Fiction Books

CHAPTER FIRST. THE "CRESCENT CITY"—THE HUSBAND'S DEPARTURE. Kind reader, have you ever been to New Orleans? If not, we will attempt to describe the metropolis of the Confederate States of America. New Orleans is situated on the Mississippi river, and is built in the shape of a crescent, from which it derives the appellation of "Crescent City." The inhabitants—that is, the... more...

MEMOIR William Harrison Ainsworth was born in King Street, Manchester, February 4, 1805, in a house that has long since been demolished. His father was a solicitor in good practice, and the son had all the advantages that educational facilities could afford. He was sent to the Manchester grammar-school, and in one of his early novels has left an interesting and accurate picture of its then condition,... more...

I. White Otter's Own Shadow White Otter's heart was bad. He sat alone on the rim-rocks of the bluffs overlooking the sunlit valley. To an unaccustomed eye from below he might have been a part of nature's freaks among the sand rocks. The yellow grass sloped away from his feet mile after mile to the timber, and beyond that to the prismatic mountains. The variegated lodges of the... more...

INTRODUCTION Experience, this greatest of all teachers, will undoubtedly have convinced many of my readers that the most delightful voyage is only capable of maintaining its charms when made amidst congenial fellow-travelers. The grandest scenes can be fully enjoyed and duly appreciated when viewed through an atmosphere of physical comfort. Thus, in order to demonstrate the accuracy of the assertion:... more...

Old Prof Stegner never foresaw the complications his selective anti-gravitational field would cause. Knowing the grand old man as I did, I can say that he never intended his "blessing" should become the curse to mankind that it did. And the catastrophe it brought about was certainly beyond range of all prophecy. Of course, anyone who lived in 1972 and tried to get inside Stegner's weird... more...

A full and authentic edition of Mozart's Letters ought to require no special apology; for, though their essential substance has already been made known by quotations from biographies by Nissen, Jahn, and myself, taken from the originals, still in these three works the letters are necessarily not only very imperfectly given, but in some parts so fragmentary, that the peculiar charm of this... more...

Let me begin by informing you, that this new novel does not present the proposed sequel to my last work of fiction—"The Fallen Leaves." The first part of that story has, through circumstances connected with the various forms of publications adopted thus far, addressed itself to a comparatively limited class of readers in England. When the book is finally reprinted in its cheapest form—then,... more...

I. THE BLIGHT IN THE HILLS High noon of a crisp October day, sunshine flooding the earth with the warmth and light of old wine and, going single-file up through the jagged gap that the dripping of water has worn down through the Cumberland Mountains from crest to valley-level, a gray horse and two big mules, a man and two young girls. On the gray horse, I led the tortuous way. After me came my small... more...

OUTSIDE THE RECORD. In General SessionsCourt Room, June 5, 1896. Dorothy dear: It is over. Warren’s fate is in the hands of the jury. I have done the little I could, but the strain has been almost too much for me. Even now, my heart sinks at the thought that I may have left something undone or failed to see some trap of the District Attorney. For more than two hours I have been sitting here fighting... more...

The Wreck. It was the last week in the month of November, 18—. The weather, for some days previous, had been unusually boisterous for the time of year, and had culminated, on the morning on which my story opens, in a “November gale” from the south-west, exceeding in violence any previous gale within the memory of “the oldest inhabitant” of the locality. This is saying a great deal, for I was... more...