Fiction Books

CHAPTER I. THE COTTAGE BESIDE "THE CAUSEWAY" In a little cleft, not deep enough to be a gorge, between two grassy hills, traversed by a clear stream, too small to be called a river, too wide to be a rivulet, stood, and, I believe, still stands, a little cottage, whose one bay-window elevates it above the condition of a laboring-man's, and shows in its spacious large-paned proportions... more...

Scene: Dr. Peacock's house. Flem Truly, Dr. Peacock, you're a clever man. I've been a pharmacist for twenty-five years and never met a doctor who practiced medicine like you. Peacock Indeed, no other doctor of my acquaintance has penetrated nature as deeply as I have. But I don't like to praise myself; I can't stand flattery. I want you to come home with me to discuss an... more...

CHAPTER I ADVICE "You ought to get married, Miss Sylvia," said old Jeffcott, the head gardener, with a wag of his hoary beard. "You'll need to be your own mistress now." "I should hope I am that anyway," said, Sylvia with a little laugh. She stood in the great vinery—a vivid picture against a background of clustering purple fruit. The sunset glinted on her tawny hair. Her... more...

CHAPTER I.INTRODUCING MR. HOPKINS TOPPLETON.Mr. Hopkins Toppleton, Barrister of London and New York, was considered by his intimates a most fortunate young man. He was accounted the happy possessor of an income of something over fifty thousand dollars a year, derived from investments which time had shown to be as far removed from instability, and as little influenced by the fluctuations of the stock... more...

THE ENGLISH FLAPPERFrom Nature's anvil hot she hails,The forge still glowing on her cheek.Untamed as yet, Life still prevailsWithin her breast and fain would speak.But all the elfs upon the plain,And in the arbour where she lolls,Repeat the impudent refrain;Too young for babes, too old for dolls.Her fingers deft have guessed the knackOf making each advantage tell:Her hat, her hair still down her... more...

CHAPTER I. AN ONLY SON. Good Squire Tufton of Gablehurst lay dying. He had been ailing for many months, knowing his end to be near; and yet, as is so often the case in lingering declines, death was long in coming, so that those about him had grown used to the sight of the strong figure wasted to a shadow, and the face shadowed by the wings of the hovering messenger. Some members of the household,... more...

CHAPTER I PIRATE MISSILE Tense, excited men gazed spaceward from the ships and planes of the South Atlantic task force. Other watchers waited breathlessly in the control room of the ship Recoverer. Among these was Tom Swift Jr. "How close to earth is our Jupiter probe missile?" Bud Barclay asked Tom excitedly. The lanky blond youth beside him, in T shirt and slacks, shot a glance at the dials... more...

I receivedthe following letter from an old friend soon after the last edition of this book was published, and resolved, if ever another edition were called for, to print it. For it is clear from this and other like comments, that something more should have been said expressly on the subject of bullying, and how it is to be met."My dear ——, "I blame myself for not having earlier suggested... more...

Methinks, for a person whose instinct bids him rather to pore over the current of life, than to plunge into its tumultuous waves, no undesirable retreat were a toll-house beside some thronged thoroughfare of the land. In youth, perhaps, it is good for the observer to run about the earth, to leave the track of his footsteps far and wide,—to mingle himself with the action of numberless... more...

CHAPTER I HOW TOMMY FOUND A WAY O.P. Pym, the colossal Pym, that vast and rolling figure, who never knew what he was to write about until he dipped grandly, an author in such demand that on the foggy evening which starts our story his publishers have had his boots removed lest he slip thoughtlessly round the corner before his work is done, as was the great man's way—shall we begin with him, or... more...