Myths and Legends of Our Own Land, vol 9 by Charles M. Skinner

Author: Charles M. Skinner
Language: English
Wordcount: 17,194 / 54 pg
Flesch-Kincaid Reading Ease: 48.5
LoC Category: PN

Downloads: 976 6471
Genres: Myth, Short Story Collection, Fiction and Literature

e silver was found, as promised, but, though a watch was set, nothing further was seen of men or ship for several months.

The four men did return, however, and lived by themselves amid the woods of Saugus, the gossips reporting that a beautiful woman had been seen in their company–the mistress of the pirate chief, for, of course, the mysterious quartette had followed the trade of robbery on the high seas. Three of these men were captured, taken to England, and hanged, but the fourth-Thomas Veale–escaped to a cavern in the wood, where, it was reputed, great treasures were concealed, and there he lived until the earthquake of 1658, when a rock fell from the roof of the cave, closing the entrance and burying the guilty man in a tomb where, it is presumed, he perished of thirst and hunger. Dungeon Rock, of Lynn, is the name that the place has borne ever since.

In 1852 Hiram Marble announced that he had been visited by spirits, who not only told him that the pirates’ spoils were still in their olden hiding-place, but pointed out the spot where the work of excavation should begin. Aided by his son he tunnelled the solid granite for a distance of one hundred and thirty-five feet, the passage being seven feet high and seven wide. Whenever he was wearied the “mediums” that he consulted would tell him to make cuttings to the right or left, and for every fresh discouragement they found fresh work. For thirty years this task was carried on, both father and son dying without gaining any practical result, other than the discovery of an ancient scabbard in a rift. The heiress of the house of Marble alone reaped benefit from their labors, for-resuming on a petty scale the levies of the first dwellers in the rock–she boldly placarded the entrance to the workings “Ye who enter here leave twenty-five cents behind.”

In several cases the chasms that have been caused by wear of water or convulsions of nature (their opposite sides being matched) were believed to have been hiding-places, but, in the old days in New Engl

Myths and Legends of Our Own Land, vol 8 by Charles M. Skinner

Author: Charles M. Skinner
Language: English
Wordcount: 6,232 / 24 pg
Flesch-Kincaid Reading Ease: 65.9
LoC Category: PN

Downloads: 869 6470
Genres: Myth, Short Story Collection, Fiction and Literature

ow valley opening to the bay of San Pablo. In spite of its pleasant situation and fruitful possibilities, it had no inhabitants until 1820, when Miguel Zamacona and his wife Emilia strayed into it, while on a journey, and, being delighted with its scenery, determined to make it their home. In playful mockery of its abundance they gave to it the name El Hambre [Hunger] valley.

After some weeks of such hardship as comes to a Mexican from work, Miguel had built an adobe cabin and got a garden started, while he caught a fish or shot a deer now and then, and they got on pretty well. At last it became necessary that he should go to Yerba Buena, as San Francisco was then called, for goods. His burros were fat and strong, and there should be no danger. Emilia cried at being left behind, but the garden had to be tended, and he was to be back in exactly three weeks. She waited for twenty-two days; then, her anxiety becoming unendurable, she packed an outfit on a burro and started on the trail. From time to time

Twenty-Two Goblins by Anonymous

Translated from the Sanskrit by Arthur W. Ryder

Author: Anonymous
Language: English
Wordcount: 39,226 / 111 pg
Flesch-Kincaid Reading Ease: 90.3
LoC Category: PN

Downloads: 1,888 412

Genres: Myth, Short Story Collection

d a dead body hanging from it. Be so kind as to bring that here.”

When the brave king heard this, he agreed, and, true to his promise, turned south and started. And as he walked with difficulty along the cemetery road, he came upon the sissoo tree at some distance, and saw a body hanging on it. So he climbed the tree, cut the rope, and let it fall to the ground. And as it fell, it unexpectedly cried aloud, as if alive. Then the king climbed down, and thinking it was alive, he mercifully rubbed its limbs. Then the body gave a loud laugh.

