Fiction Books

his news," said Cliff Hynes, pointing to the newspaper, "means the end of homo Americanus."Out of the Antarctic it came—a wall of viscid, grey, half-human jelly, absorbing and destroying all life that it encountered.The newspaper in question was the hour-sheet of the International Broadcast Association, just delivered by pneumatic tube at the laboratory. It was stamped 1961, Month 13, Day... more...

PREFACE It comes to me as a very welcome piece of news, and yet a piece of news which I have been long expecting, that a special American edition of Edmund Leamy's Irish fairy tales is about to be published. This, then, will be the third issue of the little book. I venture to predict that it will not be the last; and I fancy the American publisher who has had the judgment to take the matter up... more...

Chapter One. The Ban. The grey London sunlight shone on the face of the patient as she sat facing the long window of the consulting-room, on the finely cut features, sensitive lips, and clear, dilated eyes. The doctor sat in the shadow, leaning back in his chair, tapping softly with his fingers upon the desk. “And you must not be afraid,” he said, following a vigorous cross-questioning with his... more...

The author of Lavengro, the Scholar, the Gypsy, and the Priest has after his fitful hour come into his own, and there abides securely.  Borrow’s books,—carelessly written, impatient, petulant, in parts repellant,—have been found so full of the elixir of life, of the charm of existence, of the glory of motion, so instinct with character, and mood, and wayward fancy, that their very names are... more...

New Lamps "The fault I find with the Kingfield High School," proclaimed Kathleen Wilcox, squatting on the top of a boot locker, and putting on a new pair of patent leather house shoes with a deliberate eye to their effect upon her surrounding friends and foes, "the fault I find—yes, I do find fault and I shall, Lesbia Ferrars, though you are the oldest pupil and take the school under your... more...

I THE LITTLE LOST FOX Marmaduke was sitting on the fence. He wasn't thinking of anything in particular, just looking around. Jehosophat called to him from the barnyard,— "Come'n an' play 'I spy.'" But Marmaduke only grumbled,— "Don't want to." "Well, let's play 'Cross Tag' then," Jehosophat suggested. "Don't want to,"... more...

CHAPTER I. A GOOD NAME. "She was an excellent woman." "Yes, there are few such left." "She was one of the old school." "Go to her when you would, her help and counsel were always ready." "And how much she went through! She buried her husband and four children, yet was always brave and cheerful." "Ah, Lenz will miss her sorely. He will find out now what a... more...

CHAPTER I. "Since I can do no good because a woman,Reach constantly at something that is near it.—The Maid's Tragedy: BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. Miss Brooke had that kind of beauty which seems to be thrown into relief by poor dress. Her hand and wrist were so finely formed that she could wear sleeves not less bare of style than those in which the Blessed Virgin appeared to Italian painters; and... more...

PREFATORY. In the History and Genealogies of Ancient Windsor, Conn., published in 1859, speaking of the influence of the old French wars upon the religious, moral and social life of New England, I used this language: "Then came war, and young New England brought from the long Canadian campaigns, stores of loose camp vices and recklessness, which soon flooded the land with immorality and infidelity.... more...

I The village postmaster stood staring at an official envelope that had just been shaken out of a mailbag upon the sorting-table. It was addressed to himself; and for a few moments his heart beat quicker, with sharp, clean percussions, as if it were trying to imitate the sounds made by the two clerks as they plied their stampers on the blocks. Perhaps this envelope contained his fate. Soon the stamping... more...