Fiction Books

A Mountain Woman IF Leroy Brainard had not had such a respect for literature, he would have written a book. As it was, he played at being an architect—and succeeded in being a charming fellow. My sister Jessica never lost an opportunity of laughing at his endeavors as an architect. "You can build an enchanting villa, but what would you do with a cathedral?" "I shall never have a chance at... more...

"I'LL LEAVE IT TO YOU" A plan of the stage of the New Theatre, London, set for the play is given at the end of the book.{} Scene.—The Hall of Mulberry Manor. All the furniture looks very comfortable. Through the window can be seen a glimpse of a snowy garden; there it a log fire. The light is a little dim, being late afternoon. Seated on the table swinging her legs is Joyce, she is... more...

CHAPTER I His name was Yura. He was six years old, and the world was to him enormous, alive and bewitchingly mysterious. He knew the sky quite well. He knew its deep azure by day, and the white-breasted, half silvery, half golden clouds slowly floating by. He often watched them as he lay on his back upon the grass or upon the roof. But he did not know the stars so well, for he went to bed early. He... more...

FIRST DERBY 1875 To-day will ever be historic in the turf annals of Kentucky, as the first “Derby Day,” of what I hope to see a long series of turf festivities. If the officers of the Association could have had the pick from the calendar of the year, there could not have been a more delightful and charming day. The morning broke without a cloud visible in the heavens, while a cool breeze was wafted... more...

The stories in this volume are all of Czech, Moravian, and Slovak origin, and are to be found in many versions in the books of folk tales collected by Erben, Nemcova, Kulda, Dobsinsky, Rimavsky, Benes-Trebizsky, Miksicek. I got them first by word of mouth and afterwards hunted them out in the old books. My work has been that of retelling rather than translating since in most cases I have put myself in... more...

PROLOGUE I He was hardly fit to figure in the great review of life. A boy of ten or twelve, in tattered clothes, with an accordion in a case swung over one shoulder like a sack, and under the other arm a wooden cage containing a grey squirrel. It was a December night in London, and the Southern lad had nothing to shelter his little body from the Northern cold but his short velveteen jacket, red... more...

CLARK'S FIELD The other day I happened to be in the town where I was born and not far from the commonplace house in the humbler quarter of the town where my parents were living at the time of my birth, half a century and more ago. I am not fond of my native town, although I lived in the place until I was seventeen or eighteen years old. It was never a distinguished spot and seems to have gained... more...

INTRODUCTION. Looking back over the twenty years since "Celibates" was first published I find that the George Moore of the earlier year is the George Moore of to-day. The novelist of 1895 and the novelist of 1915 are one and the same person. Each is really interested in himself; each is more concerned with how the world and its humanity appear to him than how they appear to the casual observer... more...

he advertising game is not as cut and dried as many people think. Sometimes you spend a million dollars and get no results, and then some little low-budget campaign will catch the public's fancy and walk away with merchandising honors of the year. Let me sound a warning, however. When this happens, watch out! There's always a reason for it, and it isn't always just a matter of bright... more...

THE MONEY-BOX Sailormen are not good 'ands at saving money as a rule, said the night-watchman, as he wistfully toyed with a bad shilling on his watch-chain, though to 'ear 'em talk of saving when they're at sea and there isn't a pub within a thousand miles of 'em, you might think different. It ain't for the want of trying either with some of 'em, and I've... more...