So the king knew that a goblin lived in it, and said without fear: “What are you laughing about? Come, let us be off.” But then he did not see the goblin on the ground any longer. And when he looked up, there he was, hanging in the tree as before. So the king climbed the tree again, and carefully carried the body down. A brave man’s heart is harder than a diamond, and nothing makes it tremble.

Then he put the body with the goblin in it on his shoulder, and

Myths and Legends of Our Own Land, vol 7 by Charles M. Skinner

Author: Charles M. Skinner
Language: English
Wordcount: 12,286 / 40 pg
Flesch-Kincaid Reading Ease: 64.3
LoC Category: PN

Downloads: 818 6469
Genres: Myth, Short Story Collection, Fiction and Literature

one pays tribute to the Comanche, and Wacomish leads that nation to war. He is chief of the Shoshone as he is of his own people.”

“Wacomish lies. His tongue is forked, like the snake’s. His heart is black. When the Great Spirit made his children he said not to one, ‘Drink here,’ and to another, ‘Drink there,’ but gave water that all might drink.”

The other made no answer, but as Ausaqua stooped toward the bubbling surface Wacomish crept behind him, flung himself against the hunter, forced his head beneath the water, and held him there until he was drowned. As he pulled the dead body from the spring the water became agitated, and from the bubbles arose a vapor that gradually assumed the form of a venerable Indian, with long white locks, in whom the murderer recognized Waukauga, father of the Shoshone and Comanche nation, and a man whose heroism and goodness made his name revered in both these tribes. The face of the patriarch was dark with wrath, and he cried, in terrible tones, “Accursed of my rac

Olaf the Glorious by Robert Leighton

A Story of Olaf Triggvison, King of Norway, A.D. 995-1000. The following narrative is not so much a story as a biography. My hero is not an imaginary one; he was a real flesh and blood man who reigned as King of Norway just nine centuries ago. The main facts of his adventurous career–his boyhood of slavery in Esthonia, his life at the court of King Valdemar, his wanderings as a viking, the many battles he fought, his conversion to Christianity in England, and his ultimate return to his native land–are set forth in the various Icelandic sagas dealing with the period in which he lived.

Author: Robert Leighton
Language: English
Wordcount: 89,550 / 246 pg
Flesch-Kincaid Reading Ease: 88.3
LoC Category: PN

Downloads: 1,645 4328
Genres: Myth, Fiction and Literature

unded a shrill horn as a sign that the ship was about to leave the harbour.

Then Sigurd came ashore and went about the town on the king’s business, and he thought no more of the yellow haired slave boy until the evening time.

It chanced then that he was again beside the sea.

Down there on the shore he stood alone, idly watching the white winged seabirds–some floating in their own reflections on the calm pools of water left by the outgoing tide, others seeking food amid the green and crimson weeds that lay in bright patches on the rocks–and often he turned his eyes in the direction of the setting sun, where, in the mid sea, Jarl Klerkon’s dragonship moved slowly outward, with her wet oars glistening in the rosy light.

Suddenly from behind him there came a merry childish laugh, and he turned quickly round, and saw very near to him the white clothed slave boy of the gangplank. The lad was standing at the brink of a deep pool of seawater, and had, as it seemed, started a fleet of empty mussel shells

Told by the Northmen by Ethel Mary Wilmot-Buxton

Author: Ethel Mary Wilmot-Buxton
Published: 1908
Language: English
Wordcount: 56,671 / 161 pg
Flesch-Kincaid Reading Ease: 71.7
LoC Category: BL

Downloads: 1,252
Added to site: 2009.07.31 24849

Genres: Myth, Short Story Collection


How All-Father Odin Became Wise

These are the tales which the Northmen tell concerning the wisdom of All-Father Odin.

On the highest hill of Asgard, upon a great chair, sat All-Father Odin, watching from thence all that was happening on and above and under the earth.

The Father of Asas and of men had long grey locks and thick curling beard, and he wore a great blue coat flecked with grey like unto the sky when the fleecy clouds scud across it.

In his hand he carried a spear, so sacred that, if anyone swore an oath upon its point, that oath could never be broken.

On his head he wore, when sitting upon his watch-tower throne, a helmet shaped like an eagle; but when he wandered, as he loved to do, about the earth, he wore a large broad-brimmed hat drawn low over his forehead.

