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Articles 3091 - 3120 of 3359
Full-Text Articles in Fiction
Saturday Night Date, Mary Chappell
Saturday Night Date, Mary Chappell
Manuscripts
She adjusted her hat and stuck in the pin which held it securely to the back of her head. He would arrive any minute now, and, she thought philosophically, whatever else she was, she was punctual. She admired herself in the mirror - a nicely proportioned figure in her little suit, good legs, and dark red hair that hung loosely beneath her black hat. Under her short veil her face was peach-colored and smiling. She whirled about playfully in front of the mirror. No wonder he was proud of her! It amused her to see him try not to smile …
D.M. Greer, Sportsman, Lucy Kaufman
D.M. Greer, Sportsman, Lucy Kaufman
Manuscripts
David McCawley Greer extended a tanned and exquisitely proportioned hand to the gleaming silver cigarette box and withdrew a cigarette with the casual facility for which he was so admired. Then to complete this remarkably adroit gesture he smiled a particularly disarming smile, with only the barest trace of a sneer in it, at Mrs. Celia Haven Morsell, who after countless endeavors had at last succeeded in engaging David in conversation and whom he intensely despised. The fortunate dowager, ecstatic at being so favored by such an enviable and esteemed young man, reciprocated with an expression which might also have …
Yearning, Ione Colligan
Concerning Mr. Mundy, Janet Jarrett
Concerning Mr. Mundy, Janet Jarrett
Manuscripts
Mr. Mundy lived on Seventh street. Seventh street lay between Sixth street and Eighth street which was the only way Mr. Mundy could tell that it was his street. Otherwise the three streets were exactly alike; they had the same houses and the same trees and the same square green lawns. There was no way you could tell them apart except that Seventh street lay between Sixth and Eighth.
To The Margin, Joy Higdon
To The Margin, Joy Higdon
Manuscripts
The castle was a huge gray mass of stone, high on the hill. Once it had been the splendor and austerity of Tintagel, castle of King Arthur. Now, a bleak gray ruin, the splendor and awe-inspiring quality persisted.
The Chord, Joan Fuller
The Chord, Joan Fuller
Manuscripts
The train moved into the reflection of the dawn. Paul opened his eyes and looked out at the grey-black silhouettes of telephone poles stalking by, and the slowly rounding land. For a moment in the dawn, they looked like half-remembered poles and fields moving in a dream. But then he was awake and knew he was awake and California was ahead.
Volume 10, Issue 4: Full Issue
Things I Am Curious To Learn, Marylouise Miles
Things I Am Curious To Learn, Marylouise Miles
Manuscripts
Like every other child I started out with a burning curiosity. At five that unextinguishable fire was a horrible thing. Horrible, that is, to those coming within hearing distance. "Why" was the only word in my vocabulary, and every moment made me more masterful in its use. Why do ants build their houses like that? Why is grass green instead of some other color? Why are you dusting, Mama? Why do I have to wear my coat today? Why? Why? Why? Of course those sentences, are exasperating; so was I.
Just For Fun, Tom Stump
Just For Fun, Tom Stump
Manuscripts
The first book that I remember having read for myself was A. A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh. I read and re-read this book many times, as well as its twin, House at Pooh Corner. Whenever I grew tired of reading one of these books, I would skim through the pages and look at the winsome little pictures of Pooh, or Ear, the donkey, or Kanga, the kangaroo. Although as I grew up I soon considered myself above such juvenile literature, I was amazed not very long to find that I still enjoyed reading about the exploits of Pooh, the amiable …
The Ohio, Joan Hayden
At The Concert, Robert Breedlove
How To Become A Meistro In Two Easy Lessons, Elmer Eisenbarth
How To Become A Meistro In Two Easy Lessons, Elmer Eisenbarth
Manuscripts
Civilization has given the human race many disgusting things, but none of them can even come close to the abhorrent practice of haircutting. Haircuts, as they appear today, constitute one of the greatest setbacks to the advance of man. They make man appear, to an outsider, inferior to the dumb animals. Whoever heard of an animal voluntarily getting a haircut'? The injury that is done by haircuts to the bankroll, time, and comfort of man, is incomprehensible.
Kaleidoscope, Shirley Loy
They Go To Your Head, Mary Johnson
They Go To Your Head, Mary Johnson
Manuscripts
The nearest to perfect happiness a woman ever gets is when she is shopping. Not the ordinary "every-day" kind of shopping for celery, onions, potato chips, salt or white thread (No. 60), but the intriguing, glamorous type of shopping for wearing apparel. This applies to all kinds of clothes; dresses, coats, suits, sweaters, shirts, shoes, purses, and gloves. Hats, however, are another story. They belong in a class by themselves. A woman's true character is often displayed when shopping for a new chapeau.
