Classics Books

In which Certain Details regarding a Lost Opal are Set Forth. Sandy MacWhirter would have an open fire. He had been brought up on blazing logs and warm hearths, and could not be happy without them. In his own boyhood's home the fireplace was the shrine, and half the orchard and two big elms had been offered up on its altar. There was no chimney in No. 3 when he moved in—no place really to put... more...

SIR, The Bible lately presented to the Royal Society by Count de Salis, being a version into a language as little attended to in this country, as it may appear curious to those who take pleasure in philological inquiries; I embrace this opportunity to communicate to you, and, with your approbation, to the Society, all that I have been able to collect concerning its history and present state. This... more...

CHAPTER I. A PRETTY WOMAN LAYS A PLOT, AND HIRES A GARDENER. "By Jove! I have missed her; you are a very Circe, Mrs. Tompkins." The speaker, one of the handsomest men I have ever seen, started to his feet as a beautiful Italian mantel clock rang in silver chimes the hour of midnight. "Sit down again my dear Captain, I have not told you all, and am a wilful woman and must have my way. I know... more...

CHAPTER I INTRODUCING FOUR BOYS "Hurrah, boys, it's snowing at last! Aren't you glad?" "Glad? You bet I'm glad, Snap! Why I've been watching for this storm for about six months!" "There you go, Whopper!" answered Charley Dodge, with a grin. "Six months indeed! Why, we haven't been home six months." "Well, it seems that long anyway," said... more...

And so I am to write a story—but of what, and where? Shall it be radiant with the sky of Italy? or eloquent with the beau ideal of Greece? Shall it breathe odor and languor from the orient, or chivalry from the occident? or gayety from France? or vigor from England? No, no; these are all too old—too romance-like—too obviously picturesque for me. No; let me turn to my own land—my own New... more...

THE DOOM OF SOULIS."They roll'd him up in a sheet of lead—A sheet of lead for a funeral pall;They plunged him in the caldron red,And melted him—lead, and bones, and all."—Leyden. A Gazetteer would inform you that Denholm is a village beautifully situated near the banks of the Teviot, about midway between Jedburgh and Hawick, and in the Parish of Cavers; and perhaps, if of modern... more...

HEADSTRONG AND HEADLONG Far from any house or hut, in the depth of dreary moor-land, a road, unfenced and almost unformed, descends to a rapid river. The crossing is called the "Seven Corpse Ford," because a large party of farmers, riding homeward from Middleton, banded together and perhaps well primed through fear of a famous highwayman, came down to this place on a foggy evening, after heavy... more...

Schalken the Painter "For he is not a man as I am that we should come together; neither is there any that might lay his hand upon us both. Let him, therefore, take his rod away from me, and let not his fear terrify me." There exists, at this moment, in good preservation a remarkable work of Schalken's. The curious management of its lights constitutes, as usual in his pieces, the chief... more...

DUST In the dull hot dusk of a summer's day a green touring-car, swinging out of the East Drive, pulled up smartly, trembling, at the edge of the Fifty-ninth Street car-tracks, then more sedately, under the dispassionate but watchful eye of a mounted member of the Traffic Squad, lurched across the Plaza and merged itself in the press of vehicles south-bound on the Avenue. Its tonneau held four... more...

CHAPTER I. THE GRAND TOUR OF JEAN JACQUES BARBILLE "Peace and plenty, peace and plenty"—that was the phrase M. Jean Jacques Barbille, miller and moneymaster, applied to his home-scene, when he was at the height of his career. Both winter and summer the place had a look of content and comfort, even a kind of opulence. There is nothing like a grove of pines to give a sense of warmth in winter... more...