Fiction Books

CHAPTER I ROSALIE Rain, rain, rain! How mercilessly it fell on the Fair-field that Sunday afternoon! Every moment the pools increased and the mud became thicker. How dismal the fair looked then! On Saturday evening it had been brilliantly lighted with rows of flaring naphtha-lights; and the grand shows, in the most aristocratic part of the field, had been illuminated with crosses, stars, anchors, and... more...

Michael McGrath, Postmaster. Some men and some scenes so fasten themselves into one's memory that the years, with their crowding scenes and men, have no power to displace them. I can never forget "Ould Michael" and the scene of my first knowing him. All day long I rode, driving in front my pack-pony laden with my photograph kit, tent and outfit, following the trail that would end somewhere... more...

CHAPTER I. During the summer of 1840, the aspect of the political horizon in Affghanistān afforded but slight grounds for prognosticating the awful catastrophe which two short years after befel the British arms. Dost Mahommed had not yet given himself up, but was a fugitive, and detained by the King of Bokhara, while many of the principal Sirdars had already tendered their allegiance... more...

CHAPTER I If you go to Southampton and search the register of the Walloon Church there, you will find that in the summer of '57, "Madame Vefue de Montgomery with all her family and servants wereadmitted to the Communion"—"Tous ceux ce furent Recus la a Cene du'57, comme passans, sans avoir Rendu Raison de la foj, mes sur latesmognage de Mons. Forest, Ministre de Madame, quj... more...

OT really; you can't mean it really!""As true as possible. Mother told me her very own self," was the emphatic reply. Two children, brother and sister, the boy aged ten, the girl three years older, were carrying on this conversation in the garden of a country rectory. "But really and truly, on your word of honour," repeated Leonard, as though he could not believe what his sister... more...

CHAPTER ITHE EXODUS “Do you know, Peggy Raymond, that you haven’t made a remark for three-quarters of an hour, unless somebody asked you a question?–and, even then, your answers didn’t fit.” It was mid-June, and as happens not unfrequently in the month acknowledging allegiance to both seasons, spring had plunged headlong into summer, with no preparatory gradations from breezy coolness to... more...

THE LATEST CARD FORCE. Effect.—A pack of unprepared cards is shuffled by any member of the audience and handed to the performer, who requests one of the spectators to secretly note a card by simply raising a portion of the pack whilst held in the hand of the performer, who turns his head away whilst this is being done. The cards are again shuffled, and the performer instantly names the selected card.... more...

Michelangelo's Shoulder It dawned hot in Georgia. Don rubbed his head and blinked. He got out of bed and paused before a makeshift easel where a drawing, taped to a board, showed a woman sitting on a park bench. She was large, dressed in layers of multi-colored cotton. She reminded him of the Renoir woman in her plush living room, the dog sprawled at her feet, but she was smarter. The line across... more...

The early morning streetcar, swaying and rattling along its tracks, did as much to divert my attention from the book I was reading as the contents of the book itself. I did not like Plato. Comfortable though the seat was, I was as uncomfortable as any collegiate could be whose mind would rather dwell upon tomorrow's football game than the immediate task in hand—the morning session with Professor... more...

CHAPTER I SPRINGTIDE "Peggy, Maggie, Mag, Margaret, Marguerite, Muggins. Hum! Half a dozen of them. Wonder if there are any more? Yes, there's Peggoty and Peg, to say nothing of Margaretta, Gretchen, Meta, Margarita, Keta, Madge. My goodness! Is there any end to my nicknames? I mistrust I'm a very commonplace mortal. I wonder if other girls' names can be twisted around into as many... more...