HardPress Classic Books Series

Stanley Weyman was a celebrated English novelist, most famous for his classic historical romances.

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Stories of American HistoryIt was a small but by no means feeble-looking boy who stood in front of a driveway disclosed by the opening of huge gates which, until they had been swung inward, appeared to have been a portion of the high fence of boards.There was seemingly no inducement for a boy to linger in this vicinity, unless, indeed, it might have been the sign posted either side the gate, on which was painted in letters rendered conspicuous because of the vivid colouring, the forbidding words, "Keep Out.""I'll not keep out 'less I'm minded to, an' him as can hold me this side the fence needs to be spry on his feet," the small boy said, half to himself, and with a gesture of defiance which told he had not been accustomed to obeying commands that might be evaded.Through the gateway nothing could be seen save enormous heaps of coal, some enclosed in pens formed of planks as if to prevent them from mingling with the others, and between all a path or road of no more than sufficient width to permit the passage of a cart. In the distance, a rough building abruptly closed the view, and beyond it the puffing of steam and rattle of iron implements told of life and activity.Outside the fence, it was as if this certain portion of the city had been temporarily deserted; but one could hear the rumble of wheels over the pavements on either hand, giving token that the coalyard was situated just beyond the line of city traffic.The boy gazed into the uninviting-looking place as if fascinated, only glancing up now and then at the signs which mutely forbade his entrance, and, as if unconscious of his movements, stole slowly nearer and nearer the gateway until he stood directly on the line that separated the yard from the sidewalk."If I wanted to go in, it's more'n a couple of signs that could keep me out," he muttered, threateningly, and then, with one backward glance to assure himself that no unfriendly policeman was watching from the distance, the boy darted forward, taking refuge behind the nearest heap of coal, lest an enemy should be lurking near at hand.Save for the hum of labour everywhere around, he heard nothing. No guardian of the smutty premises appeared to forbid his entrance, and after waiting a full minute to make certain it was safe to advance yet farther, he left one place of partial concealment for the next in his proposed line of march.So far as he could see, there was no other guardian of the yard save the two signs at the entrance, and the only purpose they served was to challenge him.CONTENTS"KEEP OUT"KEEP INOFF SANTIAGOTHE MERRIMACTHE CHASETEDDY'S DADDY

CHAPTER I ANTICIPATIONS Three girls were strolling down the street, and, as on the occasion when the three fishermen once sailed out to sea, the sun was going down. The golden rays, slanting in from over the western hills that stood back of the little town of Deepdale, struck full in the faces of the maids as they turned a corner, and so bright was the glare that one of them—a tall, willowy lass, with a wealth of fluffy, light hair, turned aside with a cry of annoyance. "Oh, why can't the sun be nice!" she exclaimed, half-petulantly. "What do you want it to do, Grace?" asked a vivacious, dark-complexioned sprite next to the complaining one. "Go under a cloud just to suit you?" "No, my dear, I'm not as fussy as that!" "Indeed not!" chimed in the third member of the trio, a quiet girl, with thoughtful eyes. "What Grace wants is some nice young fellow to come along with an umbrella, hoist it over her, and invite her in to have—a chocolate soda!" "Why, Amy Blackford! I'll never speak to you again!" gasped the accused one, blushing vividly, the more so as the rays of the setting sun fell upon her face. "All I said was——" "Look!" suddenly interrupted the vivacious member of the small party—a party that attracted no little attention, for at the sight of the three pretty girls, strolling arm in arm down the main thoroughfare of the town, more than one person turned for a second look. "Gracious! What is it?" demanded Grace. "Did you see—some one, Billy?" "No—something," came the answer from the dark girl with the boyish name, and at a glance you could understand why she was called so. There was such a wholesome, frank and comrade-like quality about her, though she was not at all masculine, that "Billy" just suited. "Look," she went on. "Isn't that a perfectly gorgeous display of chocolates!" and she indicated the window of a confectionery store just in front of them. "Oh, I must have some of those!" cried Grace Ford. "Come on in, girls! I'll treat. They're those new bitter-sweet chocolates. I didn't know Borker kept them. I'm simply dying for some!" and with this rather exaggerated statement she fairly pulled her two chums after her into the store. "Look!" Grace went on, pausing a moment when inside the shop to glance at the chocolate display in the show-window. "Did you ever see anything so—so appetizing?" "It looks like a display at a picnic candy kitchen," murmured she who had been called Billy. "Why, Mollie Billette!" reproached Grace Ford. "I think it's perfectly splendid." "But not appetizing," declared Amy Blackford. "I don't see how you can think of eating any, when it's so near dinner time, Grace." "We don't have dinner until seven, and it's only five. Besides, I'm not going to eat many—now." "No, she'll take a box home, and keep them in bed, under her pillow—I know her," put in Mollie, alias Billy. "I slept with her one night and I wondered whether she had lumps of coal, or some kitchen kindling wood between the sheets. But it wasn't—it was chocolates!...

