Fiction Books

"Nothing ever happens to me!" Larry Manahan grumbled under his breath, sitting behind his desk at the advertising agency which employed his services in return for the consideration of fifty a week. "All the adventure I know is what I see in the movies, or read about in magazines. What wouldn't I give for a slice of real life!" It paused, seeming to regard them with malevolent eyes.... more...

I was in the midst of the fourth draft of my doctorate thesis when Aunt Matilda's telegram came. It could not have come at a worse time. The deadline for my thesis was four days away and there was a minimum of five days of hard work to do on it yet. I was working around the clock. If it had been a telegram informing me of her death I could not have taken time out to attend the funeral. If it had... more...

"What would you think," I asked Marjorie over supper, "if I should undertake to lead a junior achievement group this summer?" She pondered it while she went to the kitchen to bring in the dessert. It was dried apricot pie, and very tasty, I might add. "Why, Donald," she said, "it could be quite interesting, if I understand what a junior achievement group is. What gave you... more...

THE LEGATEES OF DEUCALION We were both of us not a little stiff as the result of sleeping out in the open all that night, for even in Grand Canary the dew-fall and the comparative chill of darkness are not to be trifled with. For myself on these occasions I like a bit of a run as an early refresher. But here on this rough ground in the middle of the island there were not three yards of level to be... more...

CHAPTER I JOHN GRANGER OF MURDER POINT John Granger, agent on the Last Chance River in the interests of Garnier, Parwin, and Wrath, independent traders in the territory of Keewatin, sat alone in his store at Murder Point. He sat upon an upturned box, with an empty pipe between his lips. In the middle of the room stood an iron stove which blazed red hot; through the single window, toward which he faced,... more...

CHAPTER I THE ANGLO-SAXON HERBALS “Everything possible to be believ’d is an image of truth.”—William Blake. There is a certain pathos attached to the fragments from any great wreck, and in studying the few Saxon manuscripts, treating of herbs, which have survived to our day, we find their primary fascination not so much in their beauty and interest as in the visions they conjure up of those... more...

CHAPTER I SERIOUS NEWS "As long as I can't be at home," said Harry Fleming, "I'd rather be here than anywhere in the world I can think of !" "Rather!" said his companion, Dick Mercer. "I say, Harry, it must be funny to be an American!" Harry laughed heartily. "I'd be angry, Dick," he said, finally, "if that wasn't so English — and so... more...

THE FLAXHE flax was in full bloom; it had pretty little blue flowers, as delicate as the wings of a moth. The sun shone on it and the showers watered it; and this was as good for the flax as it is for little children to be washed and then kissed by their mothers. They look much prettier for it, and so did the flax."People say that I look exceedingly well," said the flax, "and that I am so... more...

CHAPTER I Andrew Tallente stepped out of the quaint little train on to the flower-bedecked platform of this Devonshire hamlet amongst the hills, to receive a surprise so immeasurable that for a moment he could do nothing but gaze silently at the tall, ungainly figure whose unpleasant smile betrayed the fact that this meeting was not altogether accidental so far as he was concerned. "Miller!" he... more...

CHAPTER I. AN ALARM IN THE CAMP. "Hey, Bandy-legs, what d'ye suppose ails Toby there?" "He sure looks like he'd just seen a ghost, for a fact, Steve. Where areMax and his cousin Owen just now?" "Oh, they walked down along the river bank to look for signs of fresh-water clams. So we'll just have to run things ourselves, Bandy. Hello! there, Toby, what under the sun are... more...