Fiction Books

Charles Marquis had a fraction of a minute in which to die. He dropped through the tubular beams of alloydem steel and hung there, five thousand feet above the tiers and walkways below. At either end of the walkway crossing between the two power-hung buildings, he saw the plainclothes security officers running in toward him. He grinned and started to release his grip. He would think about them on the... more...

CHAPTER I. Departure from Havre—Regrets—A Barrier of Rocks—Rio Janeiro—Departure from Rio—Six Weeks at Sea—Cape Horn—Storms—Death of a Sailor—Catching a Shark—Land! Land!—The Gold Country. In the year 1852, on a fine spring morning, I arrived in Havre with my eldest sister, who was going, on commercial matters, to California. We spent several days in Havre; and on the 30th of May,... more...

"THE ROSE OF DIXIE"   When The Rose of Dixie magazine was started by a stock company in Toombs City, Georgia, there was never but one candidate for its chief editorial position in the minds of its owners. Col. Aquila Telfair was the man for the place. By all the rights of learning, family, reputation, and Southern traditions, he was its foreordained, fit, and logical editor. So, a committee of... more...

Chapter One. The Wolf, a letter-of-marque of twenty guns, commanded by Captain Deason, sailing from Liverpool, lay becalmed on the glass-like surface of the Pacific. The sun struck down with intense heat on the dock, compelling the crew to seek such shade as the bulwarks or sails afforded. Some were engaged in mending sails, twisting yarns, knotting, splicing, or in similar occupations; others sat in... more...

PLANNING FOR CAMPThere is a pleasure in the pathless woods,There is a rapture on the lonely shore,There is society, where none intrudesBy the deep Sea, and music in its roar:I love not Man the less, but Nature more,From these our interviews, in which I stealFrom all I may be or have been before,To mingle with the Universe, and feelWhat I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal —Lord Byron... more...

Two miles west of the village of Laketon there lived an aged recluse who was known only as Old Crompton. As far back as the villagers could remember he had visited the town regularly twice a month, each time tottering his lonely way homeward with a load of provisions. He appeared to be well supplied with funds, but purchased sparingly as became a miserly hermit. And so vicious was his tongue that few... more...

Fog that you might cut with a knife all the way from London to Newbury. This fog does not wet things. It is rather a smoke than a fog. There are no two things in this world; and, were it not for fear of Six-Acts (the “wholesome restraint” of which I continually feel) I might be tempted to carry my comparison further; but, certainly, there are no two things in this world so dissimilar as an English... more...

CHAPTER I. MISS OCTAVIA BASSETT. Slowbridge had been shaken to its foundations. It may as well be explained, however, at the outset, that it would not take much of a sensation to give Slowbridge a great shock. In the first place, Slowbridge was not used to sensations, and was used to going on the even and respectable tenor of its way, regarding the outside world with private distrust, if not with open... more...

STORIES OF THE BORDER MARCHES THE WHITE LADY OF BLENKINSOPP Among the old castles and peel towers of the Border, there are few to which some tale or other of the supernatural does not attach itself. It may be a legend of buried treasure, watched over by a weeping figure, that wrings its hands; folk may tell of the apparition of an ancient dame, whose corpse-like features yet show traces of passions... more...

CHAPTER ONE: A Little Dinner with Mr. Lucullus Fyshe The Mausoleum Club stands on the quietest corner of the best residential street in the City. It is a Grecian building of white stone. About it are great elm trees with birds—the most expensive kind of birds—singing in the branches. The street in the softer hours of the morning has an almost reverential quiet. Great motors move drowsily along it,... more...