Harold North Fowler
1 Published Story
Harold North Fowler's Book and Story
A History of Roman Literature
LGBT+ Formatted for the Kindle. Linked Contents:<br>Introduction<br>PART I<br>I. Prehistoric man \u2014 His language one of signs and sounds \u2014 The story of Psammetichus and the Two Babies \u2014 Idiom of language a survival of primitive peoples<br>II. Modern types of early man \u2014 Sign-language of people living on the globe to-day \u2014 The custom of the Uvinza grandees \u2014 The \"good-morning\" of the Walunga tribe \u2014 Signs of hospitality in the sign vocabulary of the North American Indian \u2014 The \"attingere extremis digitis\" of the Romans \u2014 Clap-hands one of the first lessons of the Nursery \u2014 The modern survival of hand-clapping \u2014 \"Is it rude to shake hands, Nurse?\" \u2014 A hypercritical mother \u2014 Plato's rebuke \u2014 Agesilaus and his children \u2014 Nursery classics and critical babies \u2014 \"Lalla, lalla, lalla\" of the Roman child \u2014 The well-known baby dance of \"Crow and caper, caper and crow\"<br>III. Writers on comparative religions show that entire religious observances come down to modern peoples from heathen sources \u2014 The Bohemian Peasant and his Apple Tree \u2014 A myth of long descent found in the rhyme of \"A Woman, a Spaniel, and Walnut Tree\"; our modern \"Pippin, pippin, fly away,\" indicates the same sentiment \u2014 The fairy tale of Ashputtel and the Golden Slipper, the legend from which came our story of Cinderella \u2014 Tylor on Children's Sports \u2014 The mystery of Northern Europe at Christ's coming \u2014 The Baby's Rattle \u2014 Ancestral worship follows sun and moon worship, and gives us the tales of fairies, goblins, and elves \u2014 Boyd Dawkins' story of the Isle of Man farmer \u2014 A Scandinavian Manxman \u2014 Modernised lullaby of a Polish mother \u2014 \"Shine, Stars\" \u2014 \"Rain, rain, go away\" \u2014 Wind making \u2014 Lullabies \u2014 Bulgarian, German, \"Sleep, Baby, Sleep\" \u2014 The lullaby of the Black Guitar \u2014 \"Baby, go to Sleep\" \u2014 English version, \"Hush thee, my Babby\" \u2014 Danish lullaby of \"Sweetly sleep, my little Child\" \u2014 \"Bye, baby bunting\"<br>IV. Elf-land \u2014 Old-time superstitions \u2014 A custom of providing a feast for the dead known in Yorkshire, North-west Ireland, and in Armenia \u2014 The Erl King of Goethe \u2014 Ballet of the Leaf-dressed Girl \u2014 The Spirit of the Waters \u2014 An Irish legend of Fior Usga \u2014 Scotch superstition \u2014 Jenny Greenteeth of Lancashire \u2014 The Merrow of the West of Ireland \u2014 Soul Cages \u2014 The German rhyme of \"O Man of the Sea, come list unto Me\" \u2014 Mysticism among uncivilised races \u2014 The Corn Spirit \u2014 The Rye-wolf \u2014 \"The Cow's in the Corn\" \u2014 \"Ring a ring a rosies\" \u2014 \"Cuckoo Cherry Tree\" \u2014 Our earliest song, \"Summer is a-coming in\" \u2014 \"Hot Cockles\" at Yorkshire funerals \u2014 \"Over the Cuckoo Hill, I oh!\" \u2014 Indian Lore<br>PART II<br>I. Games \u2014 Whipping-tops, Marbles, etc. \u2014 \"I am good at Scourging of my Toppe,\" date 15 \u2014 (?) \u2014 Dice and Pitch-and-Toss \u2014 \"Dab a Prin in my Lottery Book\" \u2014 \"A' the Birds of the Air\" \u2014 Hop Scotch \u2014 \"Zickety, dickety, dock\" \u2014 \"All good Children go to Heaven\" \u2014 \"Mary at the Cottage Door.\" <br>Marriage Games \u2014 \"If ever I Marry I'll Marry a Maid,\" 1557 A.D. \u2014 London Street Games \u2014 A Wedding \u2014 \"Choose one, choose two, choose the nearest one to you\" \u2014 \"Rosy Apple, Lemon, and Pear\" \u2014 The King of the Barbarines \u2014 \"I've got Gold and I've got Silver\" \u2014 A Lancashire Round Game \u2014 \"Fol th' riddle, I do, I do, I do\" \u2014 Round Game of the Mulberry Bush \u2014 \"Pray, Mr. Fox, what time is it?\" \u2014 \"Mother, buy me a Milking Can\" \u2014 \"Here comes a Poor Sailor from Botany Bay\" \u2014 \"Can I get there by Candle-light?\"<br>II. Nursery Games\u2014 A Game for a Wet Day \u2014 \"Cows and Horses walk on four legs\" \u2014 A Game nearly 300 years old \u2014 \"There were two birds sitting on a stone\" \u2014 A B C Game \u2014 \"Hi diddle diddle\" \u2014 \"I Apprentice my Son\" \u2014 An Armenian Child's Game, \"Jack's Alive\" \u2014 Russian Superstition<br>III. Jewish Rhymes<br>... You might like
Seven Years, A Shattered Promise
Noah On the giant screen in Times Square, Chloe Davis, radiant in red, slammed the gavel, and "Davis Innovations" exploded in green numbers. I stood in the crowd, a ghost she couldn't see, having spent seven years in her shadow, building her dream, waiting for the promise she' d made: "It will be you and me, Alex."
