One day...

The return was easy! The stay...Another story, will only be able........

“In all affairs it's a healthy thing now and then to hang a question mark on the things you have long taken for granted.” Bertrand Russell (1872-1970);

Philosopher, Mathematician
Found the following the other day and thought to share...


Westerns are stories whose settings occur in the Wild West of America's history. The period these stories are set in span from the pre-Civil War days to the end of the Indian Wars in 1890. The stories center on conflicts, which can involve cowboys and Indians, ranchers and settlers, or gunslingers and the local law enforcement.




The plot lines of western stories usually follow a pattern of good and honorable protagonist prevailing over the uneducated and evil antagonist. Good and bad characters may also be determined by their method of dress, color of clothing and the faithful steed that they ride. The good guys are always wearing white and they fight the injustices on the prairie or in their small towns. The bad guys tend to wear black, ride ill-mannered horses and are prone to drinking and shooting up the town. Of course, that is in addition to robbing banks and scaring unsuspecting settlers on the outskirts of town.



Even though westerns may seem to follow a certain formula, writers are forever thinking up new twists on old themes. New westerns may have the good guy losing, the bad guys winning, and Indians seeking revenge for wrongdoings perpetrated by the Calvary. Just when you thought all westerns were the same, PublicBookshelf rides in with a new posse of talented writers.

So sit down, shake the dust off your boots, and hop along to the Internet to browse our selection of new and exciting Western titles. http://www.publicbookshelf.com/westerns/



As I sat of an early summer morning in the shade of a tree,

eating fried bacon with a tinker, the thought came to me that I

might some day write a book of my own: a book that should treat

of the roads and by-roads, of trees, and wind in lonely places,

of rapid brooks and lazy streams, of the glory of dawn, the glow

of evening, and the purple solitude of night; a book of wayside

inns and sequestered taverns; a book of country things and ways

and people. And the thought pleased me much.



"But," objected the Tinker, for I had spoken my thought aloud,

"trees and suchlike don't sound very interestin'--leastways--not

in a book, for after all a tree's only a tree and an inn, an inn;

no, you must tell of other things as well."



"Yes," said I, a little damped, "to be sure there is a highwayman--"



"Come, that's better!" said the Tinker encouragingly.



"Then," I went on, ticking off each item on my fingers, "come Tom

Cragg, the pugilist--"



"Better and better!" nodded the Tinker.



"--a one-legged soldier of the Peninsula, an adventure at a

lonely tavern, a flight through woods at midnight pursued by

desperate villains, and--a most extraordinary tinker. So far so

good, I think, and it all sounds adventurous enough."



"What!" cried the Tinker. "Would you put me in your book then?"