Fiction Books

CHAPTER I. "Let the boy go to Paris," exclaimed our guest, Roland Belloc. "I warrant he'll find a path that will lead him to fortune." "He is young," said my father doubtfully. "He will be killed," cried my mother, while I stood upright against the wall and looked at Roland gratefully. It was in 1650, in the days of the Regency, and all France was in an uproar. Our... more...

SIR, The Bible lately presented to the Royal Society by Count de Salis, being a version into a language as little attended to in this country, as it may appear curious to those who take pleasure in philological inquiries; I embrace this opportunity to communicate to you, and, with your approbation, to the Society, all that I have been able to collect concerning its history and present state. This... more...

og lay heavy on the North Sea, fog wreathed the land, fog crept into a man's very bones. Meanwhile the ships were locked in the harbor. Gaar lay stretched on the skin before the fire and cursed the fog. How much longer was this infernal whiteness going to last? A man was thirty years old, in the prime of his life, with the blood running hot through the seven foot length of him. How much longer was... more...

CHAPTER I. "Does it never rain here?" asked the Latest Arrival, with sudden shift of the matter under discussion. "How is that, Bentley?" said the officer addressed to the senior present, the surgeon. "You've been here longest." "Don't know, I'm sure," was the languid answer. "I've only been here three years. Try 'Tonio there. He was born... more...

CHAPTER I. A FRIGHTFUL ACCIDENT. Just at sunset, one bright spring day, the car that plies up and down the inclined plane leading from the foot of Main street up the hills to the Zoological Gardens, of Cincinnati, started to make the ascent with its load of precious human freight. The car was full of passengers, though not crowded, while among the occupants there were several young people, whose bright... more...

CHAPTER I. A PRETTY WOMAN LAYS A PLOT, AND HIRES A GARDENER. "By Jove! I have missed her; you are a very Circe, Mrs. Tompkins." The speaker, one of the handsomest men I have ever seen, started to his feet as a beautiful Italian mantel clock rang in silver chimes the hour of midnight. "Sit down again my dear Captain, I have not told you all, and am a wilful woman and must have my way. I know... more...

THE FIVE GIANTS. When I was a boy, few things pleased me better than to hear a tale about a giant. Silly and untrue as were the stories that I heard, they vastly delighted me; but were you now to ask what information they gave me, or what good I gathered from them, sadly should I be at fault for a reply. But if a tale about giants, that was not true, and that added nothing to my knowledge, amused me,... more...

PREFACE. To Mayall the Valley of the Mohawk was a land where flowers bloomed, where one fair girl flitted about through green glades and virgin forests, and lifted his mind to the supernatural, and he seemed to listen to the voice of seraphs. Then sweet memory brought him again to the morning of life, and he stood by his mother's knee, and leaned upon the cradle where he was rocked to soothe his... more...

CHAPTER I INTRODUCING FOUR BOYS "Hurrah, boys, it's snowing at last! Aren't you glad?" "Glad? You bet I'm glad, Snap! Why I've been watching for this storm for about six months!" "There you go, Whopper!" answered Charley Dodge, with a grin. "Six months indeed! Why, we haven't been home six months." "Well, it seems that long anyway," said... more...

And so I am to write a story—but of what, and where? Shall it be radiant with the sky of Italy? or eloquent with the beau ideal of Greece? Shall it breathe odor and languor from the orient, or chivalry from the occident? or gayety from France? or vigor from England? No, no; these are all too old—too romance-like—too obviously picturesque for me. No; let me turn to my own land—my own New... more...