Fiction Books

Chapter I A Chance for a Position "Where are you going, Jack?" "To the shops of John Fowler & Company." "To look for a job?" "Yes." "Then you are in luck, for I heard this morning that they want another striker in the lower shop at once." "Then I'll <i>strike</i> for the opening at once, and my name is not JackNorth if I don't land... more...

CHRISTMAS, 1917 A key no thief can steal, no time can rust; A faery door, adventurous and golden; A palace, perfect to our eyes—Ah must Our eyes be holden? Has the past died before this present sin? Has this most cruel age already stonèd To martyrdom that magic Day, within Those halls, enthronèd? No. Through the dancing of the young spring rain, Through the faint summer, and the autumn’s burning,... more...

The beetle woke from a dreamless sleep, yawned, stretched cramped limbs and smiled to himself. In the west the sunset's last glow faded. Stars sprang out in the clear desert sky, dimmed only by the white moon that rose full and brilliant above the eastern horizon. Methodically, suppressing impatience, he went through every evening's ritual of waking. He checked his instruments, scanned the... more...

Out of the Ashes Old Troy reaped rue in the womb of yearsFor stolen Helen's sake;Till tenfold retribution rearsIts wreck on embers slaked with tearsThat mended no heart-ache.The wail of the women sold as slavesLest Troy breed sons againDreed o'er a desert of nameless graves,The heaps and the hills that are Trojan gravesDeep-runneled by the rain. But Troy lives on. Though Helen's rapeAnd... more...

CHAPTER I. I FIND LIFE. Those soft pink circles which fell upon my face and hands, caught in my hair, danced around my feet, and frolicked over the billowy waves of bright, green grass—did I know they were apple blossoms? Did I know it was an apple tree through which I looked up to the blue sky, over which white clouds scudded away toward the great hills? Had I slept and been awakened by the wind to... more...

It is certainly a curious fact that so many of the voices of what is called our modern religion have come from countries which are not only simple, but may even be called barbaric. A nation like Norway has a great realistic drama without having ever had either a great classical drama or a great romantic drama. A nation like Russia makes us feel its modern fiction when we have never felt its ancient... more...

A Story from Scotland There was once a lad, and what his real name was nobody remembered, unless it was the mother who bore him; but what every one called him was Ashipattle. They called him that because he sat among the ashes to warm his toes. He had six older brothers, and they did not think much of him. All the tasks they scorned to do themselves they put upon Ashipattle. He gathered the sticks for... more...

APPENDIX NO. I. THE WOODSTOCK SCUFFLE; or, Most dreadfull apparitions that were lately seene in the Mannor-house of Woodstock, neere Oxford, to the great terror and the wonderful amazement of all there that did behold them. It were a wonder if one unites,And not of wonders and strange sights;For ev'ry where such things affrightsPoore people, That men are ev'n at their wits' end;God... more...

PREFACE The Editor thinks that children will readily forgive him for publishing another Fairy Book. We have had the Blue, the Red, the Green, and here is the Yellow. If children are pleased, and they are so kind as to say that they are pleased, the Editor does not care very much for what other people may say. Now, there is one gentleman who seems to think that it is not quite right to print so many... more...

PREFACE. This book deals with the Dialect of the English Language that is spoken in Ireland. As the Life of a people—according to our motto—is pictured in their speech, our picture ought to be a good one, for two languages were concerned in it—Irish and English. The part played by each will be found specially set forth in Chapters IV and VII; and in farther detail throughout the whole book. The... more...