Fiction Books

CHAPTER I. THE TWO POETS OF SAFFRON PARK THE suburb of Saffron Park lay on the sunset side of London, as red and ragged as a cloud of sunset. It was built of a bright brick throughout; its sky-line was fantastic, and even its ground plan was wild. It had been the outburst of a speculative builder, faintly tinged with art, who called its architecture sometimes Elizabethan and sometimes Queen Anne,... more...

CHAPTER I MR. WRENN IS LONELY The ticket-taker of the Nickelorion Moving-Picture Show is a public personage, who stands out on Fourteenth Street, New York, wearing a gorgeous light-blue coat of numerous brass buttons. He nods to all the patrons, and his nod is the most cordial in town. Mr. Wrenn used to trot down to Fourteenth Street, passing ever so many other shows, just to get that cordial nod,... more...

CHAPTER I. BY WAY OF BEGINNING. It was not just an ordinary sort of name, but one of those which made you think "thereby hangs a tale." In this case the thought goes to the mark, and the tale in question will be told after a fashion in the following pages. At the outset a quick glance back to times long past is necessary in order to a fair start, and without a fair start it were hardly worth... more...

IMPRESSIONS AND COMMENTS July 24, 1912.—I looked out from my room about ten o'clock at night. Almost below the open window a young woman was clinging to the flat wall for support, with occasional floundering movements towards the attainment of a firmer balance. In the dim light she seemed decently dressed in black; her handkerchief was in her hand; she had evidently been sick. Every few moments... more...

DUST In the dull hot dusk of a summer's day a green touring-car, swinging out of the East Drive, pulled up smartly, trembling, at the edge of the Fifty-ninth Street car-tracks, then more sedately, under the dispassionate but watchful eye of a mounted member of the Traffic Squad, lurched across the Plaza and merged itself in the press of vehicles south-bound on the Avenue. Its tonneau held four... more...

THE WIDOW'S TAVERN The morning of that day—it was a Tuesday of the Lenten season—could not have dawned more promisingly. The sea, off the Cabañal, was in flat calm, as smooth as a polished mirror. Not the slightest ripple broke the shimmering triangular wake that the sun sent shoreward over the lifeless surface of the water. The fishing fleet had headed, bright and early, for the grounds off... more...

"But I know what I need. I need you." There was a dogged tone in Elijah Berl's voice that was almost sullenly insistent. "I have given you all that I have to give, Elijah. You don't need me. What you need is money, and that's what I haven't got." "And I say again that I have thought of this for five years. Ever since I left New England. I have not been alone, I... more...

THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES Among the reminiscences of Socrates, none, as it seems to me, is more deserving of record than the counsel he took with himself (after being cited to appear before the court), not only with regard to his defence, but also as to the ending of his life. Others have written on this theme, and all without exception have touched upon the lofty style of the philosopher, which may be... more...

CHAPTER I. AN INVITATION FOR TOM AND HUCK [Note: Strange as the incidents of this story are, theyare not inventions, but facts—even to the public confessionof the accused. I take them from an old-time Swedishcriminal trial, change the actors, and transfer the scenesto America. I have added some details, but only a couple ofthem are important ones. — M. T.] WELL, it was the next spring after me and... more...

INTRODUCTORY. Late in the day of the 30th October, 1870, the agitation was great in Paris; the news had spread that the village of Le Bourget had been retaken by the Prussians. The military report had done what it could to render the pill less bitter by saying that "this village did not form a part of the system of defence," but the people though kept in ignorance perceived instinctively that... more...