Fiction Books

CHAPTER I "No, siree, sir," Abe Potash exclaimed as he drew a check to the order of his attorney for a hundred and fifty dollars, "I would positively go it alone from now on till I die, Noblestone. I got my stomach full with Pincus Vesell already, and if Andrew Carnegie would come to me and tell me he wants to go with me as partners together in the cloak and suit business, I would say... more...

The "owner of the copyright" guarantees that "The Young Visiters" is the unaided effort in fiction of an authoress of nine years. "Effort," however, is an absurd word to use, as you may see by studying the triumphant countenance of the child herself, which is here reproduced as frontispiece to her sublime work. This is no portrait of a writer who had to burn the oil at midnight... more...

TO THE ELEVEN LADIES WHO PRESENTED ME WITH A SILVER LOVING CUP ON THE TWENTY-NINTH OF AUGUST, M DCCC LXXXIX "WHO gave this cup?" The secret thou wouldst stealIts brimming flood forbids it to reveal:No mortal's eye shall read it till he firstCool the red throat of thirst. If on the golden floor one draught remain,Trust me, thy careful search will be in vain;Not till the bowl is emptied... more...

Yesterday morning this thing happened to me: I was reading the New York Times and my eyes suddenly fell upon one word, and that word rang a little bell in my memory, “Kirkwall!” The next moment I had closed my eyes in order to see backward more clearly, and slowly, but surely, the old, old town––standing boldly upon the very beach of the stormy North Sea––became clear in my mental vision.... more...

MARTHA   In the long run all love is paid by love,    Tho' undervalued by the hosts of earth.  The great eternal government above    Keeps strict account, and will redeem its worth.  Give thy love freely; do not count the cost;    So beautiful a thing was never lost          In the long run. ——Ella Wheeler Wilcox. THOMAS PERKINS was astonished beyond words. Martha... more...

llan Randall stared at the man before him. "And that's why you sent for me, Milton?" he finally asked. There was a moment's silence, in which Randall's eyes moved as though uncomprehendingly from the face of Milton to those of the two men beside him. The four sat together at the end of a roughly furnished and electric-lit living-room, and in that momentary silence there came in... more...

WINDFALL Photos along a soft-centred walllike assorted chocolateswith prized centres,tiny miniatures--full portraitsthe young army major, for one,in battle fatigues come full family regalia. Mounting the staircase(tearing back the chocolate paper)shroud hand on the railing,pressuring the cherry liquidinto oozing burst of memory,the nectarine orange of a summer's day.Swing & garden loom into... more...

"Here, Uncle Ike, let me give you a nice piece of paper, twisted up beautifully, to light your pipe," said the red-headed boy, as Uncle Ike, with his long clay pipe, filled with ill-smelling tobacco, was feeling in his vest pocket for a match. "I should think nice white paper would be sweeter to light a pipe with than a greasy old match scratched on your pants," and the boy lighted a... more...

CHAPTER I. THE DEACON PROVIDES RESORTS TO HIGHWAY ROBBERY AND HORSE STEALING. THE Deacon was repaid seventyfold by Si's and Shorty's enjoyment of the stew he had prepared for them, and the extraordinary good it had seemed to do them as they lay wounded in the hospital at Chattanooga, to which place the Deacon had gone as soon as he learned that Si was hurt in the battle. "I won't go... more...

Chapter 1 My name's Dick Marston, Sydney-side native. I'm twenty-nine years old, six feet in my stocking soles, and thirteen stone weight. Pretty strong and active with it, so they say. I don't want to blow—not here, any road—but it takes a good man to put me on my back, or stand up to me with the gloves, or the naked mauleys. I can ride anything—anything that ever was lapped in... more...