Fiction Books

Eighteen men and two women in the closed world of a space ship for five months can only spell tension and trouble—but in this case, the atmosphere was literally poisoned.   Five months out from Earth, we were half-way to Saturn and three-quarters of the way to murder. At least, I was. I was sick of the feuding, the worries and the pettiness of the other nineteen aboard. My stomach heaved at the bad... more...

The two men attacked the thick tree trunk with a weary savagery. In the bright sunlight, glistening spatters of sweat flew from them as the old axes bit alternately into the wood. Blackie stood nearby, on the gravel shoulder of the highway, rubbing his short beard as he considered the depth of the white notch. Turning his broad, tanned face to glance along the patched and cracked concrete to where... more...

INTRODUCTION. It is true that good manners, like good morals, are best taught by the teacher's example. It is also true that definite lessons, in which the subject can be considered in its appropriate divisions, are of no little value if we would have our children attain to "that finest of the fine arts, a beautiful behavior." Such lessons should be as familiar and conversational as... more...

THE RIGHT OF WAY. MR. EDWARD BOLTON had purchased himself a farm, and taken possession thereof. Once, while examining the premises, before deciding to buy, he had observed a light wagon moving along on the extreme south edge of the tract of land included in the farm, but it had occasioned no remark. It was late in the afternoon when he arrived with his family at their new home. On the morning that... more...

LESSON I. MOODS AND FRAMES OF MIND.                 "That blessed mood   In which the burden of the mystery,   In which the heavy and the weary weight   Of all this unintelligible world   Is lightened." WORDSWORTH.   "Oh, blessed temper, whose unclouded ray   Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day."   POPE.   "My heart and mind and self, never in... more...

APPENDIX I. It seems impossible to separate by any exact line the genuine writings of Plato from the spurious. The only external evidence to them which is of much value is that of Aristotle; for the Alexandrian catalogues of a century later include manifest forgeries. Even the value of the Aristotelian authority is a good deal impaired by the uncertainty concerning the date and authorship of the... more...

From the roof of the legal bookstore, I have a clear shot at my target, Jon Russell. He's sitting down at a table outside a café where Chancery Lane meets Fleet Street, sipping a cardboard cup of coffee. I briefly ponder how ironic it seems that he's actually bought a drink; it must be for show, although there's no way that he can tell that right now he has a very specific audience.... more...

"SHE HAS NO SETTLEMENT, DAMN IT." "She can't come." "But, father——" "She shan't come, then—if you like that better." "But, father——" "Aye, of course, it's 'But father'—I might have known it would be that. However, you may 'But father' me to the end of my time, you don't move me. I tell you, Sukey,... more...

CHAPTER I THE HOUSEHOLD AT HILLPORT She was walking, with her customary air of haughty and rapt leisure, across the market-place of Bursley, when she observed in front of her, at the top of Oldcastle Street, two men conversing and gesticulating vehemently, each seated alone in a dog-cart. These persons, who had met from opposite directions, were her husband, John Stanway, the earthenware manufacturer,... more...

CHAPTER I "To deliver thee from the strange woman!"—The Bible. "Who found the kitten?" "Me," quavered the childish voice. Lady Susan Hetth tchcked with her tongue against her rather prominent teeth at the lamentable lapse in grammar, and looked crossly at Leonie, who immediately lifted up the quavering voice and wept. Sobs too big for such a little girl shook the slender body,... more...