My Favorite Spot, Sam Stark
My Favorite Spot, Sam Stark
Manuscripts
My favorite spot is in the Marion Railway car shops. This may seem strange to anybody else, but that is what I like. I like to stand in the door-way of the shops and watch the bright orange cars move about the yard. The sound of the wheels rolling over low joints is music to my ears.
A River And An Island, John Stuart
A River And An Island, John Stuart
Manuscripts
An island in a river is a wonderful place. Although there is one in White River not far from Butler, many students have never seen it. This island divides the flow of the river into two parts, the channel being to the right. There are rapids on both sides of the island the current on the left side rushes between large stones. It is possible to get to the island by jumping from stone to stone from the left side only. It is fascinating to watch the changes in life around this island come with the changes of the seasons.
The College Girl's War Effort, Mildred Evans
The Student's Preparation For Peace, Jack Walker
Americana, Doris Daley
Americana, Doris Daley
Manuscripts
I ride over the hills and I see the sun rise on America. I see a vast continent through the purple haze. I see the deserts and the jungles - the summer sun and the winter snow. I see the people who live in this country - as they came, different a!' the corners of the earth they left, and as they are today, one and indivisible - the lifeblood of the land. I see their farms and their great cities. I see them alone and in milling crowds, and I hear the tramp of their marching feet.
Album Pieces, Elizabeth Calkins
Album Pieces, Elizabeth Calkins
Manuscripts
There are many scenes in my life which I shall never forget, though I have no tangible reminders. There is one which must have taken place when I was very / young, for the chief character is my great-grandma Smith, who died when she was ninety-eight, and that Was shortly after my third birthday. I can see her standing, as stern and straight as her unbending words, on the walk that led down to the street in front of the house. In the background there Was a corner of the porch with the side street vanishing behind it, for the …
A New Formal, Margaret Brayton
A New Formal, Margaret Brayton
Manuscripts
The girl stood in the narrow doorway a moment before she went, slowly, into the living-room. She did not speak to her mother who was sitting in the dingy, brown leather chair by the window, did not seem to notice the anxious, gray eyes staring at her through old-fashioned, horn-rimmed glasses. She walked aimlessly about the room, then stopped to peer out of the window. "Mother," the girl began, still looking through the window into the cold, December twilight.
They Flash Upon That Inward Eye, Helen Fleischer
They Flash Upon That Inward Eye, Helen Fleischer
Manuscripts
Of course we never want or intend to forget the dear loved ones with whom we have lived and learned - those who have enriched our minds with their wisdom, beliefs, and interpretations of life, and have given us a gallery of happy memories which have a permanent place along with our ever increasing store of knowledge. However vivid these personalities may seem to us, yet, a few turns of the pages of a photograph album can bring their faces back again without any effort put forth on our part. Allow me to open this priceless book in order to …
Three Stages In My Mother's Life, John Whitaker
The Case Of The Pearl Necklace, William S. Mclean
The Case Of The Pearl Necklace, William S. Mclean
Manuscripts
I had been teaching a class in psychology at Turner College for four years, when an incident occurred that threatened to bring the taint of scandal on the whole school. A member of one of the sororities reported the loss of a valuable pearl necklace, which, she thought, had been stolen during the dinner hour. The college officials made every attempt to discover the thief with little success. Suspicion's finger pointed to a young man by the name of Henry Stewart, but there was no tangible evidence upon which to make an accusation. Then Dr. Klinger, the president, asked me …
Grandpa's Story, Mary Margrette Schortemeier
Grandpa's Story, Mary Margrette Schortemeier
Manuscripts
Grandpa was coming in. Leaning on his cane, she thought. She'd look around and see. Yes, leaning on his cane. And ready for his lunch. Noon meal was always dinner to him, though, even if it was only a cheese sandwich and a glass of milk.
Non-Conformist, Jeanne Gass
Non-Conformist, Jeanne Gass
Manuscripts
Once Upon a time there was a little red horse. Not a real horse you know, but a wooden horse - a Merry-Go-Round horse. He was a nice little horse with a well developed personality and but one defect- he was red instead of gray. The One who made him had made a mistake, you know. Instead of making him gray with red spots he made him red with gray spots. Upon discovering this terrible mistake he ran to another of the Ones who make horses and confessed with averted eyes,
Lynch, Gwen Hayes
Lynch, Gwen Hayes
Manuscripts
"That's Lynch up there," volunteered Duke. Tom peered through the darkness up the tracks towards a jeweled spot at the end of the long narrow valley. The lights looked like children being dismissed from school, marching up the sides of the two mountains at first in neat rows outlining the terraces, then the few ahead, forgetting discipline in the sheer joy of freedom, scattering over the mountains in disarray. That one highest up is like I am, Tim thought, gladdest to get away from school.