Fiction Books

Busie is a name; it is the short for Esther-Liba: Libusa: Busie. She is a year older than I, perhaps two years. And both of us together are no more than twenty years old. Now, if you please, sit down and think it out for yourself. How old am I, and how old is she? But, it is no matter. I will rather tell you her history in a few words. My older brother, Benny, lived in a village. He had a mill. He... more...

I CONCERNING FANCY AND SAINT MARGARET'S Would it ever have happened at all if Trustee Day had not fallen on the 30th of April—which is May Eve, as everybody knows? This is something you must ask of those wiser than I, for I am only the story-teller, sitting in the shadow of the market-place, passing on the tale that comes to my ears. But I can remind you that May Eve is one of the most bewitched... more...

CHAPTER I THE SCHOLAR At the age of six Randall Byrne could name and bound every state in the Union and give the date of its admission; at nine he was conversant with Homeric Greek and Caesar; at twelve he read Aristophanes with perfect understanding of the allusions of the day and divided his leisure between Ovid and Horace; at fifteen, wearied by the simplicity of Old English and Thirteenth Century... more...

Two gentlemen were seated, one March morning in 189—, in the private office of French and Company, Limited, on lower Broadway. Mr. Kirby, the junior partner—a man of thirty-five, with brown hair and mustache, clean-cut, handsome features, and an alert manner, was smoking cigarettes almost as fast as he could roll them, and at the same time watching the electric clock upon the wall and getting up... more...

Esau Tankardew. Certainly, Mr Tankardew was not a pattern of cleanliness, either in his house or his person. Someone had said of him sarcastically, “that there was nothing clean in his house but his towels;” and there was a great deal of truth in the remark. He seemed to dwell in an element of cobwebs; the atmosphere in which he lived, rather than breathed, was apparently a mixture of fog and dust.... more...

CHAPTER I.                "Incubo. Look to the cavalier. What ails he?                      . . . . .               Hostess. And in such good clothes, too!"                        BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: Love's Pilgrimage.      "Theod. I have a brother—there my last hope!.              Thus... more...

PART I—SPRINGIHe walked along Holywell that afternoon of early June with his short gown drooping down his arms, and no cap on his thick dark hair. A youth of middle height, and built as if he had come of two very different strains, one sturdy, the other wiry and light. His face, too, was a curious blend, for, though it was strongly formed, its expression was rather soft and moody. His eyes—dark... more...

CHAPTER I THE OPEN RIVER The winter had broken early and the Scotch River was running ice-free and full from bank to bank. There was still snow in the woods, and with good sleighing and open rivers every day was golden to the lumbermen who had stuff to get down to the big water. A day gained now might save weeks at a chute farther down, where the rafts would crowd one another and strive for right of... more...

CHAPTER I HAUNTED HOUSES IN OR NEAR DUBLIN Of all species of ghostly phenomena, that commonly known as "haunted houses" appeals most to the ordinary person. There is something very eerie in being shut up within the four walls of a house with a ghost. The poor human being is placed at such a disadvantage. If we know that a gateway, or road, or field has the reputation of being haunted, we can in... more...

CHAPTER I. SOME OPINIONS AND A WEDDING "I, Bertram, take thee, Billy," chanted the white-robed clergyman. "'I, Bertram, take thee, Billy,'" echoed the tall young bridegroom, his eyes gravely tender. "To my wedded wife." "'To my wedded wife.'" The bridegroom's voice shook a little. "To have and to hold from this day forward." "'To... more...