Fiction Books

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there are several questions you would like to ask at the very beginning of this history. First: Who is the Monarch of Mo? And why is he called the Magical Monarch? And where is Mo, anyhow? And why have you never heard of it before? And can it be reached by a railroad or a trolley-car, or must one walk all the way? These questions I realize should be answered before we (that "we" means you and... more...

LIST of the SUBSCRIBERS, A. Copies. SIR. John St. Aubyn, of Clowance, Baronet 20Rev. Mr. Jerveys Allen, of HelstonThomas Saunders Allen of St. Just, Attorney at LawAlexander Allen, Purser of the Wolf Sloop of WarJohn Antony, of St. IvesJohn Antony, junior, of St. Ives B. Joseph Beard, of PenzanceJohn Batten, jun. of ditto, MerchantJoseph Batten, of dittoJohn Blewett, Esq. of Marazion 4George Borlase,... more...

CHAPTER I THE SERMON THAT WAS NEVER PREACHED A little party of men and women on bicycles were pushing their machines up the steep ascent which formed the one street of Feldwick village. It was a Sunday morning, and the place was curiously empty. Their little scraps of gay conversation and laughter—they were men and women of the smart world—seemed to strike almost a pagan note in a deep Sabbatical... more...

CHAPTER I. CHARLESTON, SEPTEMBER 27th, 1869.—It is high tide, and three o'clock in the afternoon when we leave the Battery-quay; the ebb carries us off shore, and as Captain Huntly has hoisted both main and top sails, the northerly breeze drives the "Chancellor" briskly across the bay. Fort Sumter ere long is doubled, the sweeping batteries of the mainland on our left are soon passed,... more...

In the fereful tyme of the sweate (ryghte honourable) many resorted vnto me for counseil, among whõe some beinge my frendes & aquaintance, desired me to write vnto them some litle counseil howe to gouerne themselues therin: saiyng also that I should do a greate pleasure to all my frendes and contrimen, if I would deuise at my laisure some thÄ©g, whiche from tyme to tyme might remaine, wherto... more...

ACT I. (Sitting-room of the DeSmythe home; "confusion worse confounded;" everything topsy-turvy. Mrs. DeSmythe on couch; Madam Sateene and she looking over lace samples, of which they have a great number. Madam in "swell" street costume.) Mrs. De S. (tossing samples in a heap). There's positively nothing like it! Nothing anywhere near it! Madam No, and nothing that can be used.... more...

"When you come to reflect that there are only a few planks between you and the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, it makes you feel sort of pensive." "I beg your pardon?" The stranger, smoking his cigarette in the lee of the deck-cabins, turned his head sharply in the direction of the voice. He encountered the wide, unembarrassed gaze of a girl's grey eyes. She had evidently just come... more...

CHAPTER XXI. After our return to Falcon's Nest, I requested my sons to continue their exercises in gymnastics. I wished to develope all the vigour and energy that nature had given them; and which, in our situation, were especially necessary. I added to archery, racing, leaping, wrestling, and climbing trees, either by the trunks, or by a rope suspended from the branches, as sailors climb. I next... more...

Chapter 1 AN ENGLISH BOY'S HOME August the First, 19— Clarence Chugwater looked around him with a frown, and gritted his teeth. "England—my England!" he moaned. Clarence was a sturdy lad of some fourteen summers. He was neatly, but not gaudily, dressed in a flat-brimmed hat, a coloured handkerchief, a flannel shirt, a bunch of ribbons, a haversack, football shorts, brown boots, a... more...

George Harrison noticed the flashing red light on the instrument panel as he turned onto the bridge to Balboa Island. Just over the bridge, he pulled the car to the curb and flipped the switch with violence. "Harrison," he muttered. "How's the water, fella?" asked the voice of Bob Mills, his assistant. There was a beautiful moon over the island. The surf lapped at the tiers of the... more...