Fiction Books

January.—Now the weather is very cold. There are no leaves upon the trees. The ground is frozen quite hard. Perhaps it is covered with snow. Every thing looks very cold and comfortless. A little boy or girl, when out of humor, reminds me of this month. Bring plenty of wood and make a good fire, that we may warm ourselves. February is a cold month, but the days are getting longer. Now the crocuses and... more...

ACT I The Wood-cutter's Cottage The cottage-scene in The Blue Bird: the interior of a wood-cutter's cabin, simple and rustic in appearance, but in no way poverty-stricken. A recessed fireplace containing the dying embers of a wood-fire. Kitchen-utensils, a cupboard, a bread-pan, a grandfather's clock, a spinning-wheel, a water-tap, etc. A dog and a cat asleep. A large blue-and-white... more...

ACT ONE Scene.—The Island Leucadia. A ruined temple of Apollo near the town of Pharo. Broken columns and stones are strewn, or stand desolately about. It is night—the moon rising. Antonio, who has been waiting impatiently, seats himself on a stone. By a road near the ruins Fulvia enters, cloaked.Antonio(turning): Helen——!Fulvia:A comely name, my lord.Antonio:Ah, you?My father's... more...

STALEMATE Macklin said, "Please put that weapon down, Mr. Cornell. Let's not add attempted murder to your other crimes." "Don't force me to it, then," I told him. But I knew I couldn't do it. I hated them all. I wanted the whole Highways in Hiding rolled up like an old discarded carpet, with every Mekstrom on Earth rolled up in it. But I couldn't pull the trigger.... more...

THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK Headlong Hall The novels of Thomas Love Peacock still find admirers among cultured readers, but his extravagant satire and a certain bookish awkwardness will never appeal to the great novel-reading public. The son of a London glass merchant, Peacock was born at Weymouth on October 18, 1785. Early in life he was engaged in some mercantile occupation, which, however, he did not follow... more...

Kalus* was wakened that morning by the sound of stalking footsteps. Reaching instinctively for his spear, he raised himself slowly and turned to face the sound. *which means, 'The Carnivore.' There before him, shrouded in the shadows of early morning, he perceived an ominous silhouette. It was Akar, the lone he-wolf that had followed his tribe for some time, living off the gnarled scraps of... more...

INTRODUCTION When Mr. Davis wrote the story of "The Deserter," he could not possibly have foreseen that it was to be his last story—the last of those short stories which gave him such eminence as a short-story writer. He apparently was as rugged and as vigorous as ever. And yet, had he sat down to write a story which he knew was to be his last, I do not think he could have written one more... more...

CHAPTER I THE LAIRD OF GLENCARDINE "Why, what's the matter, child? Tell me." "Nothing, dad—really nothing." "But you are breathing hard; your hand trembles; your pulse beats quickly. There's something amiss—I'm sure there is. Now, what is it? Come, no secrets." The girl, quickly snatching away her hand, answered with a forced laugh, "How absurd you really... more...

PAUL DOMBEY AND FLORENCEON THE BEACH AT BRIGHTON PAUL DOMBEY AND FLORENCEON THE BEACH AT BRIGHTON"Dombey and Son," Chapter VIIIHis favourite spot was quite a lonely one, far away from most loungers; and with Florence sitting by his side at work, or reading to him, or talking to him, and the wind blowing on his face, and the water coming up among the wheels of his bed, he wanted nothing more.... more...

"Attention, Inner-Flight ship! Attention! You are ordered to land at the Control Station on Deimos for inspection. Attention! You are to land at once!" The metallic rasp of the speaker echoed through the corridors of the great ship. The passengers glanced at each other uneasily, murmuring and peering out the port windows at the small speck below, the dot of rock that was the Martian checkpoint,... more...