Fiction Books

CHAPTER I WHY I WENT TO PRISON   Many years back, in my early boyhood, I was taken through Auburn Prison. It has always been the main object of interest in our town, and I was a small sized unit in a party of sightseers. No incident of childhood made a more vivid impression upon me. The dark, scowling faces bent over their tasks; the hideous striped clothing, which carried with it an unexplainable... more...

FIRST PART—FIRE AT VALPINSON These were the facts:—I.In the night from the 22nd to the 23rd of June, 1871, towards one o'clock in the morning, the Paris suburb of Sauveterre, the principal and most densely populated suburb of that pretty town, was startled by the furious gallop of a horse on its ill-paved streets. A number of peaceful citizens rushed to the windows. The dark night allowed... more...

Chapter I. The Old Homestead. Come gentle reader, let us entwine arms with Memory, and wander back through the avenues of life to childhood's sunny dell, and as we return more leisurely pluck the wild flowers that grow beside the pathway, and entwine them for Memory's garland, and inhale the fragrance of by-gone years. O, there are rich treasures garnered up in Memory's secret chambers,... more...

I ZOLA LEAVES FRANCE From the latter part of the month of July 1898, down to the end of the ensuing August, a frequent heading to newspaper telegrams and paragraphs was the query, 'Where is Zola?' The wildest suppositions concerning the eminent novelist's whereabouts were indulged in and the most contradictory reports were circulated. It was on July 18 that M. Zola was tried by default... more...

Chapter One. Great Misfortune. Dick Stapleton tossed restlessly on his bamboo bed, till the rickety legs creaked ominously and the mosquito net waved to and fro, threatening to descend upon his head. The heat was stifling. Inside his room the thermometer stood at an unusual height, even for this Gold Coast country, where high readings are a common occurrence, and where hot nights are the rule rather... more...

CHAPTER I. WHAT LUCK DID FOR THE CHUMS. "It was a long trip, fellows, but we're here at last, thank goodness!" "Yes, away up in the North Woods, at the hunting lodge of Trapper Jim!" "Say, it's hard to believe, and that's a fact. What do you say about it, you old stutterer, Toby Jucklin?" "B-b-bully!" exploded the boy, whose broad shoulders, encased in a... more...

The reflective voyager, on his first sight of New York, is baffled when he attempts to catalogue his sensations. All is so completely in contrast with the capitals of Europe. The gloriously bright sky, air that drinks like champagne, the resultant springiness of life and movement, that overdoes itself in excitement and premature exhaustion, and the obtrusively visible defects of this surface... more...

PREFACE. Next to actual travel, the reading of first-class travel stories by men and women of genius is the finest aid to the broadening of views and enlargement of useful knowledge of men and the world’s ways. It is the highest form of intellectual recreation, with the advantage over fiction-reading of satisfying the wholesome desire for facts. With all our modern enthusiasm for long journeys and... more...

I When old Mr. Marshall finally took to his bed, the household viewed this action with more surprise than sympathy, and with more impatience than surprise. It seemed like the breaking down of a machine whose trustworthiness had been hitherto infallible; his family were almost forced to the acknowledgement that he was but a mere human being after all. They had enjoyed a certain intimacy with him, in... more...

With the Night Mail At nine o'clock of a gusty winter night I stood on the lower stages of one of the G. P. O. outward mail towers. My purpose was a run to Quebec in "Postal Packet 162 or such other as may be appointed"; and the Postmaster-General himself countersigned the order. This talisman opened all doors, even those in the despatching-caisson at the foot of the tower, where they... more...