Fiction Books

Some say scientists should keep their noses out of politics. Benson says it’s to prevent damage to their olfactory senses. Benson’s a physicist. I’ve known Allan Benson for a long time. In fact I’ve bodyguarded him for years and think I understand him better than he does himself. And when he shook security at White Sands, my boss didn’t hesitate to tell me that knowing Benson as I do I... more...

I It was on the way home from Sunday-school that Aladdin had enticed Margaret to the forbidden river. She was not sure that he knew how to row, for he was prone to exaggerate his prowess at this and that, and she went because of the fine defiance of it, and because Aladdin exercised an irresistible fascination. He it was who could whistle the most engagingly through his front teeth; and he it was, when... more...

JOHN WESLEY   My horse was very lame, and my head did ache exceedingly. Now what  occurred I here avow is truth—let each man account for it as he  will. Suddenly I thought, "Can not God heal man or beast as He  will?" Immediately my weariness and headache ceased; and my horse  was no longer lame.  —Wesley's Journal Once in a speech on "The Increase of Population,"... more...

ungrily, the cradled vessel's great steel nose pointed up to the distant stars. She was the Cosmos XII, newest and sleekest of the Space Service's rapidly-expanding wing of interstellar scout ships, and she was now ready for operational work. Major Lance Cooper, a big man with space-tanned features, stood in the shadow of the control bunker and watched the swarm of ground crewmen working at... more...

TROTTING COB "Hi—hey—hold up there, mare, will you? What did you say, mister? A light? Yes. That 's Trotting Cob, that is. The missus 'll give us a cup of tea, but that's about all. Devil fly away with the mare. What is it? Something white in the road? Water by ——. Thank the Lord, they Ve had plenty of rain this year. But they do say there's a ghost hereabouts—a... more...

THE STORY OF LITTLE BOY BLUE "But it was not your niece! It was always you I wanted," said the Boy. He lay back, in a deep wicker chair, under the old mulberry-tree. He had taken the precaution of depositing his cup and saucer on the soft turf beneath his chair, because he knew that, under the stress of sudden emotion, china—especially the best china—had a way of flying off his knee. And... more...

CHAPTER ITHE SUIT "Oh, but this is terrible!" cried Simon Dubosc. "Edward, just listen!" And the young Frenchman, drawing his friend away from the tables arranged in little groups on the terraces of the club-house, showed him, in the late edition of the Argus, which a motorcyclist had just brought to the New Golf Club, this telegram, printed in heavy type: "Boulogne, 20 May.—The... more...

Three o'clock on a warm June afternoon. The great heat has caused something like a purple haze to cloud over the deep blue of the sapphire sky. There is not one breath of wind to stir the leaves or cool the flushed faces of those whose duties call them out on this sultry June day. Away in the deep green heart of the broad land broad streams are flowing; in the very heart of the green woods there... more...

I am sitting on the edge of what passes for a bed. It is made of loosely woven strips of steel, and there is no mattress, only an extra blanket of thin olive-drab. It isn't comfortable; but of course they expect to make me still more uncomfortable. They expect to take me out of this precinct jail to the District prison and eventually to the death house. Sure, there will be a trial first, but that... more...

OUTSIDE THE GLASS DOORS I like discipline. I like to be part of an institution. It gives one more liberty than is possible among three or four observant friends.   It is always cool and wonderful after the monotone of the dim hospital, its half-lit corridors stretching as far as one can see, to come out into the dazzling starlight and climb the hill, up into the trees and shrubberies here. The wind... more...