Fiction Books

CHAPTER I INTRODUCTORY When the history of the Nineteenth Century—'the Wonderful Century,' as it has, not inaptly, been called—comes to be written, a foremost place must be assigned to that great movement by which evolution has become the dominant factor in scientific progress, while its influence has been felt in every sphere of human speculation and effort. At the beginning of the... more...

INTRODUCTION. There is no need for any one to explain to the working men and women in America what this pamphlet is written for or why it is necessary that they should have this information. They know better than I could tell them, so I shall not try. I have tried to give the knowledge of the best French and Dutch physicians translated into the simplest English, that all may easily understand. There... more...

PREFACE. A readable book should instruct, entertain and amuse. The author, outside of the historical interest of this little book, has aimed to cover a broad-enough field for all classes of readers to find some nourishing food—at least in the way of variety and shifting scenes—from the standpoint of a young private. And in order to understand his viewpoint, a brief sketch of the author is... more...

Once upon a time, a large caravan moved slowly over the desert. On the vast plain, where nothing was to be seen but sand and sky, might have been heard in the far distance the tinkling bells of the camels and the ringing hoof beats of horses. A thick cloud of dust that moved before it indicated the approach of the caravan; and when a breeze parted this cloud, gleaming weapons and brilliantly colored... more...

"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I see they've been holdin' a Divoorce Congress." "What's that?" asked Mr. Hennessy. "Ye wudden't know," said Mr. Dooley. "Divoorce is th' on'y luxury supplied be th' law that we don't injye in Ar-rchey Road. Up here whin a marrid couple get to th' pint where 'tis impossible f'r thim... more...

THUNDERSTORMS My mind has thunderstorms,  That brood for heavy hours:Until they rain me words,  My thoughts are drooping flowersAnd sulking, silent birds. Yet come, dark thunderstorms,  And brood your heavy hours;For when you rain me words,  My thoughts are dancing flowersAnd joyful singing birds. Sometimes I hear fine ladies sing,  Sometimes I smoke and drink with men;Sometimes I play at... more...

I The lamp had not been wiped, and the room smelt slightly of paraffin. The old window-curtains, whose harsh green age had not softened, were drawn. The mahogany sideboard, the threadbare carpet, the small horsehair sofa, the gilt mirror, standing on a white marble chimney-piece, said clearly, 'Furnished apartments in a house built about a hundred years ago.' There were piles of newspapers,... more...

INTRODUCTIONA small family of passerine birds, the Bombycillidae, has been selected for analysis in the present paper. By comparative study of coloration, nesting, food habits, skeleton and soft parts, an attempt is made to determine which of the differences and similarities between species are the result of habits within relatively recent geological time, and which differences are the result of... more...

CHAPTER I THE CRASH “ Failed!” ejaculated John Valiant blankly, and the hat he held dropped to the claret-colored rug like a huge white splotch of sudden fright. “The Corporation—failed!” The young man was the glass of fashion, from the silken ribbon on the spotless Panama to his pearl-gray gaiters, and well favored—a lithe stalwart figure, with wide-set hazel eyes and strong brown hair... more...

I THE VERMILION FEATHER A beach of yellow sand and a stranded log upon which sat a boy looking steadfastly out upon the shining waters. It was a delicious morning in early May, and the sun was at his back, its warm rays falling upon him with affectionate caress. But the lad was plainly oblivious of his immediate surroundings; in spirit he had followed the leading of his eyes a league or more to the... more...