Books with author John Kendrick 1862-1922 Bangs

John Kendrick Bangs (May 27, 1862 – January 21, 1922) was an American author, humorist, editor and satirist.He was born in Yonkers, New York. His father Francis Nehemiah Bangs was a lawyer in New York City, as was his brother, Francis S. Bangs.He went to Columbia College from 1880 to 1883 where he became editor of Columbia's literary magazine, Acta Columbia, and contributed short anonymous pieces to humor magazines. After graduation in 1883 with a Bachelor of Philosophy degree in Political Science, Bangs entered Columbia Law School but left in 1884 to become Associate Editor of Life under Edward S. Martin. Bangs contributed many articles and poems to the magazine between 1884 and 1888. During this period, Bangs published his first books.

An excerpt:THERE are moments of supreme embarrassment in the lives of persons given to veracity, indeed it has been my own unusual experience in life that the truth well stuck to is twice as hard a proposition as a lie so obvious that no one is deceived by it at the outset. I cannot quite agree with my friend, Caddy Barlow, who says that in a tight place it is better to lie at once and be done with it than to tell the truth which will need forty more truths to explain it, but I must confess that in my forty years of absolute and conscientious devotion to truth I have found myself in holes far deeper than any my most mendacious of friends ever got into. I do not propose, however, to desert at this late hour the Goddess I have always worshipped because she leads me over a rough and rocky road, and whatever may be the hardships involved in my wooing I intend to the very end to remain the ever faithful slave of Mademoiselle Veracite. All of which I state here in prefatory mood, and in order, in so far as it is possible for me to do so, to disarm the incredulous and sniffy reader who may be inclined to doubt the truth of my story of how the manuscript of the following pages came into my possession. I am quite aware that to some the tale will appear absolutely and intolerably impossible. I know that if any other than I told it to me I should not believe it. Yet despite these drawbacks the story is in all particulars, essential and otherwise, absolutely truthful.

Charon, the Ferryman of renown, was cruising slowly along the Styx onepleasant Friday morning not long ago, and as he paddled idly on hechuckled mildly to himself as he thought of the monopoly in ferriagewhich in the course of years he had managed to build up."It's a great thing," he said, with a smirk of satisfaction--"it's agreat thing to be the go-between between two states of being; to have theexclusive franchise to export and import shades from one state to theother, and withal to have had as clean a record as mine has been.Valuable as is my franchise, I never corrupted a public official in mylife, and--"Here Charon stopped his soliloquy and his boat simultaneously. As herounded one of the many turns in the river a singular object met hisgaze, and one, too, that filled him with misgiving. It was anothercraft, and that was a thing not to be tolerated. Had he, Charon, ownedthe exclusive right of way on the Styx all these years to have itdisputed here in the closing decade of the Nineteenth Century? Had nothe dealt satisfactorily with all, whether it was in the line of ferriageor in the providing of boats for pleasure-trips up the river? Had he notreceived expressions of satisfaction, indeed, from the most exclusivefamilies of Hades with the very select series of picnics he had given atCharon's Glen Island? No wonder, then, that the queer-looking boat thatmet his gaze, moored in a shady nook on the dark side of the river,filled him with dismay."Blow me for a landlubber if I like that!" he said, in a hardly audiblewhisper. "And shiver my timbers if I don't find out what she's therefor. If anybody thinks he can run an opposition line to mine on thisriver he's mightily mistaken. If it comes to competition, I can carryshades for nothing and still quaff the B. & G. yellow-label benzine threetimes a day without experiencing a financial panic. I'll show 'em athing or two if they attempt to rival me. And what a boat! It looks forall the world like a Florentine barn on a canal-boat."Charon paddled up to the side of the craft, and, standing up in themiddle of his boat, cried out,"Ship ahoy!"There was no answer, and the Ferryman hailed her again. Receiving noresponse to his second call, he resolved to investigate for himself; so,fastening his own boat to the stern-post of the stranger, he clambered onboard. If he was astonished as he sat in his ferry-boat, he wasparalyzed when he cast his eye over the unwelcome vessel he had boarded.He stood for at least two minutes rooted to the spot. His eye swept overa long, broad deck, the polish of which resembled that of a ball-roomfloor. Amidships, running from three-quarters aft to three-quartersforward, stood a structure that in its lines resembled, as Charon hadintimated, a barn, designed by an architect enamoured of Florentinesimplicity; but in its construction the richest of woods had been used,and in its interior arrangement and adornment nothing more palatial couldbe conceived."What's the blooming thing for?" said Charon, more dismayed than ever."If they start another line with a craft like this, I'm very much afraidI'm done for after all. I wouldn't take a boat like mine myself if therewas a floating palace like this going the same way. I'll have to see theCommissioners about this, and find out what it all means. I supposeit'll cost me a pretty penny, too, confound them!"A prey to these unhappy reflections, Charon investigated further, and themore he saw the less he liked it. He was about to encounter opposition,and an opposition which was apparently backed by persons of greatwealth--perhaps the Commissioners themselves. It was a consoling thoughtthat he had saved enough money in the course of his career to enable himto live in comfort all his days, but this was not really what Charon wasafter.

The trouble with Harrowby Hall was that it was haunted, and, what was worse, the ghost did not content itself with merely appearing at the bedside of the afflicted person who saw it, but persisted in remaining there for one mortal hour before it would disappear. It never appeared except on Christmas Eve, and then as the clock was striking twelve, in which respect alone was it lacking in that originality which in these days is a sine qua non of success in spectral life. The owners of Harrowby Hall had done their utmost to rid themselves of the damp and dewy lady who rose up out of the best bedroom floor at midnight, but without avail. They had tried stopping the clock, so that the ghost would not know when it was midnight; but she made her appearance just the same, with that fearful miasmatic personality of hers, and there she would stand until everything about her was thoroughly saturated.

Excerpt from The IdiotBecause they are the sort Of views to which suffocation is the most appropriate end, snapped the School Master. Any man who asserts, as you have asserted, that life on a canal-boat has its advantages, ought to go further, and prove his sincerity by liv ing on one.About the PublisherForgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.comThis book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

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John Kendrick Bangs (May 27, 1862 – January 21, 1922) was an American author, humorist, editor and satirist.He was born in Yonkers, New York. His father Francis Nehemiah Bangs was a lawyer in New York City, as was his brother, Francis S. Bangs.He went to Columbia College from 1880 to 1883 where he became editor of Columbia's literary magazine, Acta Columbia, and contributed short anonymous pieces to humor magazines. After graduation in 1883 with a Bachelor of Philosophy degree in Political Science, Bangs entered Columbia Law School but left in 1884 to become Associate Editor of Life under Edward S. Martin. Bangs contributed many articles and poems to the magazine between 1884 and 1888. During this period, Bangs published his first books.

The book is about a man writing a realist romance novel in which his main character (not coincidentally named Marguerite) is aware that she is being written about and is destined to be a part of a romance novel and fall in love with someone whom she detests. The heroine continually ruins the author's plans by attempting to exert his will over her; she refuses to love anyone other than the one she loves. The author then breaks down into madness and consults his friend, who turns out is the narrator of the story. The narrator, who is chronicling the events of the author, becomes furious at Marguerite, so he attempts to "punish" her physically; she is able to see past this and avoid being hurt. It turns out his friend and author becomes angry and threatens to murder the narrator if he attempts to harm her again. It continues like this for a while and becomes more bizarre as the narrator becomes the subject of Marguerite's writing and is threatened to be forced to be a puppet in her novel.