Fiction Books

The Pithecanthropus Silent as the shadows through which he moved, the great beast slunk through the midnight jungle, his yellow-green eyes round and staring, his sinewy tail undulating behind him, his head lowered and flattened, and every muscle vibrant to the thrill of the hunt. The jungle moon dappled an occasional clearing which the great cat was always careful to avoid. Though he moved through... more...

CHAPTER I.Roll on thou deep and dark blue ocean roll;. . . . . . Upon the watery plain.The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remainA shadow of man's ravage, save his own,When for a moment like a drop of rain,He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. September 27, 1607. Dead bodies everywhere. The ocean, lashed to fury by the gale of... more...

It was last winter, after a twelve years' absence from New York, that I saw again, at one of the Jim Cumnors' dinners, my old friend Halston Merrick. The Cumnors' house is one of the few where, even after such a lapse of time, one can be sure of finding familiar faces and picking up old threads; where for a moment one can abandon one's self to the illusion that New York humanity is... more...

FEEDING HER BIRDS Original Picture: Lille Museum, Lille, France. Artist: Jean François Millet (zhäN fräN´swä´´ mÄ“´lÄ•´´). Birthplace: Gruchy, France. Dates: Born, 1814; died, 1875. Questions to arouse interest. What do you see in this picture? What are the children doing? Where do they live? On what are they sitting? Whom can you see behind the house? What is he doing? What... more...

AN OLD NOBLEMAN AND AN OLD MAÎTRE-D'HÔTEL. It was the beginning of April, 1784, between twelve and one o'clock. Our old acquaintance, the Marshal de Richelieu, having with his own hands colored his eyebrows with a perfumed dye, pushed away the mirror which was held to him by his valet, the successor of his faithful Raffè and shaking his head in the manner peculiar to himself, "Ah!"... more...

THAT COSTLY RIDE The household lived frugally on the meager income derived from the husband's insignificant appointments. Two children had been born of the marriage, and the earlier condition of the strictest economy had become one of quiet, concealed, shamefaced misery, the poverty of a noble family—which in spite of misfortune never forgets its rank. Hector de Gribelin had been educated in the... more...

The Soul of the Great Bell She hath spoken, and her words still resound in his ears. Hao-Khieou-Tchouan: c. ix. THE SOUL OF THE GREAT BELL The water-clock marks the hour in the Ta-chung sz',—in the Tower of the Great Bell: now the mallet is lifted to smite the lips of the metal monster,—the vast lips inscribed with Buddhist texts from the sacred Fa-hwa-King, from the chapters of the holy... more...

CHAPTER I. THE FAMILY AND EARLY WARS OF ONUND THE SON OF OFEIG There was a man named Onund, the son of Ofeig Clumsyfoot, who was the son of Ivar Horsetail. Onund was the brother of Gudbjorg, the mother of Gudbrand Knob, the father of Asta, the mother of King Olaf the Saint. His mother came from the Upplands, while his father's relations were mostly in Rogaland and Hordland. He was a great viking... more...

CHAPTER I THE COAST OF FRANCE I dare say that I had already read my uncle's letter a hundred times, and I am sure that I knew it by heart. None the less I took it out of my pocket, and, sitting on the side of the lugger, I went over it again with as much attention as if it were for the first time. It was written in a prim, angular hand, such as one might expect from a man who had begun life as a... more...

MQuarrie, the City Editor, looked up as I entered his office. "Bond," he asked, "do you know Jim Carpenter?" "I know him slightly," I replied cautiously. "I have met him several times and I interviewed him some years ago when he improved the Hadley rocket motor. I can't claim a very extensive acquaintance with him." "I thought you knew him well. It is a surprise... more...