Books published by publisher Transcript Book

Agent Nine and the Jewel Mystery - A Story of Thrilling Exploits of the G-Men by Graham M. DeanBob Houston, the youngest agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, stepped out of the Department of Justice Building and turned toward home, his heart beating faster than it had in months. It hardly seemed real but he was now a full-fledged agent in the greatest man hunting division in the Federal Government.Bob paused a moment at the curb. Another man who had emerged from the justice building joined him. It was his uncle, Merritt Hughes, one of the most famous detectives in the department. He put his arm around Bob’s shoulders and shook him in a rough but friendly embrace.“Well, Bob, how does it feel to be a real federal agent?” he asked.It was a moment before Bob replied, and when he finally spoke the words came slowly.“I hardly know,” he confessed, “as yet it doesn’t seem real, but there is one thing I do know—I’m going to work night and day to make a success of this new job.”“Don’t worry about making a success,” advised his uncle. “You’ve got the stuff to make good or you wouldn’t have been taken into the department.”“When do you think I’ll get my first assignment on a new case?” asked Bob.

Jack, the Young Ranchman - A Boy's Adventures in the Rockies by George Bird GrinnellFar away in the west, close to the backbone of the continent, lies the sage-brush country where the happenings described in the following pages took place.The story is about real things and about real people, many of whom are alive to-day. The ranch lies in the Rocky Mountains, in a great basin, walled in by mountains on every hand, and 7,500 feet above the level of the sea.The life there was exciting. There was good hunting—antelope and elk and bears and buffalo; and, far away—yet near enough to be very real—there were wild Indians.It is a pleasure to review those days in memory.

Out with Garibaldi - A story of the liberation of Italy by G. A. HentyTHE invasion of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies by Garibaldi with a force of but a thousand irregular troops is one of the most romantic episodes ever recorded in military history. In many respects it rivals the conquest of Mexico by Cortez. The latter won, not by the greater bravery of his troops, but by their immense superiority in weapons and defensive armour. Upon the contrary, Garibaldi’s force were ill-armed and practically without artillery, and were opposed by an army of a hundred and twenty thousand men carrying the best weapons of the time, and possessing numerous and powerful artillery. In both cases the invaders were supported by a portion of the population who had been reduced to a state of servitude, and who joined them against their oppressors. There is another point of resemblance between these remarkable expeditions, inasmuch as the leaders of both were treated with the grossest ingratitude by the monarchs for whom they had gained such large acquisitions of territory. For the leading incidents in the campaign I have relied chiefly upon Garibaldi’s Autobiography and the personal narrative of the campaign by Captain Forbes, R.N.

The Recollections of A Drummer-Boy by Harry M. KiefferAs some apology would seem to be necessary for the effort, herewith made, to add yet one more volume to the already overcrowded shelf containing the Nation's literature of the great Civil War, it may be well to say a few words in explanation of the following pages.Several years ago the writer prepared a brief series of papers for the columns of St. Nicholas, under the title of "Recollections of a Drummer-Boy." It was thought that these sketches of army life, as seen by a boy, would prove enjoyable and profitable to children in general, and especially to the children of the men who participated in the great Civil War, on one side or the other; while the belief was entertained that they might at the same time serve to revive in the minds of the veterans themselves long-forgotten or but imperfectly remembered scenes and experiences in camp and field. In the outstart it was not the author's design to write a connected story, but rather simply to prepare a few brief and hasty sketches of army life, drawn from his own personal experience, and suitable for magazine purposes. But these, though prepared in such intervals as could with difficulty be spared from the exacting duties of a busy professional life, having been so kindly received by the editors of St. Nicholas, as well as by the very large circle of the readers of that excellent magazine, and the writer having been urgently pressed on all sides for more of the same kind, it was thought well to revise and enlarge the "Recollections of a Drummer-Boy," and to present them to the public in permanent book form. In the shape of a more or less connected story of army life, covering the whole period of a soldier's experience from enlistment to muster-out, and carried forward through all the stirring scenes of camp and field, it was believed that these "Recollections," in the revised form, would commend themselves not only to the children of the soldiers of the late war, but to the surviving soldiers themselves; while at the same time they would possess a reasonable interest for the general reader as well.From first to last it has been the author's design, while endeavoring faithfully to reflect the spirit of the army to which he belonged, to avoid all needless references of a sectional nature, and to present to the public a story of army life which should breathe in every page of it the noble sentiment of "malice towards none, and charity for all."In all essential regards, the following pages are what they profess to be,—the author's personal recollections of three years of army life in active service in the field. In a few instances, it is true, certain incidents have been introduced which did not properly fall within the range of the writer's personal experience; but these have been admitted merely as by the way, or for the sake of being true to the spirit rather than to the letter. Facts and dates have been given as accurately as the author's memory, aided by a carefully kept army journal, would permit; while the names of officers and men mentioned in the narrative are given as they appear in the published muster-rolls, with the exception of several instances, easily recognized by the intelligent reader, in which, for evident reasons, it seemed best to conceal the actors beneath fictitious names. While speaking of the matter of names, an affectionate esteem for a faithful boyhood's friend and subsequent army messmate constrains the writer to mention that, as "Andy" was the name by which Fisher Gutelius, "high private in the rear rank," was commonly known while wearing the blue, it has been deemed well to allow him to appear in the narrative under cover of this, his army sobriquet.

