General Books

Dere Mable Love Letters of a Rookie Dere Mable: I guess you thought I was dead. Youll never know how near you was to right. We got the tents up at last, though, so I got a minit to rite. I guess they choose these camps by mail order. The only place there flat is on the map. Where our tents is would make a good place for a Rocky Mountin goat if he didnt break his neck. The first day the Captin came out... more...

JACK THE KAISER KILLER Camp Grant, Sept. 23. FRIEND AL: Well Al I am writeing this in the recreation room at our barracks and they's about 20 other of the boys writeing letters and I will bet some of the letters is rich because half of the boys can't talk english to say nothing about writeing letters and etc. We got a fine bunch in my Co. Al and its a cinch I won't never die in the... more...

(The necessity of a work on Snobs, demonstrated from History, and proved by felicitous illustrations:—I am the individual destined to write that work—My vocation is announced in terms of great eloquence—I show that the world has been gradually preparing itself for the WORK and the MAN—Snobs are to be studied like other objects of Natural Science, and are a part of the Beautiful (with a large... more...

chapter i The way I look at this thing is this way: If something happens to you and by writing about it you can make a bit of money and at the same time be a benefactor to the race, then why not? Does not the philanthropic aspect of the proposition more than balance off the mercenary side? I hold that it does, or at least that it should, in the estimation of all fair-minded persons. It is to this class... more...

BEST SHORT STORIES THE POINT OF HONOR A young lieutenant was passed by a private, who failed to salute. The lieutenant called him back, and said sternly: "You did not salute me. For this you will immediately salute two hundred times." At this moment the General came up. "What's all this?" he exclaimed, seeing the poor private about to begin. The lieutenant explained. "This... more...

It is agreed on all Hands, that Betty Ireland was a younger Daughter by a second Venter; let, at first, to run wild in the Woods, cloathed with Skins and fed with Acorns; till a famous Hunter took her in his Toils, and, liking her Countenance, gave her to a Son of his, a Lad, to bring up. The Girl was born to a good Estate, but ill tenanted, and run to waste. Her Farms neither meared or bounded, her... more...

Un libro polémico acerca de los mitos sobre el país de "Pura Vida" que abarca una crítica mordaz a la cultura woke y al movimiento lbgtq.

VOLUME 1 GROTESQUE SKETCHES    

PREFACE. Again it come to pass, in the fulness of time, that my companion, Josiah Allen, see me walk up and take my ink stand off of the manteltry piece, and carry it with a calm and majestick gait to the corner of the settin' room table devoted by me to literary pursuits. And he sez to me: "What are you goin' to tackle now, Samantha?" And sez I, with quite a good deal of dignity,... more...

The boy hesitated as he looked down the wet street of the little country town. "I've 'arf a mind not to go," he said, "blessed if I ain't——;" then, after a pause, with hands in pockets and coat collar turned up, he lounged off, muttering, "I'll see what Bill ses." Bill was waiting at the corner, looking somewhat sheepishly at the miscellaneous display in... more...