Fiction Books

SONNIE-BOY'S PEOPLE The man with the gold-headed cane had been headed for the cottage, but espying the boy at the water's edge, he changed his course. He crept to within a few paces of the lad before he hailed: "Halloo, little boy! I'll bet I know who your papa is." The boy looked casually around. Seeing that it was a stranger, he faced about and stood respectfully erect.... more...

First Slice This is a frontways view of Bunyip Bluegum and his Uncle Wattleberry. At a glance you can see what a fine, round, splendid fellow Bunyip Bluegum is, without me telling you. At a second glance you can see that the Uncle is more square than round, and that his face has whiskers on it. Looked at sideways you can still see what a splendid fellow Bunyip is, though you can only see one of his... more...

ODD CHARGES Seated at his ease in the warm tap-room of the Cauliflower, the stranger had been eating and drinking for some time, apparently unconscious of the presence of the withered ancient who, huddled up in that corner of the settle which was nearer to the fire, fidgeted restlessly with an empty mug and blew with pathetic insistence through a churchwarden pipe which had long been cold. The stranger... more...

LETTERS OF VOLUME II LETTER I. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—Another visit from her aunt and sister. The latter spitefully insults her with the patterns. A tender scene between her aunt and her in Arabella's absence. She endeavours to account for the inflexibility of her parents and uncles. LETTER II. Miss Howe to Clarissa.—Humourous description of Mr. Hickman. Imagines, from what Lovelace, Hickman,... more...

  nearly stumbled over the kid in the dark before I saw him. His wheelchair was parked as usual on the tired strip of carpet grass that separated his mother's trailer from the one Doc Shull and I lived in, but it wasn't exactly where I'd learned to expect it when I rolled in at night from the fishing boats. Usually it was nearer the west end of the strip where Joey could look across the... more...

THE FIRST HYMN. God made the bright, round sun; He made the pretty flowers; The little birds, the trees, the clouds The rain that falls in showers. He made papa, mamma, And baby brother, too; And mother says He looks from Heaven, And sees each thing I do. Then I must try to be Pleasant, and sweet, and mild; For the good God who made me loves A kind, obedient child. Now again the yellow sun Shines upon... more...

Of this race there is one species, yet divided into many nations, kingdoms, and tribes. These are all grouped under five races: 1. The Caucasian, or white race, including the most highly civilized nations; 2. The Mongolian, or yellow race, including the Tartars, Chinese, Japanese, &c.; 3. The Malay, or brown race, including the people of Malacca, and most of the Oceanic islands; 4. The American, or... more...

Commander Benedict kept his eyes on the rear plate as he activated the intercom. "All right, cut the power. We ought to be safe enough here." As he released the intercom, Dr. Leicher, of the astronomical staff, stepped up to his side. "Perfectly safe," he nodded, "although even at this distance a star going nova ought to be quite a display." Benedict didn't shift his gaze... more...

CHAPTER I. THE HOME OF THE ALLY "And because the town of this story is what it is, there came to dwell in it a Spirit—a strange, mysterious power—playful, vicious, deadly; a Something to be at once feared and courted; to be denied—yet confessed in the denial; a deadly enemy, a welcome friend, an all-powerful Ally." This story began in the Ozark Mountains. It follows the trail that is... more...

CHAPTER I BIRTH AND EARLY YEARS Down to the middle of the present century the story of Rembrandt, as generally accepted, was nothing but a mass of more or less ill-natured fiction. His drunkenness, his luxury, his immorality, his avarice, were heaped together into a somewhat inconsistent midden-heap of infamy. It was not indeed until his true rank among painters began to be properly appreciated that it... more...