A Journal from Japan - A Daily Record of Life as Seen by a Scientist by Marie Carmichael StopesThis daily journal was written primarily because I well knew that time would force the swiftly passing incidents and impressions to blur each other in my memory. Then want of leisure tempted me to send the journal home to friends in place of letters, and the two or three for whom I originally intended it widened the circle by handing it on to many others, until it has, in a way, become public property. Several of those who have read it have asked me to publish it in book form, and although I vowed that I would not add to the already excessive number of books written on Japan, I have decided to publish this just because it was not written with a view to publication. It is this which gives it any claim to attention, and guarantees its veracity. To preserve its character I have stayed my hand where it has often been tempted to change or revise statements which may sometimes seem too hard in the softening light of distance.Days about which there is no entry were filled with work on my fossils at the University. Many evenings were spent with friends at dinners or dances. Reference to these things has been deleted, for neither the solid work nor the social gaiety is likely to interest any one now.Personalities (alas, not always irrelevant!) have been eliminated of necessity, but I have not attempted to give the text any literary form which it did not originally possess. The words are exactly those jotted down at the time and place that they profess to be, and therefore mirror, as no rewritten phrases could, the direct impression that that time and place made on me. Japan is changing swiftly, and I saw things from a point of view that differs somewhat from any recorded, so that perhaps these daily impressions may have an interest for those who cannot visit Japan, and in the future for those who prefer facts to fair sounding generalisations and beautifully elaborated theories.

The Ocean Wireless Boys on War Swept Seas by John Henry GoldfrapThe newspapers announced in large type that the Kronprinzessin Emilie, the crack flyer of the Bremen-American line, was to carry from the United States to Germany the vast sum of $6,000,000 in bullion. On her sailing day the dock, from which she was to start on what destined to prove the most eventful voyage ever made since men first went down to the sea in ships, was jammed with gaping crowds. They interfered with the passengers, and employees of the company had to jostle their way among them as best they could.The thought of the vast fortune stowed within the tall, steel sides of the liner had attracted them, although what they expected to see of it was difficult to imagine. But just as a crowd will gather outside a prison where some notorious malefactor is confined, feasting their eyes on its gray walls without hope of seeing the lawbreaker himself, so the throngs on the Kronprinzessin Emilie’s pier indulged their curiosity by staring at the colossal casket that held such an enormous fortune.Among those who had to win their way through the crowd almost by main force, were two tanned, broad-shouldered youths carrying suitcases and handbags.“My, what a mob, Jack!” exclaimed one of them, elbowing himself between a stout man who was gazing fixedly at the vessel’s side—and showed no disposition to move—and an equally corpulent woman whose mouth was wide open and whose eyes bulged as if she almost expected to see the ship gold-plated instead of black.“Yes, gold’s a great magnet even if it is stowed away inside the specie room of a steamer,” replied Jack Ready. “We ought to feel like millionaires ourselves, Bill, sailing on such a ship.”“A sort of vacation de luxe,” laughed Bill Raynor. “What a chance for the buccaneers of the old days if they could only come to life again. Then there would be real adventure in sailing on the Kronprinzessin.”“I guess we’ve had about all the adventure we want for a time, Bill,” replied Jack, as they finally gained the gang-plank and two white-coated, gilt-buttoned stewards grabbed their hand baggage. “The Pacific and New Guinea provided what you might call ‘an ample sufficiency’ for me in that line.”

