Fiction Books

A visit to any modern French Art Gallery will reveal a number of canvases daubed all over with little patches of primary colours, almost as though the picture had been painted with confetti. Assuming you are unaccustomed to this form of application, you will declare against it with insular...

The Fame of the Count’s brave Actions arriv’d before him, and he had the Satisfaction of being receiv’d[2] by the King and Court, after a Manner that might gratify the Ambition of the proudest. The Beauty of his Person, the Gayity of his Air, and the unequal’d Charms of his Conversation...

Everything about Colonel Corbin had reached the stage of genteel shabbiness—a shabbiness which is the exclusive mark of gentlemen. His dignified frock-coat was white about the seams with much brushing, and the tall, old-fashioned “stock” which supported his chin was neatly but obviously...

The following tales of the samurai, the knights of old Japan, are based largely on real facts. They have been adapted from among traditional stories related by kōdanshi, story-tellers, who nightly delight large audiences with romances and historical stories, especially the noble deeds of the...

The boys determine to set out in search of "The Rambler Club's Gold Mine," as they call it, undaunted by the thought of possible dangers which the wilderness may have in store for them. Life amid the solitudes of nature, with only the sky as a canopy, has taught them the lesson that hardships and...

Do not think, dear girls, that because you are girls you may not have as much courage as your brothers. I believe that quite as stout hearts beat beneath muslin frocks as under stuff jackets. When you have finished reading this book about your sisters, perhaps—if you do not already—you will...

Kak was an Eskimo boy who lived in Victoria Island in Canada. He belonged to the Copper Eskimos. This name does not refer in any way to their complexions as “red Indians,” but is given because the people make all their knives and implements out of copper. As far as looks went Kak was quite...

“Lord! what a haul!” Elliott murmured to himself, glancing over his letter while he waited with the horses for Margaret, who had said that she would be just twelve minutes in putting on her riding-costume. The letter was from an old-time Colorado acquaintance who was then superintending a...

Among the passengers who alighted from the train at the terminus of Shepperton, the little village near the Thames, one evening in early summer, was a young man differing noticeably, but in a way not easy to define, from all the rest.

The Old Time Journalist will tell you the best reporter is the one who works his way up. He will hold that the only way to start is as a printer’s devil, or as an office boy, to learn in time to set type, to graduate from a compositor into a stenographer, and as a stenographer take down speeches...