Some American Tales : Arthur's Classic Novels

Some American Tales

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The Virginian A Horseman Of The Plains by Owen Wister
Some notable sight was drawing the passengers, both men and women, to the window; and therefore I rose and crossed the car to see what it was. I saw near the track an enclosure, and round it some laughing men, and inside it some whirling dust, and amid the dust some horses, plunging, huddling, and dodging.

Padre Ignacio by Owen Wister
At Santa Ysabel del Mar the season was at one of those moments when the air rests quiet over land and sea. The old breezes were gone; the new ones were not yet risen. The flowers in the mission garden opened wide; no wind came by day or night to shake the loose petals from their stems.

A Story of Harvard University by Owen Wister
Two frowning boys sat in their tennis flannels beneath the glare of lamp and gas. Their leather belts were loosened, their soft pink shirts unbuttoned at the collar. They were listening with gloomy voracity to the instruction of a third. They sat at a table bared of its customary sporting ornaments

Mother by Owen Wister
When handsome young Richard Field -- announced to our assembled company that if his turn should really come to tell us a story, the story should be no invention of his fancy, but a page of truth, a chapter from his own life

Lin McLean by Owen Wister
"Only if we try to make that canyon, I guess you'll be late settin' the colonel's table," Lin remarked, his hazel eyes smiling upon her. "That is, if your horse ain't good for twenty miles an hour. Mine ain't, I know. But I'll do my best to stay with yu'."

Lady Baltimore by Owen Wister
Like Adam, our first conspicuous ancestor, I must begin, and lay the blame upon a woman; I am glad to recognize that I differ from the father of my sex in no important particular, being as manlike as most of his sons. Therefore it is the woman, my Aunt Carola, who must bear the whole reproach of the folly which I shall forthwith confess to you, since she it was who put it into my head; and, as it was only to make Eve happy that her husband ever consented to eat the disastrous apple

The Jimmyjohn Boss and Other Stories by Owen Wister
One day at Nampa, which is in Idaho, a ruddy old massive jovial man stood by the Silver City stage, patting his beard with his left hand, and with his right the shoulder of a boy who stood beside him. He had come with the boy on the branch train from Boise, because he was a careful German and liked to say everything twice--twice at least when it was a matter of business.

A Straight Deal or The Ancient Grudge by Owen Wister
During May, 1918, I thought we made a mistake to hate England. I said so at the earliest opportunity. Again came the yeas and nays. You shall see some of these. They are of help. Time has not settled this question. It is as alive as ever--more alive than ever. What if the Armistice was premature? What if Germany absorb Russia and join Japan? What if the League of Nations break like a toy?

Miss Bishop by Bess Streeter Aldrich
In 1846 the prairie town of Oak River existed only in a settler's dream. In 1856 the dream became an incorporated reality. Ten years later a rambling village with a long muddy Main Street and a thousand souls welcomed back its Civil War boys.

A Lantern in her Hand by Bess Streeter Aldrich

Mother Mason by Bess Streeter Aldrich

Spring Came on Forever by Bess Streeter Aldrich

A White Bird Flying by Bess Streeter Aldrich

The Master Of Silence by Irving Bacheller
As I heard no answer, I repeated my inquiry and stood a moment listening. I could hear nothing, however, but the wind and rain. Lighting a candle and dressing myself with all haste, I opened the door. I could just discern the figure of a bent old man standing in the hallway

The Light in the Clearing by Irving Bacheller
Once upon a time I owned a watermelon. I say once because I never did it again. When I got through owning that melon I never wanted another. The time was 1831

Vanished Arizona by Martha Summerhayes
I came to know, as their guest, the best of old military society. They were very old-fashioned and precise, and Frau Generalin often told me that American girls were too ausgelassen in their manners.

D'Ri and I by Irving Bacheller
There were six more days of travel in that journey -- travel so fraught with hardships, I wonder that some days we had the heart to press on. More than all, I wonder that the frail body of my mother was equal to it.

Darrel of the Blessed Isles by Irving Bacheller
Down by the shore of the pond, there, Allen built his house. To-day, under thickets of tansy, one may see the rotting logs, and there are hollyhocks and catnip in the old garden.