Then, a reporter' s question boomed from the speakers: "Rumors of an engagement?" Chloe' s smile widened, one I knew for magazine covers, never reaching her eyes. "The rumors are true," she said, her voice smooth as glass. "I'm engaged to Ethan Hayes. He's my rock." My world dissolved.
I walked away, calling her back later. "Don't be difficult," she said. "I was going to tell you." When I arrived at the sterile penthouse, she walked in with Ethan Hayes. "I made that soup for him," she whispered, pointing to the stove. "His stomach is sensitive. You're a survivor, Alex. You'll be fine without me. But he… he only has me." Then the final blow: "I need you to move out. I'll have a check cut for you. For your… contribution."
"What else would it be about?" she asked, genuinely confused when I laughed, crumbling the five-million-dollar check she offered as payment for seven years of my life. She thought everything had a price. As she fielded a call about flower orders, Ethan flashed a flicker of triumph, a cold calculation that revealed the "fragile" boy was a predator who had won.
But I finally saw the omega symbol on Ethan's collar – my symbol. The one from the necklace she wore, then gave to him. The rage solidified into something colder. "Keep your money, Chloe," I said, letting the check fall. "But there is something of mine I want back." Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal
Johan Gorski The call came at 7:05 PM on our tenth wedding anniversary.
My husband, David, was in an accident.
At the hospital, he was awake, but a young woman, his assistant Chloe, was holding his hand, acting like his wife.
When I walked in, he looked at me, a blank stranger' s stare, then asked, "Who are you?"
He laughed when I said I was his wife, then demanded security remove me, while Chloe, smiling, pretended to cry.
It wasn't just memory loss; it was a cruel, targeted erasure.
I tried proof, the marriage certificate, but he pushed it away as "just a piece of paper."
Then Chloe waltzed in with his favorite soup, and he defended her when I confronted her.
"She' s the only one who' s been here for me!" he screamed.
He snarled that I was "exhausted, haggard," compared to Chloe, who was "kind and gentle."
My wedding ring, a symbol of our forever, flew from my hand as he slapped it away, clinking under the bed.
"Don' t come back," he said, turning his back on me to comfort Chloe.
Later, I learned why: he had been having an affair with Chloe, his mother's 65th birthday ruined by his absence and her answering his phone.
My world shattered when Mark Johnson, David's estranged best friend, told me what David said: "The fake amnesia was a stroke of genius, right? A clean break."
My husband had faked a brain injury to throw me away.
A car hit me, sending me to the hospital, and I knew what I had to do.
When Mark came in, I looked at him, my face blank, then asked, "Are you… my husband?" The Contract Omega
AuroraDreamer Twenty-four hours. Half a million dollars. Or his mother dies.
Omega Caelen Ryn is out of options: his mother is dying, treatment costs half a million dollars, and loan sharks are closing in with brass knuckles and threats. Then a lawyer appears with an offer from Alpha billionaire CEO Aldric Fenmore: marry him for two years, every debt disappears, and his mother will be saved.
The rules are brutal: separate bedrooms, zero feelings, don't fall in love. Their marriage is a transaction. Nothing more. Their first kiss is for the cameras. In public, they play devoted spouses. Behind closed doors, they're strangers.
Until Monaco.
When Aldric's race car spins out at 200 mph, Caelen realizes the truth-he's fallen in love with his husband. And when Aldric kisses him after his victory, raw and desperate and real, the contract between them shatters completely. They broke every rule. They fell impossibly in love.
Aldric's ex returns, the man who destroyed his ability to trust, bringing a ruthless business rival and a plan for revenge. What starts as sabotage escalates into kidnapping, violence, and a premature labor that leaves both their lives hanging by a thread.
In the trauma room, as Caelen bleeds out, the doctor delivers words that break Aldric completely: "You have to choose. We can only save one." The husband he loves. Or the child they never planned for.
In that impossible moment, every vow they made, every sacrifice they offered, and every fragile dream they built together came down to a single, devastating choice.
A contract that was supposed to end. A love that refused to.
Serve Me, My Lord
Wo Ruo Emmett was a loyal footman at the wealthy Patterson estate, desperate to scrub the slum out of his blood.
He abandoned his family and gave his absolute devotion to the beautiful young miss, Clara.
But when the estate faced bankruptcy, Clara ruthlessly framed him for embezzlement to protect her family's wealth.
He was shoved into a police carriage in the freezing rain. Through the window, he saw Clara watching him with fake pity, looking at him like a stray dog being put down.
The judge slammed his gavel, sentencing him to a slow, agonizing death.
Because he had spent all his wages on tailored uniforms to fit in, his mother died in a cheap coffin from an untreated illness, leaving his siblings to starve.
As the thick, coarse rope crushed his windpipe, Emmett was filled with agonizing regret.
He didn't understand how the woman who smiled so sweetly could send him to the gallows without a single ounce of hesitation.
Opening his eyes again, Emmett found himself back in the servant's quarters, exactly three days before the Patterson family's downfall.
This time, he wouldn't be their loyal dog. He was going to be their executioner.
He planned to watch Clara sell herself to the savage new heir, Kearney Bernard, just to keep her luxury.
But at the welcome dinner, the terrifying new master ignored Clara completely, locked his dark, obsessive eyes on Emmett, and whispered.
"You are mine. Nobody touches you."