Fiction Books

The home of my ancestors. “The top of the morning to you, Terence,” cried the major, looking down upon me from the window of his bedroom. I was standing in front of the castle of Ballinahone—the seat of the O’Finnahans, my ancestors—on the banks of the beautiful Shannon, enjoying the fresh air of the early morning. “Send Larry up, will you, with a jug of warm water for shaving; and, while I... more...

CHAPTER I. Glenn and Joe—Their horses—A storm—A black stump—A rough tumble—Moaning—Stars—Light—A log fire—Tents, and something to eat—Another stranger, who turns out to be well known—Joe has a snack—He studies revenge against the black stump—Boone proposes a bear hunt. "Do you see any light yet, Joe?" "Not the least speck that ever was created, except the... more...

BY MEANS OF A PROLOGUE       It is a pleasure to present a work based on facets that discover, or once again manifest, the Liberator’s prodigious personality and work.     Providence, which seems to pamper the tasks of historians, since they are who best show God’s maximum work when studying men’s acts, has placed the inexhaustible quarry of Simon Bolivar's life and work before... more...

"Oh dear! what shall I do?" cried George, fretfully, one rainy afternoon. "Mamma, do tell me what to do." "And I'm so tired!" echoed Helen, who was lazily playing with a kitten in her lap. "I don't see why it should rain on a Friday afternoon, when we have no lessons to learn. We can't go out, and no one can come to see us. It's too bad, there!"... more...

THE LOVE-LIGHT. Long ago, in the days when our caged blackbirds never saw a king’s soldier without whistling impudently, “Come ower the water to Charlie,” a minister of Thrums was to be married, but something happened, and he remained a bachelor. Then, when he was old, he passed in our square the lady who was to have been his wife, and her hair was white, but she, too, was still unmarried. The... more...

The Wild West. Unroll the world’s map, and look upon the great northern continent of America. Away to the wild west, away toward the setting sun, away beyond many a far meridian, let your eyes wander. Rest them where golden rivers rise among peaks that carry the eternal snow. Rest them there. You are looking upon a land whose features are un-furrowed by human hands, still bearing the marks of the... more...

CHAPTER I A MAIDEN’S “HUMPH” A Farm-hand nodded in answer to a question asked him by Napoleon on the morning of Waterloo. The nod was false, or the emperor misunderstood—and Waterloo was lost. On the nod of a farm-hand rested the fate of Europe. This story may not be so important as the battle of Waterloo—and it may be. I think that Napoleon was sure to lose to Wellington sooner or later, and... more...

The Winner Max Mechenmal was an independent manager of a newspaper kiosk. He ate and drank well; he had relations with many women, but he was careful. Because his salary was insufficient, he occasionally permitted himself to take money from Ilka Leipke. Ilka Leipke was an unusually small, but well-developed, elegant whore, who attracted many men and women with her bizarre nature and apparently silly... more...

THE MAGIC EGG The pretty little theatre attached to the building of the Unicorn Club had been hired for a certain January afternoon by Mr. Herbert Loring, who wished to give therein a somewhat novel performance, to which he had invited a small audience consisting entirely of friends and acquaintances. Loring was a handsome fellow about thirty years old, who had travelled far and studied much. He had... more...

PREFACE The stories in this Fairy Book come from all quarters of the world. For example, the adventures of ‘Ball-Carrier and the Bad One’ are told by Red Indian grandmothers to Red Indian children who never go to school, nor see pen and ink. ‘The Bunyip’ is known to even more uneducated little ones, running about with no clothes at all in the bush, in Australia. You may see photographs of these... more...