Baseball Joe, Captain of the Team - or, Bitter Struggles on the Diamond by Lester ChadwickBaseball Joe is the fictional hero of a number of children's books written by Howard R. Garis under the name of "Lester Chadwick". The series follows the main character, a star baseball player named Joe Matson, from high school to college (at Yale University) and then to success as a professional.“No use talking, Joe, we seem to be on the toboggan,” remarked Jim Barclay, one of the first string pitchers of the Giant team, to his closest chum, Joe Matson; as they came out of the clubhouse at the Chicago baseball park and strolled over toward their dugout in the shadow of the grandstand.“You’re right, old boy,” agreed Joe—“Baseball Joe,” as he was known by the fans all over the country. “We seem to be headed straight for the cellar championship, and at the present rate it won’t be long before we land there. I can’t tell what’s got into the boys. Perhaps I’m as much to blame as any of the rest of them. I’ve lost the last two games I pitched.”“Huh!” snorted Jim. “Look at the way you lost them! You never pitched better in your life. You had everything—speed, curves, control, and that old fadeaway of yours was working like a charm. But the boys played behind you like a lot of sand-lotters. They simply threw the game away—handed it to the Cubs on a silver platter. What they did in the field was a sin and a shame. And when it came to batting, they were even worse. The home run and triple you pasted out yourself were the only clouts worth mentioning.”“The boys do seem to have lost their batting eyes,” agreed Joe. “And when it comes to fielding, they’re all thumbs. What do you think the trouble is?”“Search me,” replied Jim. “We’ve got the same team we had when we started the season. Look at the way we started off: Three out of four from the Brooklyns, the same from the Bostons, and a clean sweep from the Phillies. It looked as though we were going to go through the League like a prairie fire. But the instant we struck the West we went down with a sickening thud. Pittsburgh wiped up the earth with us. The Reds walked all over us. The Cubs in the last two games have given us the razz. We’re beginning to look like something the cat dragged in.”

Nan of the Gypsies by Grace May NorthOne glorious autumn day, when the pale mellow gold of the sunshine softened the ruggedness of the encircling mountains and lay caressingly on the gnarled live oaks, on the sky-reaching eucalyptus, and on the red-berried pepper trees, a tinkling of bells was heard on the long highway that led into the little garden village of San Seritos, half asleep by the gleaming blue Pacific. A gypsy caravan, consisting of three covered wagons drawn by teams of six mules, and followed by a string of horses, drew to one side of the road and stopped. A band of nut-brown, fox-like children scrambled down and began to race about, the older ones gathering sticks for the camp fire which they knew would soon be needed.Four men, aquiline nosed, and with black hair hanging in ringlets to their shoulders, and as many women, gaudily dressed, with red and yellow silk handkerchiefs wound about their heads, prepared to make camp for the night.It was a fittingly picturesque spot for a clump of gnarled live oaks grew about a spring of clear, cold water, which, fed from some hidden source, was never dry.A quarter of a mile away lay the first of the beautiful estates and homes of Spanish architecture, for which San Seritos was far famed.

This edition conteins arround 100 illustration of the complete work Alice`s adventures.The book has inspired numerous film and television adaptations sometimes merging both books Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking Glass and what Alice found there. It tells of a girl named Alice who falls down a rabbit hole into a fantasy world (Wonderland) populated by peculiar, anthropomorphic creatures. The tale plays with logic, giving the story lasting popularity with adults as well as children. It is considered to be one of the best examples of the literary nonsense genre, and its narrative course and structure have been enormously influential, especially in the fantasy genre.

Bliss, and Other Stories by Katherine MansfieldTHERE was not an inch of room for Lottie and Kezia in the buggy. When Pat swung them on top of the luggage they wobbled; the grandmother’s lap was full and Linda Burnell could not possibly have held a lump of a child on hers for any distance. Isabel, very superior, was perched beside the new handy-man on the driver’s seat. Hold-alls, bags and boxes were piled upon the floor. “These are absolute necessities that I will not let out of my sight for one instant,” said Linda Burnell, her voice trembling with fatigue and excitement.Lottie and Kezia stood on the patch of lawn just inside the gate all ready for the fray in their coats with brass anchor buttons and little round caps with battleship ribbons. Hand in hand, they stared with round solemn eyes first at the absolute necessities and then at their mother.“We shall simply have to leave them. That is all. We shall simply have to cast them off,” said Linda Burnell. A strange little laugh flew from her lips; she leaned back against the buttoned leather cushions and shut her eyes, her lips trembling with laughter. Happily at that moment Mrs. Samuel Josephs, who had been watching the scene from behind her drawing-room blind, waddled down the garden path.“Why nod leave the chudren with be for the afterdoon, Brs. Burnell? They could go on the dray with the storeban when he comes in the eveding. Those thigs on the path have to go, dod’t they?”“Yes, everything outside the house is supposed to go,” said Linda Burnell, and she waved a white hand at the tables and chairs standing on their heads on the front lawn. How absurd they looked! Either they ought to be the other way up, or Lottie and Kezia ought to stand on their heads, too. And she longed to say: “Stand on your heads, children, and wait for the store-man.” It seemed to her that would be so exquisitely funny that she could not attend to Mrs. Samuel Josephs.

