Fiction Books

I. LEGENDS AND EARLY HISTORY. In our books there are stories of five different races of people who made their way to Ireland in old times, with very exact accounts of their wanderings before their arrival, and of the battles they fought after landing. But these narratives cannot be depended on, for they are not real History but Legends, that is stories either wholly or partly . Of the five early races,... more...

I. We first met Glendenning on the Canadian boat which carries you down the rapids of the St. Lawrence from Kingston and leaves you at Montreal. When we saw a handsome young clergyman across the promenade-deck looking up from his guide-book toward us, now and again, as if in default of knowing any one else he would be very willing to know us, we decided that I must make his acquaintance. He was... more...

CHAPTER I Cautiously the young flight engineer stretched his cramped legs across some gadgets in his crowded little compartment. Leaning back in his swivel chair he folded a pair of freckled hands behind his neck and smiled at Lee. "This is it doctor; we're almost there." The tall and lanky man at the frame of the door didn't seem to understand. Bending forward he peered through the... more...

CHAPTER I THE NEW COACHMAN "Now you polish up those buckles real good, won't you, 'Zekiel? I will say for Fanshaw, you could most see your face in the harness always." The young fellow addressed rubbed away at the nickel plating good humoredly, although he had heard enough exhortations in the last twenty-four hours to chafe somewhat the spirit of youth. His mother, a large, heavy... more...

CHAPTER I I tell you,gentlemen, it's a rotten piece of business to be standing beside an old friend's open grave-simply disgusting. You stand with your feet planted in the upturned earth, and twirl your moustache and look stupid, while you feel like crying the soul out of your body. He was dead--there was no use wishing he weren't. In him was lost the greatest genius for concocting and... more...

CHAPTER I. THE HAY-LOFT I HAVE been asked to tell you about the back of the north wind. An old Greek writer mentions a people who lived there, and were so comfortable that they could not bear it any longer, and drowned themselves. My story is not the same as his. I do not think Herodotus had got the right account of the place. I am going to tell you how it fared with a boy who went there. He lived in a... more...

LECTURE I HOW TO ENTER IT; HOW TO USE IT; AND HOW TO ENJOY IT I HAVE promised to introduce you today to the fairy-land of science - a somewhat bold promise, seeing that most of you probably look upon science as a bundle of dry facts, while fairy- land is all that is beautiful, and full of poetry and imagination. But I thoroughly believe myself, and hope to prove to you, that science is full of... more...

The troupers of the Big Time lack no art to sway a crowd— or to change all history! ITo bring the dead to lifeIs no great magic.Few are wholly dead:Blow on a dead man's embersAnd a live flame will start.—Graves I dipped through the filmy curtain into the boys' half of the dressing room and there was Sid sitting at the star's dressing table in his threadbare yellowed undershirt, the... more...

ITALY The painted pottery of Italy, ever since its introduction into that country in the 15th century, has been called by the Italians themselves Maiolica. In England it was in the 18th century called Raphael ware, on account of an impression which existed that Raphael himself condescended to paint on some of the ware. The idea probably originated from the fact that many designs were reproduced on... more...

CHAPTER I A GAME OF BASEBALL “Now for a home run, Jack!” “Soak it out over the bleachers!” “Show the Hixley boys what we can do!” “Give him a swift one, Dink! Don’t let him hit it!” “Oh, dear, I do hope Jack scores!” came in a sweet, girlish voice. “Of course he’ll score!” returned a youth sitting near the girl who had made the remark. “He’s been holding back for just... more...