Books with author William Stoddard

The life and presidency of Cleveland by the man who lived the times. William Stoddard was one of three secretaries to Abraham Lincoln and wrote over 100 books in his lifetime.A Washington insider for decades, Stoddard's view of the great men of his day is fascinating.For the first time, this long out-of-print volume is available as an affordable, well-formatted book for e-readers and smartphones. Be sure to LOOK INSIDE by clicking the cover above or download a sample.

“The Swordmaker’s Son” (1896) is a novel concerning a boy’s life in the Holy Land at the time of Christ. The hero is the son of a Jewish swordmaker who takes part in a rebellion against the Roman authorities. According to “The Spectator” magazine, “Mr. William O. Stoddard in his 'Swordmaker’s Son' ventures into biblical times—the story beginning with the mission of the Baptist’s disciples to Christ and ending with the walk to Emmau—and seems to have managed his difficult task with discretion.”About the author:William O. Stoddard (1835–1925), an author, inventor, and assistant secretary to Abraham Lincoln, wrote 76 books for boys. Other works include “The Lost Gold of the Montezumas,” “The Talking Leaves,” and “The Red Mustang.”

With the Black Prince tells the story of a young Richard Neville, the Lord of Warmont, as he comes into manhood alongside his compatriot Prince Edward of Woodstock, known as the Black Prince, during the rampaging madness of the Hundred Years’ War. With his heroic style, Stoddard transports the reader into the High Middle Ages alongside the Black Prince with edge-of-your-seat adventure for all ages!

THE GODS OF THE MONTEZUMAS. It was a gloomy place. It would have been dark but for a heap of blazing wood upon a rock at one side. That is, it looked like a rock at first sight, but upon a closer inspection it proved to be a cube of well-fitted, although roughly finished, masonry. It was about six feet square, and there were three stone steps leading up in front. Behind this altar-like structure a vast wall of the natural rock, a dark limestone, had been sculptured into the shape of a colossal and exceedingly ugly human face,—as if the head of a stone giant were half sunken in that side of what was evidently an immense cave. There were men in the cave, but no women were to be seen. Several of the men were standing near the altar, and one of them was putting fuel upon the fire. The only garment worn by any of them was a ragged blanket, the Mexican serape. In the middle of the blanket was a hole, and when the wearer's head was thrust through this he was in full dress. There was no present need for carrying weapons, but arms of all sorts—lances, swords, bows and sheaves of arrows—were strewn in careless heaps along the base of the wall. Besides these, and remarkable for their shapes and sizes, there were a number of curiously carved and ornamented clubs. All the men visible were old and emaciated. They were wrinkled, grimy, dark, with long, black-gray hair, and coal-black, beady eyes. Withal, there was about them a listless, unoccupied, purposeless air, as if they were only half alive