The Hammer. A Story of the Maccabean Times by Alfred John Church & Richmond SeeleyIt is not so very long since the Apocrypha was found in almost every copy of the English Bible, but in the present day it is seldom printed with it, and very seldom indeed read. One or two of the writings included under this name are trivial and even absurd; but, on the whole, the Apocryphal books deserve far more attention than they receive. Among the foremost, in point of interest and value, must be placed the First Book of Maccabees. Written within fifty years of the events which it records, at a time, it must be remembered, that was singularly barren of historical literature, it is a careful, sober, and consistent narrative. It is our principal, not unfrequently our sole, authority for the incidents of a very important period, a period that was in the highest degree critical in the history of the Jewish nation and of the world which that nation has so largely influenced. It is commonly said that the great visitation of the Captivity finally destroyed in the Hebrew mind the tendency to [pg vi]idolatry. But the denunciations of Ezekiel prove to us that the exiles carried into the land of their captivity the evil which they had cherished in the land of their birth, and it is no less certain that they brought it back with them on their return. It grew to its height in the early part of the Second Century B.C., along with the increasing influence of Greek civilization in Western Asia. The feeble Jewish Commonwealth was more and more dominated by the powerful kingdoms which had been established on the ruins of the empire of Alexander, and the national religion was attacked by an enemy at least as dangerous as the Phœnician Baal-worship had been in earlier days, an enemy which may be briefly described by the word Hellenism. The story of how Judas and his brothers led the movement which rescued the Jewish faith from this peril is the story which we have endeavoured to tell in this volume. Our plan has been to follow strictly the lines of the First Book of Maccabees, going to the Second, a far less trustworthy document, only for some picturesque incidents. The subsidiary characters are fictitious, but the narrative is, we believe, apart from casual errors, historically correct.We have to acknowledge special obligations to Captain Conder’s “Judas Maccabæus,” a volume of the series entitled “The New Plutarch.” We also owe much to Canon Rawlinson’s notes in the “Speaker’s Commentary on the Bible,” to Canon Westcott’s articles in the “Dictionary of the Bible,” and to Dean Stanley’s “Lectures on the Jewish Church.”If any reader should be curious as to the literary partnership announced on the title-page—a partnership that has grown, so to speak, out of another of many years’ standing, shared by the writers as author and publisher—he may be informed that the plan of the story and a detailed outline of it have been contributed by Richmond Seeley, and the story itself written for the most part by Alfred Church.

Roy Blakeley, Lost, Strayed or Stolen by Percy Keese FitzhughOne thing, anyway, I wouldn’t say anything against the scout laws because they are good laws, that’s one sure thing. Even fellows that disobey them have to admit that they are good. If there weren’t any we couldn’t even disobey them, so gee whiz, I’m glad they are in the Handbook. That’s what they are for.I don’t mean we want to disobey them. But anyway, this is what I mean, that even fellows that disobey them ought to be glad they are there, because if they weren’t there they couldn’t disobey them. That’s what Pee-wee Harris calls logic. He says he knows a lot about logic, because his uncle has a friend whose brother is a lawyer.There are twelve of those laws, and the one I like best is law number eight, because it says a scout has to be cheerful and smile a lot. I always smile except when I’m asleep, and I’m not asleep much, because a scout is supposed to be wide awake. When I’m asleep I never disobey any of those laws.I’ll tell you some more about the scout laws, too, only this isn’t going to be a law book, you can bet. A scout is always supposed to do a given task. His dinner is a given task. He’s supposed to do a good turn every day. Maybe you think those are hard, but they are easy. If a scout in my patrol had some gumdrops and I ate half of them so he wouldn’t get sick, that would be a good turn. See?A scout is supposed to save life, too. Once I saved Wig Weigand’s life. He nearly died laughing at Pee-wee Harris, and I got there just in time to push the kid off the springboard into the water so he had to stop talking. That’s one thing I’m crazy about. I don’t mean talking, I mean swimming.Especially a scout is supposed to be observant. That’s one thing about the scouts my sister doesn’t like. She’s crazy about tennis, my sister is; tennis and strawberries. She’s crazy about Harry Donnelle, too; he’s a big fellow. That’s why she doesn’t like it about scouts being observant—I should worry.But anyway, you needn’t think that scouts are always smiling. Lots of times I laugh, he he, but I’m not happy. That’s because we have a lot of trouble on account of not being able to keep our meeting place in one spot very long. Gee williger, Washington had a lot of headquarters and we only have one headquarters, but we have our headquarters in as many places as he did. Gee, there are a lot of people that have to move these days, but they don’t have to move the houses they live in, that’s one good thing. When you have to take your house with you, that’s no fun. Housing problems are bad enough, and transportation problems are bad enough. And besides, I hate problems anyway, especially in arithmetic. But, gee whiz, when you get a housing problem and a transportation problem all rolled into one-good night!