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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



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The genre of fiction is interesting to read not only by the process of cognition and the desire to empathize with the fate of the hero, this genre is interesting for the ability to rethink one's own life. Of course the reader may accept the author's point of view or disagree with them, but the reader should understand that the author has done a great job and deserves respect. Take a closer look at genre fiction in all its manifestations in our elibrary.



Read books online » Fiction » Mr. Dooley Says by Finley Peter Dunne (best books for 7th graders txt) 📖

Book online «Mr. Dooley Says by Finley Peter Dunne (best books for 7th graders txt) 📖». Author Finley Peter Dunne



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to do to stand this here testymony off?' says th' Judge. 'I propose,' says th' State's attorney, 'to prove be some rale experts, men who have earned their repytations be testifyin' eight ways fr'm th' jack in a dozen criminal cases, that so far fr'm bein' insane on this particklar night, this was th' on'y time that he was perfeckly sane.' 'Oh, look here, Judge,' says Bedalia Sassyfrass iv _Th' Daily Fluff_, 'this here has gone far enough. Th' man's not guilty, an' if ye don't want a few remarks printed about ye, that'll do ye no good, ye'll let him off.' 'Don't pay anny attintion to what she says, Fitzy,' says another lady. 'Her decayed newspa-aper has no more circulation thin a cucumber. We expict ye to follow th' insthructions printed in our vallyable journal this mornin'.'

"'Sir,' says a tall man, risin' in his place, 'I am th' Riv'rend Thompson Jubb.' 'Not th' notoryous shepherd iv that name?' 'Th' same,' says th' Riv'rend Jubb. 'That lowly worker in th' vineyard iv th' Lord who astonished th' wurruld be atin' glass in th' pulpit an' havin' th' Bible tattooed on him. I wish th' privilege iv standin' on me head an' playin' "A charge to keep I have" on the accorjeen with me feet. 'Granted,' says th' coort. 'I will now charge th' jury as to th' law an' th' fact: I am all mixed up on th' law; th' fact is there's a mob outside waitin' to lynch ye if ye don't do what it wants. Th' coort will now adjourn be th' back dure.' 'Where's th' pris'ner?' says th' expert. 'He has gone to addhress a mothers' meetin',' says th' clerk. 'Thin I must be goin' too,' says th' expert. An' there ye ar-re."

"I'm glad that fellow got me off", said Mr. Hennessy, "but thim experts ar-re a bad lot. What's th' difference between that kind iv tistymony an' perjury?"

"Ye pay ye'er money an' take ye'er choice", said Mr. Dooley.


THE CALL OF THE WILD

"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I see me frind Tiddy Rosenfelt has been doin' a little lithry criticism, an' th' hospitals are full iv mangled authors. Th' next time wan iv thim nature authors goes out into th' woods lookin' f'r his prey he'll go on crutches."

"What's it about?" asked Mr. Hennessy.

"'Twas this way," said Mr. Dooley. "I have it fr'm Hogan, me lithry adviser. He keeps me posted on what's goin' on in lithrachoor, an' I do th' same f'r him on crime. I've always got a little something that's excitin' comin' to me, but this time he's made good. It seems, ye see, that a good manny iv th' la-ads that write th' books have been lavin' th' route iv th' throlley line an' takin' to th' woods. They quit Myrtle an' Clarence an' th' wrong done to Oscar Lumlovitch be th' brutal foreman iv lard tank nine, an' wint to wurruk on th' onhappy love affairs iv Carrie Boo, th' deer, an' th' throubles in th' domestic relations iv th' pan fish an' th' skate. F'r th' last year th' on'y books that Hogan has told me about have been wrote about animiles. I've always thought iv th' beasts iv th' forest prowlin' around an' takin' a leg off a man that'd been sint to Colorado f'r his lungs. But these boys tell me they're diff'rent in their home life. They fall in love, get marrid an' divoorced, bring up fam'lies, an' are supported or devoured be thim, as th' case may be, accumylate money, dodge taxes, dhrink to excess, an' in ivry way act like human bein's. I wudden't be surprised to know that a bear had a tillyphone in his room, an' that th' gopher complained iv his gas bills.

"Ivry time I go up into th' park to see me old frind th' illyphant I wondher what dhreams ar-re goin' on behind that nose iv his that he uses akelly as a garden hose, a derrick, or a knife an' fork. Is he recallin' th' happy days at Barnum's befure brutal man sunk an ice pick into him an' dhrove him to th' park? Is there some wan still there that he thinks iv? Is she alive, is she dead, does she iver dhream iv him as she ates her hay an' rubs her back agin th' bars iv her gilded cage? There's th' hippypotamus. He don't look to be full iv sintiment, but ye never can tell. Manny an achin' heart beats behind a cold an' sloppy exteeryor. Somewhere in sunny Africa a loving fam'ly may be waitin' fr him. Th' wallow at th' riverside is there, with th' slime an' ooze arranged be tinder paws. But he will not return. They will meet, but they will miss him, there will be wan vacant lair.

"Well, sir, just as I'd got to th' frame iv mind whin I'm thinkin' iv askin' that gloomy lookin' allygator in th' park up to spind an avenin' with me, along comes Tiddy Rosenfelt an' says there's nawthin' in it. It's hard on th' boys. They ar-re doin' th' best they can. Ye can't expect an author to lave his comfortable flat an' go three or four thousand miles to larn whether th' hero iv his little love story murdhers his uncle be bitin' him abaft th' ear or be fellin' him with a half Nelson an' hammer-lock. Why should he? Who wud feed th' goold fish while he was gone?

