Classics Books

PREFACE. It was a dark, stormy night in the winter of 1882, when less than a hundred men, all of whom had served their country in crushing the great Rebellion of 1861-'65, gathered around a camp-fire. The white and the colored American were there; so were the German, Frenchman, and Irishman,—all American citizens,—all veterans of the last war. The empty sleeve, the absent leg, the sabred face,... more...

THE LITTLE IRON SOLDIER OR, WHAT AMINADAB IVISON DREAMED ABOUT. AMINADAB IVISON started up in his bed. The great clock at the head of the staircase, an old and respected heirloom of the family, struck one. "Ah," said he, heaving up a great sigh from the depths of his inner man,"I've had a tried time of it." "And so have I," said the wife. "Thee's been kicking and... more...

CHAPTER I A FRIEND IN NEED A light breeze, scented with the smell of the firs, was blowing down the inlet, and the tiny ripples it chased across the water splashed musically against the bows of the canoe. They met her end-on, sparkling in the warm sunset light, gurgled about her sides, and trailed away astern in two divergent lines as the paddles flashed and fell. There was a thud as the blades struck... more...

1. Victorious is the garland-wearing foster-son of Nanda,—the protector of his devotees,—the destroyer of the cruel king,— dark-blue like the delicate tamâla blossoms,—formidable with his many outspread rays,—mighty with all his attendant powers, [Footnote: The Bengali translation explains these as the internal powers (__antara"ngâ__) Hlâdinî, etc., and the external... more...

CHAPTER ITO THE RESCUEWith a series of puffs and chugs a big, shiny motor cycle turned from the road into the graveled drive at the side of a white farmhouse. Two boys sat on the creaking saddles. The one at the front handle bars threw forward the clutch lever, and then turned on the power sharply to drive the last of the gases out of the twin cylinders. The motor cycle came to a stop near a shed, and... more...

W.J. TURNER ROMANCE When I was but thirteen or so  I went into a golden land,Chimborazo, Cotopaxi  Took me by the hand. My father died, my brother too,  They passed like fleeting dreams,I stood where Popocatapetl  In the sunlight gleams. I dimly heard the master's voice  And boys far-off at play,Chimborazo, Cotopaxi  Had stolen me away. I walked in a great golden dream  To and fro... more...

LONELY VALLEYS The maid, smartly capped in starched ruffled muslin and black, who admitted them to the somber luxury of the rectory, hesitated in unconcealed sulky disfavor. "Doctor Goodlowe has hardly started dinner," she asserted. "Just ask him to come out for a little," the man repeated. He was past middle age, awkward in harsh ill-fitting and formal clothes and with a gaunt... more...

CHAPTER I. THE STORY TOLD BY IAN. "There was once a woman whose husband was well to do, but he died and left her, and then she sank into poverty. She did her best; but she had a large family, and work was hard to find, and hard to do when it was found, and hardly paid when it was done. Only hearts of grace can understand the struggles of the poor—with everything but God against them! But she... more...

At a time when the eye of the public is more remarkably, and we trust more kindly, directed to the Fine Arts, we may do some service to the good cause, by reverting to those lectures delivered in the Royal Academy, composed in a spirit of enthusiasm honourable to the professors, but which kindled little sympathy in an age strangely dead to the impulses of taste. The works, therefore, which set forth... more...

A "UNITED HAPPY FAMILY." There was an unpleasant scowl on Mr. Royden's face, as he got out of his wagon in the yard, and walked, with a quick pace, towards the rear entrance of his house. "Samuel!" said he, looking into the wood-shed, "what are you about?" The sharp tone of voice gave Samuel quite a start. He was filling a small flour-sack with walnuts from a bushel-basket... more...