrain. Freeman once again delves into the inner lives of New England women. Yet, unlike many of her well known stories, in these there are new moods and experiments. Four stories involve male protagonists. Three are mystery stories. Three are tales of women artists. Two illustrate Freeman’s attempt in her later fiction to incorporate ‘modern’ themes. A prolific writer, Freeman published nearly two hundred fifty short stories during her lifetime. Almost a hundred of those stories, however, were not collected. For more than half a century they have remained virtually inaccessible. This volume brings together twenty of the best of Freeman’s uncollected stories from such magazines as Century, Collier’s, Harper’s Monthly, Good Housekeeping, The Golden Book, Woman’s Home Companion, Independent, and Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly. This collection restores significant works to the treasury of American literature. Mary R. Reichardt is a professor of English at the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Mary Wilkins Freeman Reader

Mary Wilkins Freeman 1852 1930, born in Randolph, Massachusetts, began to publish stories about New England in the early 1880s. In the following decades, Freeman drew widespread praise for her intimate portraits of women and her realistic depictions of rural New England life. She published short stories, essays, novels, plays, and children’s books. Her stories, written in a clear and direct prose, are remarkable for their unpretentious, sympathetic portrayals of the lives of ordinary New Englanders of Freeman s era. Many of the stories depict rebellion against oppressive social and private conditions. Others describe conflicting desires for independence and lasting relationships. This volume of twenty eight stories is the first to provide a representative sample of Freeman s finest work, from all phases of her career. It makes plain why Freeman in the words of editor Mary R. Reichardt is widely recognized as an important figure in the history of American women s fiction…
and the development of the American short story.

The Portion of Labor

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: CHAPTER III By the next morning all the city was in a commotion over little Ellen’s disappearance. Woods on the outskirts were being searched, ponds were being dragged, posters with a stare of dreadful meaning in large characters of black and white were being pasted all over the fences and available barns, and already three of the local editors had been to the Brewster house to obtain particulars and photographs of the missing child for reproduction in the city papers. The first train from Boston brought two reporters representing great dailies. Fanny Brewster, white cheeked, with the rasped redness of tears around her eyes and mouth, clad in her blue calico wrapper, received them in her best parlor. Eva had made a fire in the best parlor stove early that morning. ‘Folks will be comin’ in all day, I expect,’ said she, speaking with nervous catches of her breath. Ever since the child had been missed, Eva’s anxiety had driven her from point to point of unrest as with a stinging lash. She had pelted bareheaded down the road and up the road; she had invaded all the neighbors’ houses, insisting upon looking through their farthest and most unlikely closets; she had even penetrated to the woods, and joined wild eyed the groups of peering workers on the shore of the nearest pond. That she could not endure long, so she had rushed home to her sister, who was either pacing her sitting room with inarticulate murmurs and wails of distress in the sympathizing ears of several of the neighboring women,or else was staring with haggard eyes of fearful hope from a window. When she looked from the eastern window she could see her mother in law, Mrs. Zelotes Brewster, at an opposite one, sitting immovable, with her Bible in her lap, prayer in her heart, and an eye of grim holding to faith u…

The Infant Sphinx

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