Fiction Books

CANTO I.PRIMEVAL DAYS. Hear a song of ancient story, Of a city on a hillside, Of the valleys all about it, Of the forest and the wildwood, Of the deer that stalked within it, And the birds that flew above it, And the wolves and bears around it, Sole possessors and retainers Of the silent territory. Hear the song of its high mountains Of its gushing rills and streamlets, Of its leaping, rolling rivers,... more...

I. SITUATION AND EXTENT SOMERSET is one of the S.W. counties of England. On the N. it is washed by the Bristol Channel; on the N.E. the Avon, like a silver streak, divides it from Gloucestershire; it is bordered on the E. by Wiltshire; its S.E. neighbour is Dorset; and on the S.W. it touches Devon. Its shape is so irregular that dimensions give a misleading indication of its extent. Its extreme length... more...

Perhaps the greatest laboratory experiment in human conduct in the history of the world has been the development of our Army during the past two years. Under the provisions of the Selective Service Law, this Army has represented a cross section of American male humanity—even more representative indeed than was intended; for in the efforts of the Local Boards to send men who could best be spared, many... more...

The novel Alan sanded the house on Wales Avenue. It took six months, and the whole time it was the smell of the sawdust, ancient and sweet, and the reek of chemical stripper and the damp smell of rusting steel wool. Alan took possession of the house on January 1, and paid for it in full by means of an e-gold transfer. He had to do a fair bit of hand-holding with the realtor to get her set up and... more...

AD LEUCONOENNay, query not, Leuconoë, the finish of the fable;Eliminate the worry as to what the years may hoard!You only waste your time upon the Babylonian Table—(Slang for the Ouija board).And as to whether Jupiter, the final, unsurpassed one,May add a lot of winters to our portion here below,Or this impinging season is to be our very last one—Really, I'd hate to know.Apply yourself to... more...

I It was not because life was not good enough that Ellen Melville was crying as she sat by the window. The world, indeed, even so much of it as could be seen from her window, was extravagantly beautiful. The office of Mr. Mactavish James, Writer to the Signet, was in one of those decent grey streets that lie high on the northward slope of Edinburgh New Town, and Ellen was looking up the side-street... more...

It was market-day in Queningford. Aggie Purcell was wondering whether Mr. Hurst would look in that afternoon at the Laurels as he had looked in on other market-days. Supposing he did, and supposing Mr. Gatty were to look in, too, why then, Aggie said, it would be rather awkward. But whether awkward for herself, or for Mr. Gatty, or Mr. Hurst, or for all three of them together, Aggie was unable to... more...

Part I. "And some say, she expects to get him married to Rose Ellen before the year's out!" "I want to know if she does!" "Her sister married a minister, and her father was a deacon, so mebbe she thinks she's got a master-key to the Kingdom. But I don't feel so sure of her gettin' this minister for Rose Ellen. Some say he's so wropped up in his garden truck... more...

hen, in 1861, President Lincoln called for 75,000 volunteers to enlist for a three months’ service to uphold the authority and preserve the unity of the United States, I, a boy of nineteen, sought the first opportunity that offered, to enlist. I was at the door of the recruiting office long before it opened. Dr. D. W. Bliss, who afterward became a famous army surgeon and was one of the surgeons who... more...

BUD LEE WANTS TO KNOW Bud Lee, horse foreman of the Blue Lake Ranch, sat upon the gate of the home corral, builded a cigarette with slow brown fingers, and stared across the broken fields of the upper valley to the rosy glow above the pine-timbered ridge where the sun was coming up. His customary gravity was unusually pronounced. "If a man's got the hunch an egg is bad," he mused, "is... more...