Fiction Books

The roller coaster's string of cars, looking shopworn in their flaky blue and orange paint, crept toward the top of the incline, the ratcheted lift chain clanking with weary patience. In the front seat, a young couple held hands and prepared to scream. Two cars back, a heavy, round-shouldered, black-mustached man with a swarthy skin clenched his hands on the rail before him. A thin blond fellow... more...

THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES Among the reminiscences of Socrates, none, as it seems to me, is more deserving of record than the counsel he took with himself (after being cited to appear before the court), not only with regard to his defence, but also as to the ending of his life. Others have written on this theme, and all without exception have touched upon the lofty style of the philosopher, which may be... more...

THE BRIDE'S JOURNEY. BY MRS CROWE. In the year 1809, when the French were in Prussia, M. Louison, an officer in the commissariat department of the imperial army, contracted an attachment for the beautiful Adelaide Hext, the daughter of a respectable but not wealthy merchant. The young Frenchman having contrived to make his attachment known, it was imprudently reciprocated by its object; we say... more...

"But I know what I need. I need you." There was a dogged tone in Elijah Berl's voice that was almost sullenly insistent. "I have given you all that I have to give, Elijah. You don't need me. What you need is money, and that's what I haven't got." "And I say again that I have thought of this for five years. Ever since I left New England. I have not been alone, I... more...

My dear Dr. Russell,—Now that at length I take the step of printing my name in the Title-Page of this Volume, I trust I shall not be encroaching on the kindness you have so long shown to me, if I venture to follow it up by placing yours in the page which comes next, thus associating myself with you, and recommending myself to my readers by the association. Not that I am dreaming of bringing down upon... more...

THERE IS A ROD FOR THE BACK OF EVERY FOOL WHO WOULD BE WISER THAN HIS GENERATION. The next morning, when Marmaduke descended to the hall, Madge, accosting him on the threshold, informed him that Mistress Sibyll was unwell, and kept her chamber, and that Master Warner was never visible much before noon. He was, therefore, prayed to take his meal alone. "Alone" was a word peculiarly unwelcome to... more...

CHAPTER I. BEN'S INHERITANCE. "I've settled up your father's estate, Benjamin," said Job Stanton. "You'll find it all figgered out on this piece of paper. There was that two-acre piece up at Rockville brought seventy-five dollars, the medder fetched a hundred and fifty, the two cows—" "How much does it all come to, Uncle Job?" interrupted Ben, who was... more...

Over the cabin ’phone, Ann’s voice was crisp with anger. “Mr. Lord, I must see you at once.” “Of course, Ann.” Lord tried not to sound uncordial. It was all part of a trade agent’s job, to listen to the recommendations and complaints of the teacher. But an interview with Ann Howard was always so arduous, so stiff with unrelieved righteousness. “I should be free until—” “Can you... more...

THE WIDOW'S TAVERN The morning of that day—it was a Tuesday of the Lenten season—could not have dawned more promisingly. The sea, off the Cabañal, was in flat calm, as smooth as a polished mirror. Not the slightest ripple broke the shimmering triangular wake that the sun sent shoreward over the lifeless surface of the water. The fishing fleet had headed, bright and early, for the grounds off... more...

The Land's End of Two Worlds. The Arctic Ocean encircles with a belt of eternal ice the desert confines of Siberia and North America—the uttermost limits of the Old and New worlds, separated by the narrow, channel, known as Behring's Straits. The last days of September have arrived. The equinox has brought with it darkness and Northern storms, and night will quickly close the short and... more...