Diane of the Green Van by Leona Dalrymple
There was an aeroplane upon the water and in the aeroplane a tall young man with considerable length of sinewy limb, lazily rolling a cigarette. Diane unconsciously approved the clear bronze of his lean, burned face and his eyes, blue, steady, calm as the waters of the lake he rode

Uncle Noah's Christmas Inspiration by Leona Dalrymple
A quiet melancholy hovered about the old house as if it brooded over a host of bygone Yuletides alive with the shouts of merry negroes and the jingle of visiting sleighs

Kenny by Leona Dalrymple
"This time, Kenny, I mean to stay disinherited." Kennicott O'Neill stared at his son and gasped. The note of permanency in the chronic rite of disinheritance was startling.

Eben Holden by Irving Bacheller
A small boy in a big basket on the back of a jolly old man, who carried a cane in one hand, a rifle in the other; a black dog serving as scout, skirmisher and rear guard

Unleavened Bread by Robert Grant
Their songs and laughter floated back along the winding country road. Selma, comfortable in her wraps and well tucked about with a rug, leaned back contentedly in the chaise, after the goodbyes had been said, to enjoy the glamour of the full moon.

The Law-Breakers and Other Stories by Robert Grant
It was to a woman that George was unbosoming his distress on this particular occasion, and, as has been already indicated, his indignation and disgust were entirely justified. Her name was Miss Mary Wellington, and she was the girl whom he wished with all his heart to marry.

The Reign Of Law by James Lane Allen
The century just past had not begun the race of its many-footed years when a neighborhood of Kentucky pioneers, settled throughout the green valleys of the silvery Elkhorn

The Mettle of the Pasture by James Lane Allen
They aroused her, these vanishing beams of the day, these arriving breezes of the night; they became secret invitations to escape from the house into the privacy of the garden, where she could be alone with thoughts of her great happiness now fast approaching.

The Choir Invisible by James Lane Allen

Aftermath: Part Second Of A Kentucky Cardinal by James Lane Allen
I do not always reply to Georgiana, though I always could if I chose. Whenever I remain silent about anything she changes the subject.

Bride of the Mistletoe by James Lane Allen
The great Shield is raised high out of the earth at one end and sunk deep into it at the other. It is tilted away from the dawn toward the sunset.

Janice Meredith by Paul Leicester Ford
The effect on the reader and her listener, both of whom were sitting on the floor, was instantaneous. Each started and sat rigidly intent for a moment;

The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him by Paul Leicester Ford
The limit and rapidity of the walk resembled the tramp of a confined animal, exercising its last meal. But when one stands in front of the lion's cage, and sees that restless and tireless stride, one cannot but wonder how much of it is due to the last shin-bone

The Redemption of David Corson by Paul Leicester Ford
Such an Eden existed in the extreme western part of Ohio in the spring of eighteen hundred and forty-nine. It was a valley surrounded by wooded hills and threaded by a noisy brook which hastily made its way, as if upon some errand of immense importance

The True George Washington by Paul Leicester Ford
In every country boasting a history there may be observed a tendency to make its leaders or great men superhuman. Whether we turn to the legends of the East, the folk-lore of Europe

Audrey by Mary Johnston
The valley lay like a ribbon thrown into the midst of the encompassing hills. The grass which grew there was soft and fine and abundant; the trees which sprang from its dark, rich mould were tall and great of girth.

Sir Mortimer by Mary Johnston
and he held it high. "I drink to those who follow after!" he cried. "I drink to those who fail--pebbles cast into water whose ring still wideneth, reacheth God knows what unguessable shore where loss may yet be counted gain!

1492 by Mary Johnston
Oh, gray the sea and gray the shore!

Lewis Rand by Mary Johnston
The boy dipped the pail, lifted it brimming, and rose from his knees. As he did so, a man parted the bushes on the far side of the stream, glanced at the mossed and slippery stones rising from its bed,

Pioneers Of The Old South by Mary Johnston
In this year Captain George Weymouth sailed across the sea and spent a summer month in North Virginia--later, New England. Weymouth had powerful backers, and with him sailed old adventurers who had been with Raleigh.

To Have and To Hold by Mary Johnston
I thought of the terms we now kept with these heathen; of how they came and went familiarly amongst us, spying out our weakness, and losing the salutary awe which that noblest captain had struck into their souls; of how many were employed as hunters to bring down deer for lazy masters

The Redemption Of David Corson by Charles Frederic Goss
Such an Eden existed in the extreme western part of Ohio in the spring of eighteen hundred and forty-nine. It was a valley surrounded by wooded hills and threaded by a noisy brook which hastily made its way

Yolanda: Maid of Burgandy by Charles Major
Like the Israelites of old, mankind is prone to worship false gods, and persistently sets up the brazen image of a sham hero, as its idol. I should like to write the history of the world, if for no other reason than to assist several well-established heroes down from their pedestals.

