Fiction Books

CHAPTER I THE MINER'S REASONS A furious blizzard was raging. Six or eight miners of various ages were huddled around the stove in a little road-house where they were likely to remain storm-bound for several days. "Chuck some more wood into that bloomin' fire and fill up my pipe if you fellers want a yarn from me," said one, when they had besieged him for a story with which to pass the... more...

CHAPTER XIII After that one calling of her name Alan's voice was dead, and he made no movement. He could not disbelieve. It was not a mental illusion or a temporary upsetting of his sanity. It was truth. The shock of it was rending every nerve in his body, even as he stood as if carved out of wood. And then a strange relaxation swept over him. Some force seemed to pass out of his flesh, and his... more...

CHAPTER I. "BEAUTY OF THE BRIGADES." "I don't say but what he's difficult to please with his Tops," said Mr. Rake, factotum to the Hon. Bertie Cecil, of the 1st Life Guards, with that article of hunting toggery suspended in his right hand as he paused, before going upstairs, to deliver his opinions with characteristic weight and vivacity to the stud-groom, "he is uncommon... more...

PREFACE The idea of this tale was taken from The Mariners’ Chronicle, compiled by a person named Scott early in the last century—a curious book of narratives of maritime adventures, with exceedingly quaint illustrations.  Nothing has ever shown me more plainly that truth is stranger than fiction, for all that is most improbable here is the actual fact. The Comte de Bourke was really an Irish... more...

TARTARIN ON THE ALPS. I. Apparition on the Rigi-Kulm. Who is it? What was said arounda table of six hundred covers. Rice and Prunes, Animprovised ball. The Unknown signs his name on the hotelregister, P. C. A. On the 10th of August, 1880, at that fabled hour of the setting sun so vaunted by the guide-books Joanne and Baedeker, an hermetic yellow fog, complicated with a flurry of snow in white spirals,... more...

CHRISTMAS REVIVED. It was six o'clock in the morning of last Thursday (Christmas morning), when Nathan Stoddard, a young saddler, strode through the vacant streets of one of our New England towns, hastening to begin his work. The town is an old-fashioned one, and although the observance of the ancient church festival is no longer frowned upon, as in years past, yet it has been little regarded,... more...

"Here, Uncle Ike, let me give you a nice piece of paper, twisted up beautifully, to light your pipe," said the red-headed boy, as Uncle Ike, with his long clay pipe, filled with ill-smelling tobacco, was feeling in his vest pocket for a match. "I should think nice white paper would be sweeter to light a pipe with than a greasy old match scratched on your pants," and the boy lighted a... more...

PECK'S BAD BOY. CHAPTER I. THE BOY WITH A LAME BACK—THE BOY COULDN'T SIT DOWN—APRACTICAL JOKE ON THE OLD MAN—A LETTER FROM "DAISY"—GUARDING THE FOUR CORNERS—THE OLD MAN IS UNUSUALLYGENEROUS—MA ASKS AWKWARD QUESTIONS—THE BOY TALKED TO WITHA BED-SLAT—NO ENCOURAGEMENT FOR A BOY! A young fellow who is pretty smart on general principles, and who is always in good humor,... more...

CHAPTER I. CONFUSION IN THE SHIP. "All hands pipe to muster, ahoy!" screamed the new boatswain of the Young America, as he walked towards the forecastle of the ship, occasionally sounding a shrill blast upon his whistle. At the same time the corresponding officer in the Josephine performed a similar service; and in a moment every officer and seaman in both vessels had taken his station. The... more...

I John Durham, while he waited for Madame de Malrive to draw on her gloves, stood in the hotel doorway looking out across the Rue de Rivoli at the afternoon brightness of the Tuileries gardens. His European visits were infrequent enough to have kept unimpaired the freshness of his eye, and he was always struck anew by the vast and consummately ordered spectacle of Paris: by its look of having been... more...