Fiction Books

When I started writing this book, I thought of calling it: JERRY TODD AND THE PUZZLE ROOM MYSTERY. But Scoop told me that wasn’t the proper title. “There is more in the book about the talking frog than there is about the puzzle room,” he pointed out. “So why don’t you call it JERRY TODD...

The twenty-fourth had been cold and stormy: a keen, biting wind blowing continuously, during the greater part of the day, bringing with it a heavy fall of sleet and snow.

Tom Dennis sat on a printer's stool beside a very dirty window which dimly illumined his figure, and stared at the gloom surrounding him. His rawboned face was dejected; his angular body slumped despondently. In his hand was a little sheaf of papers.

The old-fashioned Deming mansion, for the hundredth time in its sedate existence, was filled with a gayety which offset even the menacing weather.

The Tzar knows little of the horrors committed in his name. He has never been inside the tenth pavilion in Warsaw Citadel, where starving people have, times without number, been knouted to death. He knows nothing of the dark underground dungeons overrun with vermin in the Peter-Paul Fortress; he...

IN the year 1798 the palace of Holyrood was inhabited by a swarm of French people,—his Royal Highness the Comte d’Artois, who in his youth had danced so deliciously on the tightrope as to be the admiration of the Little Trianon, and in his old age was Charles X. of France; his Savoyard...

The name which the Belgians give to their country is Belgique. The English form Belgium is that from the Latin of ancient days. The country is inhabited by two races. Draw a line across the map of Belgium and you divide the kingdom into two regions, inhabited by Flemings and Walloons. Let the line...

Old man Whittaker owns the Cross J, Hank Padden the Seven A, and Scenery Sims is the possessor of the Circle S outfit and the squeakiest voice ever anchored in the throat of a human being. Every time I hears Scenery start to talk I pray for cylinder oil or chloroform. Me? I’m Henry Clay Peck. I...

This natural tendency to hope, desire, foresee and then, if possible, obtain, has been largely diverted from human usefulness since our goal was placed after death, in Heaven. With all our hope in "Another World," we have largely lost hope of this one.

The agitated transit of Mr. Lewis Copewell through the anteroom of the Honorable Alexander Hamilton Burrow created a certain stir. With all the lawless magnificence of a comet that runs amuck through the heavens, he burst upon the somewhat promiscuous assemblage already seated there.