Fiction Books

CHAPTER I THE FACE OF HATE It was three o'clock in the morning. Along a deserted pavement of Riverside Drive strode briskly a young man whose square-set shoulders and erect poise suggested a military training. His coat, thrown carelessly open to the cold night wind, displayed an expanse of white indicative of evening dress. As he walked his heels clicked sharply on the concrete with the forceful... more...

Sometimes, I know, I must seem a crotchety old man. "Old John Hanson," they call me, and roll their eyes as though to say, "Of course, you have to forgive him on account of his age." But the joke isn't always on me. Not infrequently I gain much amusement observing these cocky youngsters who strut in the blue-and-silver uniforms of the Service in which, until more or less recently,... more...

"The minister's got a job," said Mr. Snell. Mr. Snell had been driven in by a shower from the painting of a barn, and was now sitting, with one bedaubed overall leg crossed over the other, in Mr. Hamblin's shop. Half-a-dozen other men, who had likewise found in the rain a call to leisure, looked up at him inquiringly. "How do you mean?" said Mr. Noyes, who sat beside him, girt... more...

THE CLOCKMAKER OF POISSY. Foreseeing that some who do not love me will be swift to allege that in the preparation of these memoirs I have set down only such things as redound to my credit, and have suppressed the many experiences not so propitious which fall to the lot of the most sagacious while in power, I take this opportunity of refuting that calumny. For the truth stands so far the other way that... more...

May it please Your Majesty, To permit me to lay at your Feet the following Sheets, published with a View to be useful to those, who hereafter may have the Care of the Health of your Majesty’s Troops. Your Majesty’s particular Inquiries into the State of Your Military Hospitals, in every Quarter of the World, in the Time of the late glorious and successful War; Your Concern for every Officer and... more...

THE LITTLE REGIMENT I The fog made the clothes of the men of the column in the roadway seem of a luminous quality. It imparted to the heavy infantry overcoats a new colour, a kind of blue which was so pale that a regiment might have been merely a long, low shadow in the mist. However, a muttering, one part grumble, three parts joke, hovered in the air above the thick ranks, and blended in an undertoned... more...

CHAPTER I. HARRY WALTON. "I am sorry to part with you, Harry," said Professor Henderson. "You have been a very satisfactory and efficient assistant, and I shall miss you." "Thank you, sir," said Harry. "I have tried to be faithful to your interests." "You have been so," said the Professor emphatically. "I have had perfect confidence in you, and this has... more...

Several considerations have prompted the editor of this volume in the compilation of its pages. It constitutes a contribution to the national literature which is assumed to be not unworthy of it, and which is otherwise valuable as illustrating the degree of mental and art development which has been made, in a large section of the country, under circumstances greatly calculated to stimulate talent and... more...

GRETCHEN'S VIOLIN. An elderly woman and a German girl were walking along the old Indian trail that led from the northern mountains to the Columbia River. The river was at this time commonly called the Oregon, as in Bryant's poem:"Where rolls the Oregon,And no sound is heard save its own dashings." The girl had a light figure, a fair, open face, and a high forehead with width in the... more...

A PATRONESS OF ART I Peter (flourish-in-red) Quick (flourish-in-green) Banta (period-in-blue) is the style whereby he is known to Our Square. Summertimes he is a prop and ornament of Coney, that isle of the blest, whose sands he models into gracious forms and noble sentiments, in anticipation of the casual dime or the munificent quarter, wherewith, if you have low, Philistine tastes or a kind heart,... more...