CHAPTER I.INTRODUCES MRS. JAMES PREEDY; HINTS AT THE TROUBLE INTO WHICH SHE HAS FALLEN; AND GIVES AN INSIGHT INTO HER SOCIAL POSITION.Mrs. James Preedy, lodging-house keeper, bred and born in the vocation, and consequently familiar with all the moves of that extensive class of persons in London that has no regular home, and has to be cooked for, washed for, and generally done for, sat in the kitchen of her house, No. 118, Great Porter Square. This apartment was situated in the basement, and here Mrs. Preedy received her friends and “did” for her lodgers, in so far as the cooking for them can be said to be included in that portentous and significant term. The floor of the kitchen was oil-clothed, with, in distinguished places, strips of carpet of various patterns and colours, to give it an air. Over the mantelpiece was a square looking-glass in a mahogany frame, ranged on each side of which were faded photographs of men, women, and children, and of one gentleman in particular pretending to smoke a long pipe. This individual, whose face was square, whose aspect was frowning, and whose shirt sleeves were tucked up in an exceedingly free and easy fashion, was the pictorial embodiment of Mrs. Preedy’s deceased husband. While he lived he was “a worryer, my dear,” to quote Mrs. Preedy—and to do the lady justice, he looked it; but being gone to that bourne from which no lodging-house keeper ever returns, he immediately took his place in the affections of his widow as “the dear departed” and a “blessed angel.” Thus do we often find tender appreciation budding into flower even at the moment the undertaker nails the lid upon the coffin, and Mr. Preedy, when the breath was out of his body, might (spiritually) have consoled himself with the reflection that he was not the only person from whose grave hitherto unknown or unrecognised virtues ascend. The weapons of the dead warrior, two long and two short pipes, were ranged crosswise on the wall with mathematical tenderness. When her day’s work was over, and Mrs. Preedy, a lonely widow, sat by herself in the kitchen, she was wont to look regretfully at those pipes, wishing that he who had smoked them were alive to puff again as of yore; forgetting, in the charity of her heart, the crosses and vexations of her married life, and how often she had called her “blessed angel” a something I decline to mention for defiling the kitchen with his filthy smoke.CONTENTS1. Introduces Mrs. James Preedy; hints at the trouble into which she has fallen; and gives an insight into her social position2. What was printed on the quarto bill: a proclamation by her Majesty’s Government3. Extracted from the “Evening Moon”4. The examination of Mrs. Preedy, continued from the “Evening Moon”5. Contains further extracts from the “Evening Moon” relating to the Great Porter Square mystery6. The “Evening Moon” speaks its mind7. In which the “Evening Moon” continues to speak its mind8. The “Evening Moon” postpones its statement respecting Antony Cowlrick9. In which the “Evening Moon” relates the adventures of its Special Correspondent10. The Special Reporter of the “Evening Moon” makes the acquaintance of a little match girl11. The “Evening Moon” for a time takes leave of the case of Antony Cowlrick12. Mrs. Preedy has dreadful dreams13. Mrs. Preedy’s young man lodger14. In which Becky commences a letter to a friend in the country15. In which Becky continues her letter, and relates how she obtained the situation at No. 11816. In which Becky writes a second letter to her friend in the country, and gives a woman’s reason for not liking Richard Manx17. In which Becky, continuing her letter, relates her impressions of Mrs. Preedy’s young man lodger18. The “Evening Moon” reopens the subject of the Great Porter Square murder, and relates a romantic story concerning the murdered man and his widow19. The “Evening Moon” continues its account of the tragedy, and describes the shameful part enacted by Mr. F

Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.

• Two of British writer Herbert George Jenkins best-selling books are bound together in this Kindle edition: Malcolm Sage, Detective & the detective novel Some Chapters in the Life of Joseph BindleMalcolm Sage, Detective (1921)Malcolm Sage was an intelligence agent for "Division Z" during World War War before setting up the Malcolm Sage Detective Bureau. This book of short stories details the start-up years cases featuring Sage his assistants James Thompson and Gladys Norman. Sherlock Holmes fans may find this book amusing as it was written in the same period as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's detective novels.Some Chapters in the Life of Joseph Bindle (1916)Is Bindle the most famous and beloved Cockney since Dickens wrote Pickwick Papers." This is the first in Jenkins's series featuring Joseph Bindle.About The AuthorBritish writer Herbert George Jenkins (1876 – 1923) owned run publishers Herbert Jenkins Ltd., which distributed P. G. Wodehouse's novels.

He was Ramses the Damned in ancient Egypt, but awoke in opulent Edwardian London as Dr. Ramsey, expert in Egyptology. He mixes with the aristocrats and samples their voluptuous lifestyle, but it is for his beloved, Cleopatra, that he longs, and will do anything to be with.... *From the Trade Paperback edition.*

When Laedron Telpist's sorcery training is interrupted by a knock on the door, what once seemed a proper profession must now be hidden. In a world where priests and mages vie for the limitless power of the elements and a new Grand Vicar has sworn death to all sorcerers, Laedron is tossed into a nightmare which would see his destruction at every turn.When Laedron Telpist's sorcery training is interrupted by a knock on the door, what once seemed a proper profession must now be hidden. In a world where priests and mages vie for the limitless power of the elements and a new Grand Vicar has sworn death to all sorcerers, Laedron is tossed into a nightmare which would see his destruction at every turn.From the home shores in western Sorbia, through the Cael'Brilland heartlands, and even across the seas to the great city of Azura, Laedron finds himself embracing old friends, consorting with unlikely allies, and confronting potent enemies. As he struggles to train himself in spellcraft, Laedron must face that he lives in a time when the utterance of a simple spell could be the signature on his death warrant.

