Books with author John Kendrick Bangs Bangs

John Kendrick Bangs (May 27, 1862 – January 21, 1922) was an American author, editor and satirist. This volume contains the THE GENIAL IDIOT of the famous humorous series "The Idiot", written by American author, editor and satirist John Kendrick Bangs, in which an odd character of simple thinking out-foxes those who think they are his better. While reading it, you won't be able to control yourself at times, and you will just laught outloud...

The book begins with Charon, ferryman of the Styx startled--and annoyed--by the arrival of a house boat on his mystical river. At first afraid that the boat will put him out of business, he later finds out that he is to be appointed the boat's janitor. What follows are eleven stories set on the house boat. There is no central theme; each chapter features various souls from history and mythology, and in the twelfth chapter the house boat disappears, seguing into the sequel, Pursuit of the House-Boat.

The Enchanted Type-Writer is a collection of short stories by the American author John Kendrick Bangs, written in 1899 in the style that has become known as Bangsian fantasy. Bangs attributes many of the stories to the late (and invisible) James Boswell, who has become an editor for a newspaper in Hades, and who communicates with the author by means of an old typewriter. The fantasy stories in this book are part of the author's Hades series, named for the stories' setting.

Jimmieboy's father had bought him a bicycle, and inasmuch as it was provided with a bag of tools and a nickel plated bell the small youth was very much pleased with the gift. "It's got rheumatic tires, too," he said, when describing it to one of his little friends. "What's that?" asked the boy. "Big pieces of hose pipe," said Jimmieboy. "They run all around the outside of the wheel and when you fill 'em up with wind and screw 'em up tight so's the wind can't get out, papa says, you can go over anything easy as a bird." "I s'pose," said the little friend, "it's sort of like sailing, maybe. The wind keeps blowing inside o' those pipes and that makes the wheels go round." "I guess that's it," returned Jimmieboy. "But I don't see why they call 'em rheumatic," said the other boy. "Nor I don't, either," said Jimmieboy, "unless it's because they move a little stiff at first." It was not long, however, before Jimmieboy discovered that his father had made a mistake when he said that the pneumatic tire would enable a bicycle to ride over anything, for about a week later Jimmieboy tried to ride over the shaft of a lawn mower with his wheel, with disastrous results. The boy took a header, and while he himself was not hurt beyond a scratch or two and a slight shaking up, which took away his appetite, the wonderful rubber tire was badly battered. What was worse, the experience made Jimmieboy a little afraid of his new possession, and for some time it lay neglected.

This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book.

IT was one of those dull, drab, depressing days when somehow or other it seemed as if there wasn't anything anywhere for anybody to do. It was raining outdoors, so that Alice could not amuse herself in the garden, or call upon her friend Little Lord Fauntleroy up the street; and downstairs her mother was giving a Bridge Party for the benefit of the M. O. Hot Tamale Company, which had lately fallen upon evil days. Alice's mother was a very charitably disposed person, and while she loathed gambling in all its forms, was nevertheless willing for the sake of a good cause to forego her principles on alternate Thursdays, but she was very particular that her little daughter should be kept aloof from[Pg 4] contaminating influences, so that Alice found herself locked in the nursery and, as I have already intimated, with nothing to do. She had read all her books—The House of Mirth, the novels of Hall Caine and Marie Corelli—the operation for appendicitis upon her dollie, while very successful indeed, had left poor Flaxilocks without a scrap of sawdust in her veins, and therefore unable to play; and worst of all, her pet kitten, under the new city law making all felines public property, had grown into a regular cat and appeared only at mealtimes, and then in so disreputable a condition that he was not thought to be fit company for a child of seven.

“Thought is everything. Pain is something. Hence where there is no thought there can be no pain. Wherefore if you have a pain it is evident that you have a thought. To be rid of the pain stop thinking.” CONTENTS I. BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION II. A LITTLE DINNER TO SOME OLD FRIENDS III. IN THE LIBRARY IV. AS TO A SMALL DINNER V. ON THE MAINTENANCE OF AN ATTIC VI. THE IDIOT'S GARDEN VII. HOUSEHOLD POETRY VIII. SOME CONSIDERATION OF THE HIRED MAN IX. ON SOCIAL ACCOUNTS X. AS TO SANTA CLAUS XI. AS TO NEW-YEAR'S DAY XII. SOME DOMESTIC INTENTIONS XIII. A SUBURBAN COMPLICATION XIV. SOME CONSIDERATION OF THE MOTH XV. SOME CONSIDERATION OF THE BURGLAR XVI. CONCLUSION "My scheme of living is based upon being true to myself. You may class me with Baron Munchausen if you choose; I shall not mind so long as I have the consolation of feeling, deep down in my heart, that I am a true realist, and diverge not from the paths of truth as truth manifests itself to me."