Fiction Books

INTRODUCTION. While Prudy was in Indiana visiting the Cliffords, and in the midst of her trials with mosquitoes, she said one day,— “I wouldn’t cry, Aunt ’Ria, only my heart’s breaking. The very next person that ever dies, I wish they’d ask God to please stop sending these awful skeeters. I can’t bear ’em any longer, now, certainly.” There was a look of utter despair on Prudy’s... more...

I O'DONOGHUE It was in a poor little cabin somewhere in Ireland. It does not matter where. The walls were of rough stone, the roof was of thatch, and the floor was the hard earth. There was very little furniture. Poor as it was, the whole place was clean. It is right to tell this, because, unhappily, a good many cabins in Ireland are not clean. What furniture there was had been rubbed smooth and... more...

CHAPTER I One bitter day in January in the year 1880, when New York was a tranquil city, a young man stood at the South Ferry waiting for the up-town horse car. With a few other passengers he had just left the packet which had arrived in New York harbour that afternoon from New Orleans. Antony Fairfax was an utter stranger to the North. In his hand he carried a small hand-bag, and by his side on the... more...

CHAPTER I HOW PETER MET THE SPANIARD It was a spring afternoon in the sixth year of the reign of King Henry VII. of England. There had been a great show in London, for that day his Grace opened the newly convened Parliament, and announced to his faithful people—who received the news with much cheering, since war is ever popular at first—his intention of invading France, and of leading the English... more...

CHAPTER I 'I am a realist,' said Mr. Edmund Lushington, as if that explained everything. 'We could hardly expect to agree,' he added. It sounded very much as if he had said: 'As you are not a realist, my poor young lady, I can of course hardly expect you to know anything.' Margaret Donne looked at him quietly and smiled. She was not very sensitive to other people's... more...

CHAPTER I "Hi hum," observed Mr. Joel Macomber, putting down his knife and fork with obvious reluctance and tilting back his chair. "Hi hum-a-day! Man, born of woman, is of few days and full of—of somethin', I forget what—George, what is it a man born of woman is full of?" George Kent, putting down his knife and fork, smiled and replied that he didn't know. Mr. Macomber... more...

Tensor gazed helplessly at the fine mist sifting down from a hazy, violet sky. "I told you I was having these spells." "But Great Oxy," the administrator sputtered, "can't you control yourself?" "I can't help it, Ruut," Tensor replied. "I just feel sort of funny and—and—" Ruut's hyperimage was chewing on its illusory lip. "Well, you've... more...

"Here's a letter for you, Harry," said George Howard. "I was passing the hotel on my way home from school when Abner Potts called out to me from the piazza, and asked me to bring it." The speaker was a bright, round-faced boy of ten. The boy whom he addressed was five or six years older. Only a week previous he had lost his father, and as the family consisted only of these two, he... more...

CHAPTER I. HEALTHFUL HOUSE. The carte de visite received that day, June 15, 189—, by the director of the establishment of Healthful House was a very neat one, and simply bore, without escutcheon or coronet, the name: COUNT D’ARTIGAS. Below this name, in a corner of the card, the following address was written in lead pencil: “On board the schooner Ebba, anchored off New-Berne, Pamlico Sound.”... more...

EVIL TIDINGS.  row of brick-built houses with slate roofs, at the edge of a large mining village in Staffordshire. The houses are dingy and colourless, and without relief of any kind. So are those in the next row, so in the street beyond, and throughout the whole village. There is a dreary monotony about the place; and if some giant could come and pick up all the rows of houses, and change their... more...