The Touchstone of Fortune by Charles Major
If her Ladyship frowns and he loses, his friends call him a fool; if he wins, they say he is a lucky devil and are pleased to share his prosperity if he happens to be of a giving disposition.

Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall by Charles Major
Ah! what a gay, delightful life, tinctured with bitterness, we led in the grand old chateau, and looking back at it how heartless, godless, and empty it seems.

Twelve Men by Theodore Dreiser
He was liberal, material, sensual and yet spiritual; and although he never had more than a little money, out of the richness and fullness of his own temperament he seemed able to generate a kind of atmosphere and texture in his daily life which was rich and warm, splendid really in thought (the true reality) if not in fact, and most grateful to all.

The Titan by Theodore Dreiser
When Frank Algernon Cowperwood emerged from the Eastern District Penitentiary in Philadelphia he realized that the old life he had lived in that city since boyhood was ended. His youth was gone, and with it had been lost the great business prospects of his earlier manhood. He must begin again.

Jennie Gerhardt by Theodore Dreiser
One morning, in the fall of 1880, a middle-aged woman, accompanied by a young girl of eighteen, presented herself at the clerk's desk of the principal hotel in Columbus, Ohio, and made inquiry as to whether there was anything about the place that she could do. She was of a helpless, fleshy build, with a frank, open countenance and an innocent, diffident manner.

Ida Hauchawout by Theodore Dreiser
When I think of her and the dreary, commonplace, brown farm-house, in a doorway of which I first saw her framed, and later of the wee, but cleanly, cabin in which I saw her lying at rest, I think of smooth green hills that rise in noble billows, of valleys so wide and deep that they could hold a thousand cottage farms, of trees that were globe-like from being left unharried by the winds, of cattle red and black and white and black, great herds dotting the hills

The Financier by Theodore Dreiser
The Philadelphia into which Frank Algernon Cowperwood was born was a city of two hundred and fifty thousand and more. It was set with handsome parks, notable buildings, and crowded with historic memories.

Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser
She was eighteen years of age, bright, timid, and full of the illusions of ignorance and youth. Whatever touch of regret at parting characterised her thoughts, it was certainly not for advantages now being given up. A gush of tears at her mother's farewell kiss, a touch in her throat when the cars clacked by the flour mill where her father worked by the day, a pathetic sigh as the familiar green environs of the village passed in review, and the threads which bound her so lightly to girlhood and home were irretrievably broken.

Alice of Old Vincennes by Maurice Thompson
Up to the days of Indiana's early statehood, probably as late as 1825, there stood, in what is now the beautiful little city of Vincennes on the Wabash, the decaying remnant of an old and curiously gnarled cherry tree

Helmet of Navarre by Bertha Runkle
In that bloody time, when the King of Navarre and the two Leagues were tearing our poor France asunder, M. le Duc found himself between the devil and the deep sea. He was no friend to the League; for years he had stood between the king, his master

The Goose Girl by Harold MacGrath
An old man, clothed in picturesque patches and tatters, paused and leaned on his stout oak staff. He was tired. He drew off his rusty felt hat, swept a sleeve across his forehead, and sighed.

Half A Rogue by Harold MacGrath
It was Warrington's invariable habit -- when no business or social engagement pressed him to go elsewhere -- to drop into a certain quaint little restaurant just off Broadway for his dinners.

The Drums Of Jeopardy by Harold MacGrath
A fast train drew into Albany, on the New York Central, from the West. It was three-thirty of a chill March morning in the first year of peace. A pall of fog lay over the world so heavy that it beaded the face and hands and deposited a fairy diamond dust upon wool.

The Man on the Box by Harold MacGrath
If you will carefully observe any map of the world that is divided into inches at so many miles to the inch, you will be surprised as you calculate the distance between that enchanting Paris of France and the third-precinct police-station of Washington, D. C, which is not enchanting.

The Puppet Crown by Harold MacGrath
The king, from where he sat, could see the ivy-clad towers of the archbishop's palace, where, in and about the narrow windows, gray and white doves fluttered and plumed themselves.

The Purchase Price by Emerson Hough
"Madam, you are charming! You have not slept, and yet you smile. No man could ask a better prisoner."

