Fiction Books

A BLACK CONFERENCE. It was the night after the funeral. Ellice Lisle, the loving wife, devoted mother, kind mistress, and generous friend, had been laid away to rest; over her pulseless bosom had been thrown the red earth of her adopted Virginia, and, mingled with its mocking freshness, was the bitter rain of tears from the eyes of all who had known the lowly sleeper. Even Nature joined the general... more...

CHAPTER I. You are fond (said my aunt) of sketches of the society which has passed away. I wish I could describe to you Sir Philip Forester, the "chartered libertine" of Scottish good company, about the end of the last century. I never saw him indeed; but my mother's traditions were full of his wit, gallantry, and dissipation. This gay knight flourished about the end of the seventeenth and... more...

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PART ONE: MAKING THE MOULD I The company stood at attention, each man looking straight before him at the empty parade ground, where the cinder piles showed purple with evening. On the wind that smelt of barracks and disinfectant there was a faint greasiness of food cooking. At the other side of the wide field long lines of men shuffled slowly into the narrow wooden shanty that was the mess hall. Chins... more...

OF MURDERS AND MYSTERIES. As this little book was written some four years ago, I feel able to review it without prejudice. A new book just hot from the brain is naturally apt to appear faulty to its begetter, but an old book has got into the proper perspective and may be praised by him without fear or favor. "The Big Bow Mystery" seems to me an excellent murder story, as murder stories go, for,... more...

AN ODD FREAK "Speaking o' money," said the night-watchman thoughtfully, as he selected an empty soapbox on the wharf for a seat, "the whole world would be different if we all 'ad more of it. It would be a brighter and a 'appier place for everybody." He broke off to open a small brass tobacco-box and place a little quid of tobacco tenderly into a pouch in his left cheek,... more...

SEARCHING FOR REX "What train did Rex say he would be back on, Roy?" This was the question asked by Mrs. Pell at the breakfast table on the morning that Rex was trudging along the dusty road between New York and Philadelphia. "He didn't say," replied Roy. "He'll surely be home by lunch, though. Scott is going to West Chester with his mother at noon." Lunch hour arrived... more...

CHAPTER I A MAKE-BELIEVE FIGHT "Attention!" That was the word of command heard in the toy section of a large department store one night, after all the customers and clerks had gone home. "Attention!" "Dear me, what is going on?" asked a Calico Clown, as he looked around the corner of a pile of gaily colored building blocks. "Has the Sawdust Doll come back to see us?"... more...

X THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY The poet Longfellow—or was it Confucius, the inventor of wisdom?—remarked: "Life is real, life is earnest; And things are not what they seem." As mathematics are—or is: thanks, old subscriber!—the only just rule by which questions of life can be measured, let us, by all means, adjust our theme to the straight edge and the balanced column of the great goddess... more...

I AM TAKEN OUT OF THE PILLORY AND NARROWLY ESCAPE GOING TO THE WHIPPING-POST. As 'tis the present mode to embellish a history with a portrait of the writer, it will not be amiss if I here at the outset give you some hints by which you may see, as in a frontispiece, the image of that Benet Pengilly who is about to tell you many marvelous things. What kind of man I am you may better judge when you... more...