Mark Setzer thought studying for his Bar Mitzvah and having his best friend move away created enough aggravation in his life. But then his mother becomes the new manager of his Little League team and drags his older brother, Spencer, along as coach. Miraculously, the team thrives, but in the process Mark learns some unpleasant truths about someone he thought he knew.

America's bestselling author transports readers to magical Seville, Spain, at Easter time, a season of splendid pageantry, exciting bullfights, deep piety--and miracles. An American journalist, sent to Seville on assignment to cover the efforts of a rancher to revive his once proud line of bulls--uncovers a story that shakes his newspaperman's hard-bitten pragmatism. 26 illustrations.

First time in paperback-the saga of Mrs. Mike continues in the story of her granddaughter. From her Cree mother, Kathy Little Bird has heard stories of her grandmother, Mrs. Mike. She has also learned to sing in the Cree tradition. It is a talent that will serve her well-and soothe her shattered soul-when she becomes a famous country music singer in the 1970s.

Strawberries.Delicious, tasty, juicy strawberries.What could possibly go wrong...?This short story anthology is comprised of eight suspenseful and horrifying tales, composed for a special one-week fiction event on the blog, "The Leaky Pencil". These stories centre around the theme of Madness. Not one of the stories approaches this theme in the same way, and each has something unique to say.Features eight outstanding new tales by: Laurita Miller, Richard Godwin, Angel Zapata, Benjamin Sobieck, Sean Patrick Reardon, Erin Cole, Lily Childs, and Chris Allinotte.

Warning: experimental translation (hybrid) 1937, Sardinia, mines of Montevecchio. The accidental death of the small Giuseppino marks the beginning of an unstoppable fall for a whole country. In a segment of reality that moves, that tears to pieces, so many characters fill the life of the village. Emilio, destroyed by the remorse for the death of Giuseppino...Warning: experimental translation (hybrid) 1937, Sardinia, mines of Montevecchio. The accidental death of the small Giuseppino marks the beginning of an unstoppable fall for a whole country. In a segment of reality that moves, that tears to pieces, so many characters fill the life of the village. Emilio, destroyed by the remorse for the death of Giuseppino. Pietro, upset by the epilepsy of his daughter. Geneva, fought among two loves and threatened by a terrible danger. Lucio, the deformed deaf and dumb that all fear. The powerful family Minghetti, the alone one to be able to decide in every moment the fate of the wells of extraction. Between foreshortenings of stupendous territories and archaic popular traditions, ropes of pain and punishment they tighten epic characters. An interlacement of love and hate, able to push the man toward an introspective trip from which it is difficult not to return changed. A choral novel, a thin and musical Italian Dubliners, whose last note, to end volume, plays again in an accord between the cruelty of the life and the possibility of ransom.

The 5th book in the Tunnels series. The Styx have surfaced. The only ones to stand in their way is Will and his friends, and a rag-tag team of retired commandos.

The latest creature to emerge from Rob's closet is a cross between Chewbacca from Star Wars and Harry Potter. Rob names him "Potterwookiee" ("Hairy" for short) and soon Rob finds himself treading water as he tries to figure out how to care for his mixed-up friend. Great laughs and great books help Rob along the way.

Doctors tell Raj that his son Emret won't survive his illness. As Raj struggles to prepare himself and Emret for the inevitable, he's confronted by Moslin, his son's nurse, who’s been filling Emret’s head with fairytales about heroic quests and powerful disease curing miracles. Emret now thinks that all he has to do is find the mythical Red Tree from the nurse's stories, and he'll live."...a delightfully honest and refreshing tale..." -Amazon Reviewer"...superbly written...full of life and personality..." -Amazon Reviewer"...a gripping fantasy tale that always seems to twist just when you think you know where it's headed." -Amazon Reviewer"A really cool read from an author that I'll be following in the future." -Amazon ReviewerDoctors tell Raj that his son Emret won't survive his illness. As Raj struggles to prepare himself and Emret for the inevitable, he's confronted by Moslin, his son's nurse, who’s been filling Emret’s head with fairytales about heroic quests and powerful disease curing miracles. Emret now thinks that all he has to do is find the mythical Red Tree from the nurse's stories, and he'll live.In an attempt to protect his son from further emotional damage, Raj asks Moslin to stay away from Emret. He returns hours later to find them both missing.He searches the fairytales for clues to where they may have gone and stumbles upon stories that, strangely, he already knows. He saw them in a vision just before his son disappeared.