I invite you to read the free books that are available for download on this site. To me, they are inspirational and have helped me to achieve my own personal growth and understanding. Today I was getting my daily dose of inspiration and motivation by again reading “The Magic Story” by Frederick Van Rensselaer Dey.

was born in Watkins Glen, New York, February Frederick Dey10, 1861. He was educated at the Havana N. Y. Academy, and later graduated from the Law School of Columbia University. Dey took up story writing for amusement while convalescing from a serious illness, and later made it his life work. Two of his earlier books, “The Magic Word” and “,” written in 1899, were extremely popular.

The Magic Story
I was sitting alone in the cafe and had just reached for the sugar preparatory to putting it into my coffee. Outside, the weather was hideous. Snow and sleet came swirling down, and the wind howled frightfully. Every time the outer door opened, a draft of unwelcome air penetrated the uttermost corners of the room. Still I was comfortable. The snow and sleet and wind conveyed nothing to me except an abstract thanksgiving that I was where it could not affect me. While I dreamed and sipped my coffee, the door opened and closed, and admitted - Sturtevant.

Sturtevant was an undeniable failure, but, withal, an artist of more than ordinary talent. He had, however, fallen into the rut traveled by ne’er-do-wells, and was out at the elbows as well as insolvent.

As I raised my eyes to Sturtevant’s I was conscious of mild surprise at the change in his appearance. Yet he was not dressed differently. He wore the same threadbare coat in which he always appeared, and the old brown hat was the same. And yet there was something new and strange in his appearance. As he swished his hat around to relieve it of the burden of snow dposited by the howling nor’wester, there was something new in the gesticulation. I could not remember when I had invited Sturtevant to dine with me, but involuntarily I beckoned to him. He nodded and presently seated himself opposite to me. I asked him what he would have, and he, after scanning the bill of fare carelessly, ordered from it leisurely, and invited me to join him in coffee for two. I watched him in stupid wonder, but, as I had invited the obligation, I was prepared to pay for it, although I knew I hadn’t sufficient cash to settle the bill. Meanwhile I noticed the brightness of his usual lackluster eyes, and the healthful, hopeful glow upon his cheek, with increasing amazement.

“Have you lost a rich uncle?” I asked. (continued) Download “The Magic Story” here in pdf

My task is done. I have written the recipe for “.” If followed, it cannot fail. Wherein I may not be entirely comprehended, the plus-entity of whosoever reads will supply the deficiency; and upon that Better Self of mine, I place the burden of imparting to generations that are to come, the secret of this all-pervading good, -the secret of being what you have it within you to be.