Fiction Books

CHAPTER I He was thinking of the town he had known. Not of old New York—he had heard of that from old, old men when he himself had still been young and had smiled at their garrulity. He was thinking of a young New York, the mighty throbbing city to which he had come long ago as a lad from the New Hampshire mountains. A place of turbulent thoroughfares, of shouting drivers, hurrying crowds, the crack... more...

CHAPTER I. WHAT LUCK DID FOR THE CHUMS. "It was a long trip, fellows, but we're here at last, thank goodness!" "Yes, away up in the North Woods, at the hunting lodge of Trapper Jim!" "Say, it's hard to believe, and that's a fact. What do you say about it, you old stutterer, Toby Jucklin?" "B-b-bully!" exploded the boy, whose broad shoulders, encased in a... more...

On the day before Christmas of the year 1832, my friend Wilfred, with his double-bass slung over his back, and I, with my violin under my arm, started to walk from the Black Forest to Heidelberg. It was unusually snowy weather; as far as we could see across the great, deserted plain, there was no trace of road nor path. The wind kept up its harsh aria with monotonous persistency, and Wilfred, with his... more...

"Suzy, Suzy, Suzy!" Whit Clayborne looked at the luminous face of the bulkhead clock for the hundredth time that day. Sweat started out on his forehead, and he gripped his face with a convulsed hand, moaning in helpless anguish. "Suzy, Suzy, Suzy!" The clock clicked impersonally in the darkness, and Whit moaned again. The cold. The darkness. The quiet. And the solitude. But there was... more...

Chapter I THE MYSTERY OF THE RUG To judge of an Oriental rug rightly, it must be looked at from several points of view, or, at least, from two aspects; against the light and with the light. From the first standpoint, against the light of knowledge, speaking figuratively, there may be seen only a number of rude and awkward figures in crude colours scattered erratically on a dark or dingy-looking... more...

CHAPTER I. BIRTH AND EARLY LIFE OF TECUICHPO.Tell me, ascribest thou influence to the stars? “Wo! wo! wo! to the imperial House of Tenochtitlan! Never saw I the heavens in so inauspicious an aspect. Dark portentous influences appear on every side. May the horoscope of the infant daughter of Montezuma never be fulfilled.” These were the awful words of the priestly astrologer of Tenochtitlan, uttered... more...

ON SOME BOOKS AND THEIR ASSOCIATIONS New books can have few associations. They may reach us on the best deckle-edged Whatman paper, in the newest types of famous presses, with backs of embossed vellum, with tasteful tasselled strings,—and yet be no more to us than the constrained and uneasy acquaintances of yesterday. Friends they may become to-morrow, the day after,—perhaps "hunc in annum et... more...

A DOMESTIC INTERIOR I The King of Jingalo had just finished breakfast in the seclusion of the royal private apartments. Turning away from the pleasantly deranged board he took up one of the morning newspapers which lay neatly folded upon a small gilt-legged table beside him. Then he looked at his watch. This action was characteristic of his Majesty: doing one thing always reminded him that presently he... more...

CHAPTER I. PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS. Writings on hygiene and health have been accessible for centuries, but never before have books and magazines on these subjects been as numerous as they are today. Most of the information is so general, vague and indefinite that only a few have the time and patience to read the thousands of pages necessary to learn what to do to keep well. The truth is to be found... more...

CHAPTER I. MY FIRST SEANCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. Not being acquainted with any "materializing medium," so termed, I obtained from Mr. Luther Colby, of Boston, a letter of introduction to Mrs. H. B. Fay, of that city, stating that I was desirous of visiting her seances. I called upon the lady and presented the letter, but found that she was out of health, and, for the present, had discontinued... more...