Fiction Books

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 1.“The rose of England bloomed on Gertrude's cheek;What though these shades had seen her birth? Her sireA Briton's independence taught to seekFar western worlds.” Gertrude of Wyoming. Among those who had been driven, by the disturbances in England, to seek a more quiet home in the wilds of Virginia, was a gentleman of the name of Temple. An Englishman by birth, he was an unwilling... more...

HAPPINESS IN PURGATORY. T may be said of Purgatory that if it did not exist it would have to be created, so eminently is it in accord with the dictates of reason and common sense. The natural instinct of travellers at their journey's end is to seek for rest and change of attire. Some are begrimed with mud, others have caught the dust of a scorching summer day; the heat or cold or damp of the... more...

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MARGERY I When Margery was three months old I wrote a letter to her mother: Dear Madam,—If you have a copy in Class D at 1/10d. net, I shall be glad to hear from you.I am,The Baby's Uncle.On Tuesday I got an answer by the morning post: Dear Sir,—In reply to yours: How dare you insult my child? She is in Class A1, priceless and bought in by the owner. Four months old (and two days) on Christmas... more...

There were four men in the lifeboat that came down from the space-cruiser. Three of them were still in the uniform of the Galactic Guards. The fourth sat in the prow of the small craft looking down at their goal, hunched and silent, bundled up in a greatcoat against the coolness of space—a greatcoat which he would never need again after this morning. The brim of his hat was pulled down far over his... more...

CHAPTER ONE I wasn't really a Westerner an' that's why I'm so different from most of 'em. Take your regular bonie fide Westerner an' when he dies he don't turn to dust, he turns to alkali; but when it comes my turn to settle, I'll jest natchely become the good rich soil o' the Indiana cornbelt. I was born in Indiana and I never left it till after I was ten... more...

THE LETTER Through the stillness of a drowsy June day broke the intoning of the library bell, chiming the hour. Three heads lifted quickly to listen. Three pairs of eyes met, the same thought flashed through three minds. "Won't we miss that bell, though? I've seen grads when they've come back stand perfectly still and listen to it with their eyes all weepy looking. That's the... more...

I go to sea in rather unromantic surroundings. Have any of you made a passage on board a steamer between London and Leith? If you have, you will have seen no small number of brigs and brigantines, with sails of all tints, from doubtful white to decided black—some deeply-laden, making their way to the southward, others with their sides high out of the water, heeling over to the slightest breeze,... more...

HAPPY LITTLE EDWARD. Edward Jones was about four years old. He was a good, and of course a happy little boy, and he lived in a beautiful city in Connecticut, with his kind parents, and his brothers and sisters, and a dear good aunt, who took care of him. Edward's mother had a sister living in Massachusetts, who was the wife of a farmer, and one beautiful Spring morning, Mr. and Mrs. Jones... more...