Classics Books

CHAPTER I THE NEW CAR Half of a small boy protruded from the oven, his stout tan shoes waving convulsively. "Twaddles!" Nora coming into her orderly kitchen was amazed."Glory be, child, are you making toast of yourself?" The shoes gave a final wriggle and Twaddles deftly backed out of the oven, turning to show a flushed face and a pair of dark, dancing eyes. "What are ye doing?"... more...

The Inhumanities of Parents--Corporal Punishment. Not long ago a Presbyterian minister in Western New York whipped his three-year-old boy to death, for refusing to say his prayers. The little fingers were broken; the tender flesh was bruised and actually mangled; strong men wept when they looked on the body; and the reverend murderer, after having been set free on bail, was glad to return and take... more...

TRAGEDY There, pressed so close to the pane of the window that the nose was flattened grotesquely, eyes wildly staring, hair disheveled, was a face that even in that tense moment the girls recognized! the face of Professor Dempsey! It took the boys perhaps a second to fling out of the room, jump down the steps of the porch and circle the house to the window. And yet, in that second, the man was gone,... more...

YOUNG USHER. You gave read of that remarkable man, Mr. Usher, who was Archbishop of Armagh. I will tell you something about his early childhood. He was born in Dublin, in the year 1580, and when a little boy he was fond of reading. He lived with his two aunts who were born blind, and who acquired much knowledge of the Scriptures by hearing others read the Scriptures and other good books. At seven years... more...

Why does your brand sae drop wi' blude, Edward, Edward? Why does your brand sae drop wi' blude, And why sae sad gang ye, O?" "O I hae kill'd my hawk sae gude, Mither, mither; O I hae kill'd my hawk sae gude, And I had nae mair but he, O."—ANONYMOUS The Horde of sleek ships arose in the west at twilight—gleaming slivers that reflected the dying sun as they lanced... more...

Scholars Say He is the Only American Myth. Paul Bunyan is the hero of lumbercamp whoppers that have been handed down for generations. These stories, never heard outside the haunts of the lumberjack until recent years, are now being collected by learned educators and literary authorities who declare that Paul Bunyan is "the only American myth." The best authorities never recounted Paul... more...

I The beauty of midsummer lay upon the land—the mountains and plains of Chihuahua. It was August, the month of melons and ripening corn. High aloft in the pale blue vault of heaven, a solitary eagle soared in ever widening circles in its flight toward the sun. Far out upon the plains the lone wolf skulked among the sage and cactus in search of the rabbit and antelope, or lay panting in the scanty... more...

PIERRE AND LUCE Pierre plunged into the subway. A feverish, a brutal crowd. On his feet near the door, closely pressed in a bank of human bodies and sharing the heavy atmosphere passing in and out of their mouths, he stared without seeing them at the black and rumbling vaults over which flickered the shining eyes of the train. The same heavy shadows lay in his mind, the same gleams, hard and tremulous.... more...

INTRODUCTION The publication of Pamela; or, Virtue Rewarded on 6 November 1740 occasioned the kind of immediate and hyperbolic praise which would have turned the head of an author less vain than Richardson. Proclaimed by Aaron Hill as being "the Soul of Religion," and by Knightley Chetwood as the book next to the Bible which ought to be saved "if all the Books in England were to be... more...

THEY TOLD ME They told me Pan was dead, but I  Oft marvelled who it was that sangDown the green valleys languidly  Where the grey elder-thickets hang. Sometimes I thought it was a bird  My soul had charged with sorcery;Sometimes it seemed my own heart heard  Inland the sorrow of the sea. But even where the primrose sets  The seal of her pale loveliness,I found amid the violets  Tears of an... more...