Perched on his broad shoulders sat two inky-black ravens, Hugin and Munin, whom every morning he sent to wing their flight abo

Myths and Legends of Our Own Land, vol 5 by Charles M. Skinner

Author: Charles M. Skinner
Language: English
Wordcount: 9,889 / 34 pg
Flesch-Kincaid Reading Ease: 63.4
LoC Category: PN

Downloads: 926 6467
Genres: Myth, Short Story Collection, Fiction and Literature

as seen drifting with the stream–a hulk of fantastic form unlike anything that sails there in the daytime. As it came opposite the throng, the torchlight showed gigantic negroes who danced on deck, showing horrible faces to the multitude. Not a sound came from the barge, the halloos of the spectators bringing no response, and some boatmen ventured into the stream, only to pull back in a hurry, for the craft had become so strangely enveloped in shadow that it seemed to melt into air.

Next day the Democracy was defeated at the polls, chiefly by the negro vote. In 1880 it reappeared, and, as before, the Republicans gained the day. Just before the election of 1886, Mr. Croxton, Democratic nominee for Congress, was haranguing the people, when the cry of “The Black Barge!” arose. Argument and derision were alike ineffectual with the populace. The meeting broke up in silence and gloom, and Mr. Croxton was defeated by a majority of two thousand.


Though several natural bridges are known in this country, there is but one that is famous the world over, and that is the one which spans Clear Creek, Virginia–the remnant of a cave-roof, all the rest of the cavern having collapsed. It is two hundred and fifteen feet above the water, and is a solid mass of rock forty feet thick, one hundred feet wide, and ninety feet in span. Thomas Jefferson owned it; George Washington scaled its side and carved his name on the rock a foot higher than any one else. Here, too, came the youth who wanted to cut his name above Washington’s, and who found, to his horror, when half-way up, that he must keep on, for he had left no resting-places for his feet at safe and reachable distances–who, therefore, climbed on and on, cutting handhold and foothold in the limestone until he reached the top, in a fainting state, his knife-blade worn to a stump. Here, too, in another tunnel of the cavern, flows Lost River, that all must return to, at some time, if they drink of it. Here, beneath t

Myths and Legends of Our Own Land, vol 6 by Charles M. Skinner

Author: Charles M. Skinner
Language: English
Wordcount: 22,767 / 68 pg
Flesch-Kincaid Reading Ease: 62
LoC Category: PN

Downloads: 901 6468
Genres: Myth, Short Story Collection, Fiction and Literature

s so blocked with windfalls that he put up his horse in Gallipolis and started for his house on foot.

“But where did you pass the night?” inquired his wife, after the greetings were over. “With old Deluse in the Isle of Pines,” he answered. “I saw a light moving about the house, and rapped. No one came; so, as I was freezing, I forced open the door, built a fire, and lay down in my coat before it. Old Deluse came in presently and I apologized, but he paid no attention to me. He seemed to be walking in his sleep and to be searching for something. All night long I could hear his footsteps about the house, in pauses of the storm.”

The clergyman’s wife and son looked at each other, and a friend who was present–a lawyer, named Maren–remarked, “You did not know that Deluse was dead and buried?” The clergyman was speechless with amazement. “You have been dreaming,” said the lawyer. “Still, if you like, we will go there to-night and investigate.”

The clergyman, his son, and the lawyer went to the house about nine o’clock, and as they approached it a noise of fighting came from within –blows, the clink of steel, groans, and curses. Lights appeared, first at one window, then at another. The men rushed forward, burst in the door, and were inside–in darkness and silence. They had brought candles and lighted them, but the light revealed nothing. Dust lay thick on the floor except in the room where the clergyman had passed the previous night, and the door that he had then opened stood ajar, but the snow outside was drifted and unbroken by footsteps. Then came the sound of a fall that shook the building. At the same moment it was noticed by the other two men that young Galbraith was absent. They hurried into the room whence the noise had come. A board was wrenched from the wall there, disclosing a hollow that had been used for a hiding-place, and on the floor lay young Galbraith with a sack of Spanish coins in his hand. His father stooped to pick him up, but staggered back in horror, for the young