Fiction Books

CHAPTER THE FIRST. the root-valley and its inhabitants.—the story-telling guests.—the king of root-valley and his curious daughter.—the aerial chariot.—festivities in the town.—return through the air from the roof of the town-house.—whims of the princess. The road between Nuremberg and Leipsic ran in former times, in one part, along the edge of a dark forest, which stretched into the... more...

THE NOMINEE The huge convention-hall still rang with the thunders of applause, and most of the delegates were on their feet shouting or waving their hats, when Harley slipped from his desk and made his way quietly to the little side-door leading from the stage. It was all over now but the noise; after a long and desperate fight Grayson, a young lawyer, with little more than a local reputation, had been... more...

CHAPTER I It was just at sunset that the train which had crawled across the desert drew up, puffing and panting, before the village of Paloma, not many miles from the Salton Sea. After a moment's delay, one lone passenger descended. Paloma was not an important station. Rudolf Hanson, the one passenger, whom either curiosity or business had brought thither, stood on the platform of the little... more...

"Keep her above three hundred meters on the approach." Ramirez's hard voice cut through the roar of the 2,200-hp Isotov turboshafts. Down below, the cold, dusk-shrouded Aegean churned with a late autumn storm. "Any lower and there'll be surface effect." "I'm well aware of that," the Iranian pilot muttered, a sullen response barely audible above the... more...

Part of the Garrison. “Hullo, Claude, going for a walk?” “Yes, papa.” “Alone?” “No: Mary is going with me.” “Humph! If you were as giddy as Mary, I’d—I’d—” “What, papa?” “Don’t know; something bad. But, Claude, my girl.” “Yes, dear?” “Why the dickens don’t you dress better? Look at... more...

CHAPTER IPROSPERITYThe most prosperous nation of to-day is the United States. Our unexampled wealth and well-being are directly due to the superb natural resources of our country, and to the use which has been made of them by our citizens, both in the present and in the past. We are prosperous because our forefathers bequeathed to us a land of marvellous resources still unexhausted. Shall we conserve... more...

The Bishop was walking down the wide Aiken street. He was the only bishop in Aiken, and they made much of him, accordingly, though his diocese was in the West, which of course was a drawback. He was a tall man, with a handsome, kind face under his shovel hat; portly, as a bishop should be, and having a twinkle of humor in his eye. He dressed well and soberly, in the decorous habiliments of his office.... more...

othing more exciting ever happened to Oliver Watts than being rejected by his draft board for a punctured eardrum until, deferring as usual to the superior judgment of his Aunt Katisha and of Glenna—his elder and militantly spinster sister—he put away his lifelong dream and took up, at the age of twenty-five, the practice of veterinary medicine. The relinquished dream was Oliver's ambition,... more...

CHAPTER I Excuse me, mister man, but ain't you—Hello, yourself! Blamed if I didn't think there was somethin' kind of natural about the looks, as you come pikin' by. How're they runnin', eh? Well say, I ain't seen you since we used to hit up the grammar school together. You've seen me, eh? Oh, sure! I'd forgot. That was when you showed up at the old... more...

"The Italian sculptors of the earlier half of the fifteenth century are more than mere forerunners of the great masters of its close, and often reach perfection within the narrow limits which they chose to impose on their work. Their sculpture shares with the paintings of Botticelli and the churches of Brunelleschi that profound expressiveness, that intimate impress of an indwelling soul, which is... more...