"No, sir, he does just right. Instead iv venturin' into th' wilds an' p'raps bein' et up be wan iv his fav'rite charackters, he calls f'r some tea an' toast, jabs his pen into th' inkwell, an' writes: 'Vichtry was not long in th' grasp iv th' whale. Befure he cud return to his burrow Tusky Bicuspid had seized him be th' tail an' dashed his brains out agin a rock. With a leap in th' air th' bold wolf put to rout a covey iv muskrats, those evil sojers iv fortune that ar-re seen hoverin' over ivry animile battlefield. Wan blow iv his paw broke th' back iv th' buffalo. With another he crushed a monsthrous sage hen, at wanst th' most threacherous an' th' hardiest iv th' beasts iv th' wild. Paralyzed be th' boldness iv th' wolf, th' camel an' th' auk fled fr'm th' scene iv havoc, as is their wont. All that remained iv his inimies now was th' cow, which defied him fr'm the branches iv a pine tree an' pelted him with th' monsthrous fruit iv this cillybrated viggytable. Now, it is well known that however aven they may be in a boording house, th' wolf is no match f'r a cow in a tree. But this was no ordhinary wolf. As he heerd th' low cry iv' his mate he was indowed with th' strength iv a thousand piany movers. With a gesture iv impatience he shed his coat, f'r it was Spring, childher, an' he shud've been more careful; he shed his coat, swiftly climbed th' tree an' boldly advanced on th' foe. His inimy give th' low growl iv his hated thribe. How manny a time have I heerd it in Englewood an' shuddered with fear. But th' dauntless Tusky answered back with his battle song, th' long chirp iv th' wild wolf, his wife accompanyin' him fr'm th' foot iv th' tree on a sheep bone. With wan spring th' inthrepid wolf sprang at his inimy. She thried to sink her venomous fangs into his wish-bone, but with incredulous swiftness, he back-heeled an' upper-cut her, swung left to body an' right to point iv jaw, an' with wan last grimace iv defiance th' gr-reat bulk iv th' monsther fell tin thousand feet into th' roarin' torrent an' took th' count. Tusky heerd th' soft love-note iv his mate. She was eatin' th' whale. He hastily descinded. An' so peace come to th' jungle.'

"That sounds all right to me. I like to see th' best man or th' best animile win. An' I want to see him win good. It wudden't help me story to tell about Tusky goin' home with wan ear gone an' his eye blacked, an' tellin' his wife that he'd just about managed to put wan over that stopped another wolf. That's what usually happens up this way, an' it ain't very good readin'. When I want to tell a story that'll inthrest me frinds I give it to thim good. Whin I describe me fav'rite hero, Dock Haggerty, I tell about him throwin' wan man out iv th' window an' usin' another as a club to bate th' remainin' twelve into submission. But if I had to swear to it, an' wasn't on good terms with th' Judge, I wudden't say that I iver see Dock Haggerty lick more than wan man--at a time. At a time, mind ye. He might take care iv a procession iv Johnsons. But he'd be in throuble with a couple iv mimbers iv th' Ethical Culture Society that came to him at th' same moment. 'If iver more thin wan comes at wanst,' says th' Dock, 'I'm licked,' he says.

"But that ain't what I tell late at night, an' it ain't what I want to read. Ye bet it ain't. If I wint over to a book store an' blew in me good thirty-nine cints f'r a dollar-an'-a-half book, I'd want some kind iv a hero that I never see around these corners. Th' best day I iver knew Jawn L. Sullivan had a little something on me. I won't say it was much, but now that we're both retired, I'll say that I'm glad I niver challenged him. But I wudden't look at a book, an' I wudden't annyway, but I wudden't let Hogan tell me about a hero that cudden't wear an overcoat an' rubber boots, have wan arm done up in a sling, an' something th' matther with th' other, blue spectatacles on his eyes, a plug hat on his head, th' aujeence throwin' bricks at him, an' th' referee usin' a cross-cut saw on his neck, an' thin make two hundher an' fifty Jawn L. Sullivans establish th' new record f'r th' leap through th' window. Whin I want a hero, I want a good wan. I don't care whether 'tis a wolf, a sojer, or a Prisident. It all comes to th' same thing--whether 'tis Hogan's frind, th' Wolf that he's been talkin' about f'r a year, or that other old frind iv his that he used to talk about--what d'ye call him?--ah, where's me mind goin'?--Ivanhoe.

"But Tiddy Rosenfelt don't feel that way about it. He's called down thim nature writers just th' same way he'd call me down if I wint befure th' fifth grade at th' Brothers' school an' told thim what I thought wud inthrest thim about Dock Haggerty. What does he say? I'll tell ye. 'I do not wish to be harsh,' says he, 'but if I wanted to charackterize these here nature writers, I wud use a much shorter an' uglier wurrud thin liar, if I cud think iv wan, which I cannot. Ye take, f'r example, What's-his-name. Has this man iver been outside iv an aviary? I doubt it. Here he has a guinea pig killin' a moose be bitin' it in th' ear. Now it is notoryous to anny lover iv th' wilds, anny man with a fondness f'r these monarchs iv forests, that no moose can be kilt be a wound in th' ear. I have shot a thousand in th' ear with no bad effects beyond makin' thim hard iv hearin'.

"'Here is a book befure me be wan iv these alleged nature writers. This is a man whose name is a
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