Books with author D Lewis

"Goblin, lead them up and down." The ruddy glow of sunset was already fading into the sombre shadows of night, when two travellers might have been observed swiftly-at a pace of six miles in the hour-descending the rugged side of a mountain; the younger bounding from crag to crag with the agility of a fawn, while his companion, whose aged limbs seemed ill at ease in the heavy chain armour habitually worn by tourists in that district, toiled on painfully at his side. As is always the case under such circumstances, the younger knight was the first to break the silence. "A goodly pace, I trow!" he exclaimed. "We sped not thus in the ascent!" "Goodly, indeed!" the other echoed with a groan. "We clomb it but at three miles in the hour." "And on the dead level our pace is--?" the younger suggested; for he was weak in statistics, and left all such details to his aged companion.

Kitten, an American tabby residing in England, is a frustrated cat. He knows his place in the world: he was born to kill. Killing, after all, is what felines are supposed to do. Confined within his Lady's house, however, the young fellow is deprived of the opportunity to hunt live prey. The mansion is a sterile playground for a predator; offering nothing more than furniture which allows itself to be brutalized far too easily. The ambitious cat is bored and hungry for a challenge. Kitten learns of a passage hidden in his Lady's library: the Door, which leads to an unknown world. The cat has been told that the source of all evil dwells openly in this place. The feline is eager to fight the sinister personage and goes through the Door with no hesitation. The tabby finds himself in what appears to be a forest like any other in England. It doesn't take long for him to learn that this is a very different place. Written in the style of classic fantasies, this novel can be appreciated on different levels. To some readers, it's an allegorical tale: thought-provoking and filled with symbolism. To others, it's an adventure-filled page-turner. This book can be read as a stand-alone novel (doesn't end with a cliff-hanger) but there is a second (concluding) volume available entitled FINALE.

Kitten, an American tabby residing in England, is a frustrated cat. He knows his place in the world: he was born to kill. Killing, after all, is what felines are supposed to do. Confined within his Lady's house, however, the young fellow is deprived of the opportunity to hunt live prey. The mansion is a sterile playground for a predator; offering nothing more than furniture which allows itself to be brutalized far too easily. The ambitious cat is bored and hungry for a challenge. Kitten learns of a passage hidden in his Lady's library: the Door, which leads to an unknown world. The cat has been told that the source of all evil dwells openly in this place. The feline is eager to fight the sinister personage and goes through the Door with no hesitation. The tabby finds himself in what appears to be a forest like any other in England. It doesn't take long for him to learn that this is a very different place. Written in the style of classic fantasies, this novel can be appreciated on different levels. To some readers, it's an allegorical tale: thought-provoking and filled with symbolism. To others, it's an adventure-filled page-turner. This book can be read as a stand-alone novel (doesn't end with a cliff-hanger) but there is a second (concluding) volume available, entitled FINALE.

One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it:-it was the black kitten's fault entirely. For the white kitten had been having its face washed by the old cat for the last quarter of an hour (and bearing it pretty well, considering); so you see that it couldn't have had any hand in the mischief. The way Dinah washed her children's faces was this: first she held the poor thing down by its ear with one paw, and then with the other paw she rubbed its face all over, the wrong way, beginning at the nose: and just now, as I said, she was hard at work on the white kitten, which was lying quite still and trying to purr-no doubt feeling that it was all meant for its good. But the black kitten had been finished with earlier in the afternoon, and so, while Alice was sitting curled up in a corner of the great arm-chair, half talking to herself and half asleep, the kitten had been having a grand game of romps with the ball of worsted Alice had been trying to wind up, and had been rolling it up and down till it had all come undone again; and there it was, spread over the hearth-rug, all knots and tangles, with the kitten running after its own tail in the middle.