"What if I die under it?" The thought recurred again and again, as I walked home from Haddon's. It was a purely personal question. I was spared the deep anxieties of a married man, and I knew there were few of my intimate friends but would find my death troublesome chiefly on account of their duty of regret. I was surprised indeed, and perhaps a little humiliated, as I turned the matter over, to think how few could possibly exceed the conventional requirement.
Here he is again, the irrepressible Septimus Spink, in a tale as rollicking as an elder giant juggling the stars and the planets in his great, golden hands and laughing mirthfully as one tiny world--our own--goes spinning away from him into caverns measureless to man.
These four-and-twenty stories, though not by any means of equal merit, reach, on the whole, a good level of excellence. "The Chemistry of Anarchy" is in particular a capital tale. A young man entangles himself in some Anarchist plots, and is delivered by a scientific friend who finally frightens the revolu- tionists out of their wits. Somewhat resembling this is "A New Explosive." The recipient of a terrible secret thinks it best that secret and inventor should disappear together...
Arthur Granger, an aristocratic and unsuccessful novelist, betrays the ideals he prides himself on for the unrequited love of a young woman. And no ordinary woman, she, but an ethereal, goddess-like, nameless agent from a strange world.
a Message Found Among the Private Papers of the Princess Vera Zarovitch;Being a true and faithful account of her Journey to the Interior of the Earth, with a careful description of the Country and its Inhabitants,their Customs, Manners and Government.
A theoretical physicist and a programmer-turned-writer debate the nature of time. Through an imaginative conversation, the physicist explains to his friend that time does not flow, but is an illusion. Fascinated by the idea that the future already exists but he cannot remember it, the writer decides to capture this revelation in a story… although, in some “now” of the universe, he may have already written it.