The Passing Of The Frontier by Emerson Hough
What is, or was, the frontier? Where was it? Under what stars did it lie? Because, as the vague Iliads of ancient heroes or the nebulous records of the savage gentlemen of the Middle Ages

The Law of the Land by Emerson Hough
it must have moved you to applause, had you seen Miss Lady dance! You might have been restrained by the feeling that this was almost too unreal, too unusual, this dance of the young girl

The Gold Brick and the Gold Mine by Emerson Hough
But there is to be said about gold mining ways of the old time, that Tyre sought gold with actual ships, with actual men and mining implements. The peninsula of Sinai did not sell stock, but mined actual gold. Gold in those days meant actual risk and courage.

The Covered Wagon by Emerson Hough
Jesse Wingate allowed his team of harness-marked horses to continue their eager drinking at the watering hole of the little stream near which the camp was pitched until, their thirst quenched, they began burying their muzzles and blowing into the water

Heart's Desire by Emerson Hough
"It looks a long ways acrost from here to the States," said Curly, as we pulled up our horses at the top of the Capitan divide. We gazed out over a vast, rolling sea of red-brown earth which stretched far beyond and below the nearer foothills

The Girl at the Halfway House by Emerson Hough
Forty black horses, keeping step; forty trumpeters, keeping unison; this procession, headed by a mere musician, who none the less was a poet, a great man, crossed the field of Louisburg as it lay dotted with the heaps of slain

The Mississippi Bubble by Emerson Hough
One after another this company of young Englishmen, hard players, hard drinkers, gathered about the table and bent over to examine the little shoe. It was an Indian moccasin, cut after the fashion of the Abenakis

54-40 or Fight by Emerson Hough
"Then you offer me no hope, Doctor?" The gray mane of Doctor Samuel Ward waved like a fighting crest as he made answer:
"Not the sort of hope you ask."

Mrs. Wiggs Of The Cabbage Patch by Alice Caldwell Hegan (Rice)
Mrs. Wiggs made the statement as cheerfully as if her elbows were not sticking out through the boy's coat that she wore, or her teeth chattering in her head like a pair of castanets.

Sandy by Alice Caldwell Hegan (Rice)
An English mist was rolling lazily inland from the sea. It half enveloped the two great ocean liners that lay tugging at their moorings in the bay, and settled over the wharf with a grim determination to check, as far as possible, the traffic of the morning.

Lovey Mary by Alice Caldwell Hegan (Rice)
Everything about Lovey Mary was a contradiction, from her hands and feet, which seemed to have been meant for a big girl, to her high ideals and aspirations, that ought to have belonged to an amiable one.

A Romance of Billy-Goat Hill by Alice Caldwell Hegan (Rice)
It was springtime in Kentucky, gay, irresponsible, Southern springtime, that comes bursting impetuously through highways and byways, heedless of possible frosts and impossible fruitions.

Vandover and the Brute by Frank Norris
It was in the depot of one of the larger towns in western New York. The day had been hot and after the long ride on the crowded day coach the cool shadow under the curved roof of the immense iron vaulted depot seemed very pleasant.

The Pit by Frank Norris
A great, slow-moving press of men and women in evening dress filled the vestibule from one wall to another. A confused murmur of talk and the shuffling of many feet arose on all sides, while from time to time, when the outside and inside doors of the entrance chanced to be open simultaneously

The Octopus by Frank Norris
Just after passing Caraher's saloon, on the County Road that ran south from Bonneville, and that divided the Broderson ranch from that of Los Muertos, Presley was suddenly aware of the faint and prolonged blowing of a steam whistle

Moran Of The Lady Letty by Frank Norris
This is to be a story of a battle, at least one murder, and several sudden deaths. For that reason it begins with a pink tea and among the mingled odors of many delicate perfumes and the hale, frank smell of Caroline Testout roses.

McTeague by Frank Norris
It was Sunday, and, according to his custom on that day, McTeague took his dinner at two in the afternoon at the car conductors' coffee-joint on Polk Street.

Blix by Frank Norris
From its window one could command a sweep of San Francisco Bay and the Contra Costa shore, from Mount Diablo, along past Oakland, Berkeley, Sausalito, and Mount Tamalpais, out to the Golden Gate, the Presidio, the ocean, and even -- on very clear days

A Deal In Wheat by Frank Norris
his wife came out from the kitchen door of the house and drew near, and stood for some time at the horse's head, her arms folded and her apron rolled around them. For a long moment neither spoke.

Michael O'Halloran by Gene Stratton-Porter
Jimmy turned to step from the gutter to the sidewalk. Two things happened to him simultaneously: Mickey became a projectile. He smashed with the force of a wiry fist on the larger boy's head, while above both, an athletic arm gripped him by the collar.

