Fiction Books

LAWYER QUINCE Lawyer Quince, so called by his neighbours in Little Haven from his readiness at all times to place at their disposal the legal lore he had acquired from a few old books while following his useful occupation of making boots, sat in a kind of wooden hutch at the side of his cottage plying his trade. The London coach had gone by in a cloud of dust some three hours before, and since then the... more...

If we knew how the words in our language were made and what they have meant to successive generations of the men and women who have used them, we should have a new and very interesting kind of history to read. For words, like all other creations of man, were not deliberately manufactured to meet a need, as are the various parts of a bicycle or of an automobile; but grew gradually and slowly out of... more...

CHAPTER I. "What are you going to do with yourself this evening, Alfred?" said Mr. Royal to his companion, as they issued from his counting-house in New Orleans. "Perhaps I ought to apologize for not calling you Mr. King, considering the shortness of our acquaintance; but your father and I were like brothers in our youth, and you resemble him so much, I can hardly realize that you are not... more...

Chapter I. The Unexpected Happens. And foorth they passe with pleasure forward led. —Spenser. BARBARA'S HOME."O Barbara! do you think papa and mamma will let us go? Can they afford it? Just to think of Italy, and sunshine, and olive trees, and cathedrals, and pictures! Oh, it makes me wild! Will you not ask them, dear Barbara? You are braver than I, and can talk better about it all. How can... more...

LETTER I. TO MISS LUCY FREEMAN. NEW HAVEN An unusual sensation possesses my breast—a sensation which I once thought could never pervade it on any occasion whatever. It is pleasure, pleasure, my dear Lucy, on leaving my paternal roof. Could you have believed that the darling child of an indulgent and dearly-beloved mother would feel a gleam of joy at leaving her? But so it is. The melancholy, the... more...

CHAPTER 1 3 May. Bistritz.--Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as... more...

"Blast them!" the writer groaned in bitter accents. "How I hate those B. E. M's.!" "Hang them!" the artist yelled. "How I hate those B. E. M's.!" "Darn them!" the B. E. M. moaned. "How I hate those humans!" The artist and the writer sat staring at each other in wordless misery, their coffee untasted and their spirits at low ebb. Up above, in the... more...

The tadpoles of this species have been described by Bragg (Copeia, 1936: 14-20, figs. 1-13; Amer. Midl. Nat., 18:273-284, figs. 1-5, 1937). The drawings and descriptions of the mouthparts, however, appear to have been taken from dried, or immature, or transforming individuals, for they do not agree among themselves nor do they agree with larvae obtained in the field and now in the Museum of Natural... more...

GOSSIPING HISTORY. "This is the Jew That Shakspeare drew." I do not know by whom or when the above couplet was first imputed to Pope. The following extracts will show how a story grows, and the parasites which, under unwholesome cultivation, adhere to it. The restoration of Shakspeare's text, and the performance of Shylock as a serious part, are told as usual. "In the dumb action of... more...

Ludvig Holberg is generally considered the most remarkable of Danish writers. Though he produced books on international law, finance, and history, as well as satires, biographies, and moral essays, he is chiefly celebrated for his comedies, which still—nearly two hundred years after then composition—delight large audiences in Denmark, and bid fair to be immortal. These comedies were the fruit of... more...