Fiction Books

CHAPTER I. THE BOHEMIANS. Early one morning in the month of March, 1770, a woman bearing in her arms a new-born infant, was hastening along the left bank of the Garden, a small river that rises in the Cevennes, traverses the department of the Gard, and empties into the Rhone, not far from Beaucaire. It would be difficult to find more varied and picturesque scenery than that which borders this stream... more...

In the order of our Library "Mr. Punch with the Children" comes last, yet, so continual and sincere has been the interest of the breezy little man in the children, we might well have placed this volume first. The Punch pictures, stories and jests that are concerned with the young folk are almost inexhaustible. The present collection, though containing the cream of them, comes very far indeed... more...

The girl and her chaperon had been deposited early in the desirable second-story window in Durfee, looking down on the tree. Brant was a senior and a "Bones" man, and so had a leading part to play in the afternoon's drama. He must get the girl and the chaperon off his hands, and be at his business. This was "Tap Day." It is perhaps well to explain what "Tap Day" means;... more...

INDIANS AND THEIR STORIES The most shameful chapter of American history is that in which is recorded the account of our dealings with the Indians. The story of our government's intercourse with this race is an unbroken narrative of injustice, fraud, and robbery. Our people have disregarded honesty and truth whenever they have come in contact with the Indian, and he has had no rights because he has... more...

he last light in the Galaxy was a torch. High in the rafters of Mytor's Cafe Yaroto it burned, and its red glare illuminated a gallery of the damned. Hands that were never far from blaster or knife; eyes that picked a hundred private hells out of the swirling smoke where a woman danced. She was good to look at, moving in time to the savage rhythm of the music. The single garment she wore bared her... more...

Psalm 11:1Blessed is the man who doesn't walk in the counsel of the wicked,nor stand in the way of sinners,nor sit in the seat of scoffers;1:2but his delight is in Yahweh's law.On his law he meditates day and night.1:3He will be like a tree planted by the streams of water,that brings forth its fruit in its season,whose leaf also does not wither.Whatever he does shall prosper.1:4The wicked are... more...

One cold morning in March, Bobby Hill was wakened by a sound he had not heard since last Fall, "Chirp, chirp, cheer-up." "That sounds just like a robin," he thought. He sat up in bed and looked out of the window. It was a cold, dark, stormy morning. Heavy clouds covered the sky. The North wind was blowing the snow hither and thither. Bobby leaned nearer the window so he could see the... more...

ITo the gods themselves is due the discovery, to Apollo and Artemis, patrons of the chase and protectors of the hound. (1) As a guerdon they bestowed it upon Cheiron, (2) by reason of his uprightness, and he took it and was glad, and turned the gift to good account. At his feet sat many a disciple, to whom he taught the mystery of hunting and of chivalry (3)—to wit, Cephalus, Asclepius, Melanion,... more...

THE LAY OF MARIE. CANTO FIRST.     The guests are met, the feast is near,    But Marie does not yet appear!    And to her vacant seat on high    Is lifted many an anxious eye.    The splendid show, the sumptuous board,    The long details which feuds afford,    And discontent is prone to hold,    Absorb the factious and the cold;—    Absorb dull minds, who, in... more...

Fred Trent pulled his coupe into the curb and leaned his head out the open window beside him. "Hi, Joan, need any help?" He called to a trim-looking girl in a nurse's uniform. Joan Drake was holding on to a leash with both hands, and her slender body was tugging against the leash as she strained against the pull of a Great Dane on the other end. She looked over her shoulder as Trent called... more...