The Harvester by Gene Stratton-Porter
The Harvester sat in the hollow worn in the hewed log stoop by the feet of his father and mother and his own sturdier tread, and rested his head against the casing of the cabin door when he gave the command.

The Song of the Cardinal by Gene Stratton-Porter
The swamp resembles a big dining-table for the birds. Wild grape-vines clamber to the tops of the highest trees, spreading umbrella-wise over the branches

Moths of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton-Porter
It was a piece of forethought to work unceasingly at that time, for soon commerce attacked the swamp and began its usual process of devastation.

A Girl Of The Limberlost by Gene Stratton-Porter
Elnora gave one despairing glance at the white face, framed in a most becoming riot of reddish-brown hair, which she saw in the little kitchen mirror.

Laddie by Gene Stratton-Porter
Secrets with Laddie were the greatest joy in life. He was so big and so handsome. He was so much nicer than any one else in our family

Her Father's Daughter by Gene Stratton-Porter
An angry red rushed to the boy's face. It was an irritating fact that in the senior class of that particular Los Angeles high school a Japanese boy stood at the head. This was embarrassing to every senior.

Freckles by Gene Stratton-Porter
The thickness of the swamp made a dark, massive background below, while above towered gigantic trees. The men were calling jovially back and forth as they unharnessed tired horses

At the Foot of the Rainbow by Gene Stratton-Porter
"Near the time of my mother's passing we moved from Hopewell to the city of Wabash in order that she might have constant medical attention, and the younger children better opportunities for schooling.

A Daughter Of The Land by Gene Stratton-Porter
She was so intent upon the words she had heard that her feet unconsciously followed a well-defined branch from the main path leading into the woods, from the bridge, where she sat on a log

Their Yesterdays by Harold Bell Wright
there was now another grave --another grave so new that on it no blade of grass had started--so new that the yellow earth in the long rounded mound was still moist and the flowers that tried with such loving, tender, courage

Helen of the Old House by Harold Bell Wright
The philosopher who keeps the cigar stand on the corner of Congress Street and Ward Avenue explained it very clearly when he answered an inquiring stranger, "You just can't think Millsburgh without thinkin' mills; an' you can't think mills without thinkin' the Mill."

The Calling Of Dan Matthews by Harold Bell Wright
This story began in the Ozark Mountains. It follows the trail that is nobody knows how old. But mostly this story happened in Corinth, a town of the middle class in a Middle Western state.

The Long Ago by Harold Bell Wright
The day is done, and yet we linger here at the window of the private office, alone, in the early evening. Street sounds come surging up to us - the hoarse Voice of the City - a confused blur of noise - clanging trolley-cars, rumbling wagons, and familiar cries

That Printer of Udell's by Harold Bell Wright
"Sh--, he's full ergin. Bin down ter th' stillhouse all evenin'--Don't stir him, maw, er we'll git licked some more. Tell me what ye want."

The Shepherd of the Hills by Harold Bell Wright
By his dress, the man was from the world beyond the ridges, and his carefully tailored clothing looked strangely out of place in the mountain wilderness.

When A Man's A Man by Harold Bell Wright
The day was still young when the stranger gained the top of the first hill where the road turns to make its steep and winding way down through scattered pines and scrub oak to the Burnt Ranch.

The Eyes of the World by Harold Bell Wright
The sunken eyes opened. As a burst of sunlight through the suddenly opened doors of a sepulchre, the death-gray face was illumed.

The Re-Creation of Brian Kent by Harold Bell Wright
She was standing in the door of her little schoolhouse, the ruins of which you may still see, halfway up the long hill from the log house by the river, where the most of this story was lived.

The Winning of Barbara Worth by Harold Bell Wright
Jefferson Worth's outfit of four mules and a big wagon pulled out of San Felipe at daybreak, headed for Rubio City.

Captivating Mary Carstairs by Henry Sydnor Harrison
The big man, Maginnis himself, sat on at the piano, his great fingers rambling deftly over the keys. He was playing Brahms now and doing it magnificently.

Queed by Henry Sydnor Harrison
"Everything's topsy-turvy," said he, coming alongside. "Here you are frivolously walking downtown with a dog. Usually at this time you are most earnestly walking uptown, and not a sign of a dog as far as the eye can see. What on earth's happened?"

V. V.'s Eyes by Henry Sydnor Harrison
"And that isn't the worst of it," shot the doctor again, flinging out an arm. "It's only a detail, I say, this factory end of it; only a symptom, don't you see?

