Fiction Books

THE CABMAN'S STORY The Mysteries of a London "Growler" We had to take a "growler," for the day looked rather threatening and we agreed that it would be a very bad way of beginning our holiday by getting wet, especially when Fanny was only just coming round from the whooping cough. Holidays were rather scarce with us, and when we took one we generally arranged some little treat, and... more...

CHAPTER I TOO OLD AT FORTY The waning light of an October evening shone on the reflectors outside the windows of the basement counting-house, and the clerk at the corner desk could barely discern that the clock on the green painted dusty wall pointed to a quarter to six. In fifteen minutes Edward Povey's twenty-two years of devoted service in the interests of Messrs. Kyser, Schultz & Company... more...

Jarvis stretched himself as luxuriously as he could in the cramped general quarters of the Ares. "Air you can breathe!" he exulted. "It feels as thick as soup after the thin stuff out there!" He nodded at the Martian landscape stretching flat and desolate in the light of the nearer moon, beyond the glass of the port. The other three stared at him sympathetically—Putz, the engineer,... more...

I Two archers stepped out into the path,—shafts notched and bows up. "A word with your worship," said one. The Knight whirled around. "A word with your worship," greeted him from the rear. He glanced quickly to each side. "A word with your worship," met him there. He shrugged his shoulders and sat down on the limb of a fallen tree. Resistance was quite useless, with no weapon... more...

CHAPTER I.   Do as the Heavens have done; forget your evil;  With them, forgive yourself.—The Winter's Tale.   . . . The sweet'st companion that e'er man  Bred his hopes out of.—Ibid. THE curate of Brook-Green was sitting outside his door. The vicarage which he inhabited was a straggling, irregular, but picturesque building,—humble enough to suit the means of the curate,... more...

CHAPTER IA Quaker Gun “And will the Thunder Bird really lay its egg upon the moon? Such a hard egg, too! Will it–really–drop a pound weight of steel upon the head of the Man in the Moon?... Oh! de-ar Mammy Moon–what a shock she’ll get.” The girl, the fifteen-year-old Camp Fire Girl–all but sixteen now–to whom Mammy Moon had been the fairy foster-mother of her childhood, ever since she... more...

CHAPTER I I It had rained all night, one of the summer rains that, beginning in a thunder-storm in Washington, had continued in a steaming drizzle until morning. There were only four passengers in the sleeper, men all of them—two in adjoining sections in the middle of the car, a third in the drawing-room, a fourth an intermittent occupant of a berth at the end. They had gone to bed unaware of the... more...

CHAPTER I At Cairo, Illinois, the Pullman-car conductor asked Peter Siner to take his suitcase and traveling-bag and pass forward into the Jim Crow car. The request came as a sort of surprise to the negro. During Peter Siner's four years in Harvard the segregation of black folk on Southern railroads had become blurred and reminiscent in his mind; now it was fetched back into the sharp distinction... more...

THE SNAKE-TREE THEY managed to make a good meal of the food supplies they had brought along, and as a dessert Washington made some peach short-cake from the slices of the giant fruit they had found, the day before. Just as they finished supper it got very dark, but, in about an hour, the moon-beams, as the travelers called them, came up, and illuminated the lake with a weird light. As the machinery of... more...

RELUCTANCE. Neither life nor the lawn-tennis club was so full at Natterley that the news of Harry Sterling's return had not some importance. He came back, moreover, to assume a position very different from his old one. He had left Harrow now, departing in the sweet aroma of a long score against Eton at Lord's, and was to go up to Oxford in October. Now between a schoolboy and a University man... more...