Fiction Books

Thirty minutes to Litchfield. Conn Maxwell, at the armor-glass front of the observation deck, watched the landscape rush out of the horizon and vanish beneath the ship, ten thousand feet down. He thought he knew how an hourglass must feel with the sand slowly draining out. It had been six months to Litchfield when the Mizar lifted out of La Plata Spaceport and he watched Terra dwindle away. It had been... more...

THE WOMAN OF STONE. Lurine, was pretty, petite, and eighteen. She had a nice situation at the Pharmacie de Siam, in the Rue St. Honoré. She had no one dependent upon her, and all the money she earned was her own. Her dress was of cheap material perhaps, but it was cut and fitted with that daintiness of perfection which seems to be the natural gift of the Parisienne, so that one never thought of the... more...

CHAPTER I THE DAY BEFORE It was the last day of February, the extra day, dead still, and biting cold, with thick, lead-colored skies shading down to inky blue at the western horizon. In the ravine below John Watson's house trees cracked ominously in the frost, and not even a rabbit was stirring. The hens had not come out, though an open door had extended an invitation, and the tamworths had... more...

A MYSTERY. "What I would like to know," said Frank Chadwick, "is just how long England intends to put up with the activities of the German submarines in the waters surrounding the British Isles." "How long?" echoed Jack Templeton. "Surely you know that England is already conducting a vigorous campaign against them." "I don't seem to have heard anything of such a... more...

The Pied Piper Newtown, or Franchville, as 't was called of old, is a sleepy little town, as you all may know, upon the Solent shore. Sleepy as it is now, it was once noisy enough, and what made the noise was—rats. The place was so infested with them as to be scarce worth living in. There wasn't a barn or a corn-rick, a store-room or a cupboard, but they ate their way into it. Not a cheese... more...

CHAPTER I. CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH OF THE SAINTLY CURÉ. JEAN Baptist Marie Vianney, afterwards to become famous as the curé of Ars, was born May 8th, 1786, at Dardilly, in the South of France, not far from the City of Lyons, and was the fourth child of humble country folks. His father, Mathieu Vianney, and his mother, Marie Beluse, possessed some land adjoining their simple dwelling. Despite the fact... more...

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A HAPPY HOUR'S COMMAND Down in the Woods, July 2d, 1882.-If I do it at all I must delay no longer. Incongruous and full of skips and jumps as is that huddle of diary-jottings, war-memoranda of 1862-'65, Nature-notes of 1877-'81, with Western and Canadian observations afterwards, all bundled up and tied by a big string, the resolution and indeed mandate comes to me this day, this... more...

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF GENERAL WORKS A large bibliography of standard works on the American Theatre was given in Volume I of the present collection. A very few of the titles have been repeated here, with the additional inclusion of books which will present the essential spirit of modern American playwriting. Some of these works mentioned contain further bibliographies, and these will enable the student to go... more...

MiceI seethe broken bodies of women and men,Temples of God ruined; I see the clawsOf sinister Fate, from the reach of whose feline pawsNever are safe the bodies of women and men.Almighty Cat, it sits on the Throne of the World,With paw outstretched, grinning at us, the mice,Who play our trivial games of virtue and vice,And pray—to That which sits on the Throne of the World!From our beginning till all... more...