Paradise Ridge by Maria Thompson Daviess
"It just breaks my heart to see you away from everything and everybody, all burned up and scratched up and muddy, and—and—" I was saying as he lifted me back into the road again

The Melting of Molly by Maria Thompson Daviess
Yes, I truly think that in all the world there is nothing so dead as a young widow's deceased husband, and God ought to give His wisest man-angel special charge concerning looking after her and the devil at the same time.

Rose Of Old Harpeth by Maria Thompson Daviess
"Uncle Tucker captured you roaming loose out in his fields and he trusts you to me while he is at work and I must keep you safe.

Phyllis by Maria Thompson Daviess
The worst thing about it to me is that this house I live in and the town I live in are named for the lovely dark-eyed girl who lives down in the old-fashioned cottage that backs up on our garden.

The Tinder-Box by Maria Thompson Daviess
"A woman is the spark that lights the flame on the altar of the inner man, dear, and you'll have to sparkle when your time comes," he warned me

The Daredevil by Maria Thompson Daviess
he had given his life for her and France in the trenches of the Vosges. And thus at his bidding I was on the very high seas of adventure.

The Elected Mother by Maria Thompson Daviess
and I'm afraid it will go kinder hard with him, but he will have to be led easy and blind-like to the fact that woman's day has dawned.

The Road To Providence by Maria Thompson Daviess
"Can't you persuade her some, Tom?" Mother called back from the kitchen door as she peered anxiously across the garden fence and over to the gray barn where the Doctor stood holding the door half open,

Andrew the Glad by Maria Thompson Daviess
"There are some women who will brew mystery from the decoction of even a very simple life. Matilda is one of them

The White Linen Nurse by Eleanor Hallowell Abbott
Incidentally her head ached and her shoulders ached and her lungs ached and the ankle-bones of both feet ached quite excruciatingly. But nothing of her felt permanently incapacitated

Murder in Any Degree by Owen Johnson
"My dear chaps, speaking as a critic," continued De Gollyer, pleasantly aware of the antagonism he had exploded, "you remain children afraid of the dark -- afraid of being alone.

Stover at Yale by Owen Johnson
And yet, he felt no lack of preparation. Looking back, he could honestly say to himself that where a year ago he had seen darkly now all was clear.

The Devil's Garden by W. B. Maxwell
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

Dere Mable: Love Letters of a Rookie by Edward Streeter
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.

Mary Wollaston by Henry Kitchell Webster
Miss Lucile Wollaston was set to exude sympathy, like an aphid waiting for an overworked ant to come down to breakfast. But there was no sympathizing with the man who came in from a doctor's all-night vigil like a boy from a ball-game

The Real Adventure by Henry Kitchell Webster
the strange and yet inevitable fact that the softest, most sentimental, rose-scented religion ever invented, should have produced, through its most thoroughly infatuated disciple, the ghastliest reign of terror that ever shocked the world;

Little Eve Edgarton by by Eleanor Hallowell Abbott

Molly Make-Believe by Eleanor Hallowell Abbott

The Indiscreet Letter by Eleanor Hallowell Abbott

The White Linen Nurse by Eleanor Hallowell Abbott

The Day of Days, An Extravaganza by Louis Joseph Vance

The Fortune Hunters by Louis Joseph Vance

Alias The Lone Wolf by Louis Joseph Vance

Red Masquerade by Louis Joseph Vance

The Black Bag by Louis Joseph Vance

The False Faces by Louis Joseph Vance

The Bronze Bell by Louis Joseph Vance

The Brass Bowl by Louis Joseph Vance

Thorne Smith is the creator of the Topper series.

The Jovial Ghosts: The Misadventures of Topper by Thorne Smith

The Glorious Pool by Thorne Smith

Skin and Bones by Thorne Smith

Rain In The Doorway by Thorne Smith

The Bishop's Jaegers by Thorne Smith

Topper Takes A Trip by Thorne Smith

The Night Life of the Gods by Thorne Smith

Turnabout by Thorne Smith

The Stray Lamb by Thorne Smith

For Visually Impaired see

Complete Sci-Fi
Complete Wild West Novels
Complete Horror Novels
Complete Detective Novels
Complete Children's and Fairy Tales
Complete Mystery Stories
Complete Religion
Complete British Writers
Complete Russian Writers
Complete Canadian Writers and Stories
Complete Philosophy
Complete Twentieth Century

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