Fiction Books

CHAPTER I CAPTAIN ULYSSES FERRAGUT His first gallantries were with an empress. He was ten years old, and the empress six hundred. His father, Don Esteban Ferragut—third quota of the College of Notaries—had always had a great admiration for the things of the past. He lived near the cathedral, and on Sundays and holy days, instead of following the faithful to witness the pompous ceremonials presided... more...

"Nice that you dropped in," the man in the detention room said. "I never expected a visit from the Consul General. It makes me feel important." "The Confederation takes an interest in all of its citizens' welfare," Lanceford said. "You are important! Incidentally, how is it going?" "Not too bad. They treat me all right. But these natives sure are tough on... more...

CHAPTER I The wolfer lay in his cabin and listened to the first few night sounds of the foothills. The clear piping notes of migrating plover floated softly down to him, punctuated by the rasping cry of a nighthawk. A coyote raised his voice, a perfect tenor note that swept up to a wild soprano, then fell again in a whirl of howls which carried amazing shifts of inflection, tearing up and down the... more...

ABOARD U.S.S. PLYMOUTH "Sail at 4 a.m.," said Captain Jack Templeton of the U.S.S. Plymouth, laying down the long manila envelope marked "Secret." "Acknowledge by signal," he directed the ship's messenger, and then looked inquiringly about the wardroom table. "Aye, aye, sir," said the first officer, Lieutenant Frank Chadwick. "Ready at four, sir," said the... more...

CHAPTER I An establishment in Newbern Center, trading under the name of the Foto Art Shop, once displayed in its window a likeness of the twin sons of Dave Cowan. Side by side, on a lavishly fringed plush couch, they confronted the camera with differing aspects. One sat forward with a decently, even blandly, composed visage, nor had he meddled with his curls. His mate sat back, scowling, and fought the... more...

THE CULT OF ALTRUISM In this age of sacred egoisms and oppressed nationalities the drama—or melodrama—of international politics has been enriched by a variety of distressed heroines, in the shape of small nations, whose salvation has inspired professions of altruism slightly incompatible with the previous records of the rescuers as revealed to the impartial observer. The shortage of paper and... more...

CHAPTER I ANCIENT INDIA The Vedas. Buddhist Literature. Great Epic Poems, then veryDiverse, much Shorter Poems. Dramatic Literature. Moral Literature. THE VEDAS.—The ancient Indians, who spoke Sanscrit, possess a literature which goes back, perhaps, to the fifteenth century before Christ. At first, like all other races, they possessed a sacred literature intimately bound up with their religion. The... more...

ANCHOR. I love to look on an Anchor. Like a good friend who helps you in trouble, it holds the ship steady in a storm. Its flukes sink deep into the bottom of the sea, or cling to the rocks, and nothing but a great storm can separate it from the cable which is fastened to the vessel. Anchors are of solid iron and very heavy; and cables are made of hemp or of iron chain. Large ships have four anchors,... more...

There has always been strong sympathy for the poor, meek, downtrodden slave— the kindly little man, oppressed by cruel and overbearing masters. Could it possibly have been misplaced...? Jurgen, Prince Trevannion, accepted the coffee cup and lifted it to his lips, then lowered it. These Navy robots always poured coffee too hot; spacemen must have collapsium-lined throats. With the other hand, he... more...

A certain old gentleman in the west of Ireland, whose love of the ridiculous quite equalled his taste for claret and fox-hunting, was wont, upon festive occasions, when opportunity offered, to amuse his friends by DRAWING OUT one of his servants, exceedingly fond of what he termed, his "thravels," and in whom a good deal of whim, some queer stories, and, perhaps more than all, long and faithful... more...