Fiction Books

Chapter One. My Boy Audience. My name is Philip Forster, and I am now an old man. I reside in a quiet little village, that stands upon the sea-shore, at the bottom of a very large bay—one of the largest in our island. I have styled it a quiet village, and so it really is, though it boasts of being a seaport. There is a little pier or jetty of chiselled granite, alongside which you may usually observe... more...

THE OMINOUS WARNING ON SHIPBOARD "Submarine two points to starboard, sir!" shouted a voice. Instantly there was confusion; the captain sprang from the end of the bridge to the board behind the quartermaster and pushed a lever to the right. "Ralph, come out quickly; the second officer has just shouted to the captain that a submarine is in sight," said Alfred, as he rushed into the... more...

How He Came to KnowWhat the Birds Said   There is one thing that all the Birds are afraid of, and that is the thing that will happen when the Bird That Follows the Cuckoo flies into the Cuckoo's mouth. And what will happen then, asks my kind foster-child. When the Bird that Follows the Cuckoo flies into the Cuckoo's mouth the World will come to an end. All the Birds know that, but not all... more...

CHAPTER IA RESCUE BY MOONLIGHT "Help! Help!" The cry rang out despairingly over the almost-deserted beach at Golden Gate Park. Jumping up so suddenly that the checker-board went in one direction, the table in another, while the checkers rolled to every corner of the little volunteer life-saving station house, Eric Swift made a leap for the door. Quick as he was to reach the boat, he was none... more...

CHAPTER IUNDERGROUND TERRORS "Ay, lad," said the old miner, the pale flame of his cap-lamp lighting up his wrinkled face and throwing a distorted shadow on the wall of coal behind, "there's goin' to be a plenty of us killed soon." "Likely enough, if they're all as careless as you," Clem retorted. "Carelessness ain't got nothin' to do with it,"... more...

THE HEALTHFULNESS OF SINGING. The boy's voice, though an immature organ of delicate structure, is capable of much work, providing only that its mechanism be rightly used and not forced. Some people are unnecessarily nervous about boys; as a rule, under competent guidance, they will get nothing but good from vocal work. A cathedral organist wrote to me the other day:— "Our best solo boy, who... more...

OUR FIRST SORROW. "O, it is trouble very bad,Which causes us to weep;All last night long we were so sad,Not one of us could sleep." Sometimes they called us all three just "the boys." But I don't think that was fair. I may have been rather a tomboy, but I wasn't quite so bad as to be called a "boy." I was nine then— I mean I was nine at the beginning of the time I am... more...

CHAPTER I OUT FOR PRACTICE "Oh, what a splendid kick!" The yellow pigskin football went whizzing through the air, turning over and over in its erratic flight. "Wow! Look at old Sorreltop run, will you?" "He's bound to get under it, too. That's going some, fellows! Oh, shucks!" "Ha! ha! a fumble and a muff, after all! That's too bad, after such a great gallop.... more...

Big Reuben’s Raid “ Wake up, boys! Wake up! Tumble out, there! Quick! Big Reuben’s into the pig-pen again!” Our bedroom door was banged wide open, and my father stood before us—a startling apparition—dressed only in his night-shirt and a pair of boots, carrying a stable-lantern in one hand and a rifle in the other. “What is it?” cried Joe, as he bounced out of bed; and, “Where is... more...

THE BRACELETS. In a beautiful and retired part of England lived Mrs. Villars, a lady whose accurate understanding, benevolent heart, and steady temper, peculiarly fitted her for the most difficult, as well as most important of all occupations—the education of youth. This task she had undertaken; and twenty young persons were put under her care, with the perfect confidence of their parents. No young... more...