Classics Books

HEPSEY BURKE The noisy, loose-jointed train pulled out of the station, leaving behind it a solitary young man, enveloped in smoke and cinders. In the middle of the platform stood a little building with a curb roof, pointed at both ends like a Noah’s Ark; and the visitor felt that if he could only manage to lift up one side of the roof he would find the animals “two by two,” together with the... more...

POEMS BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON AUTUMN FIRES In the other gardens  And all up the vale,From the autumn bonfires  See the smoke trail! Pleasant summer over  And all the summer flowers;The red fire blazes,  The grey smoke towers. Sing a song of seasons!  Something bright in all!Flowers in the summer,  Fires in the fall! THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE When children are playing alone on the green,In comes... more...

The author of Lavengro, the Scholar, the Gypsy, and the Priest has after his fitful hour come into his own, and there abides securely.  Borrow’s books,—carelessly written, impatient, petulant, in parts repellant,—have been found so full of the elixir of life, of the charm of existence, of the glory of motion, so instinct with character, and mood, and wayward fancy, that their very names are... more...

New Lamps "The fault I find with the Kingfield High School," proclaimed Kathleen Wilcox, squatting on the top of a boot locker, and putting on a new pair of patent leather house shoes with a deliberate eye to their effect upon her surrounding friends and foes, "the fault I find—yes, I do find fault and I shall, Lesbia Ferrars, though you are the oldest pupil and take the school under your... more...

To Melville Best Anderson That is poetry in which truth is expressed in the fewest possible words, in words which are inevitable, in words which could not be changed without weakening the meaning or throwing discord into the melody. To choose the right word and to discard all others, this is the chief factor in good writing. To learn good poetry by heart is to acquire help toward doing this,... more...

I THE LITTLE LOST FOX Marmaduke was sitting on the fence. He wasn't thinking of anything in particular, just looking around. Jehosophat called to him from the barnyard,— "Come'n an' play 'I spy.'" But Marmaduke only grumbled,— "Don't want to." "Well, let's play 'Cross Tag' then," Jehosophat suggested. "Don't want to,"... more...

PREFATORY. In the History and Genealogies of Ancient Windsor, Conn., published in 1859, speaking of the influence of the old French wars upon the religious, moral and social life of New England, I used this language: "Then came war, and young New England brought from the long Canadian campaigns, stores of loose camp vices and recklessness, which soon flooded the land with immorality and infidelity.... more...

CHAPTER I Dawn held the world in stillness. In the vast stretches of barren hills and soft sands there was nothing living or stirring but the figure of an Englishman, standing at the door of his tent. At the hour of sunrise and sunset the East is its own. Every suggestion of Western influence and foreign invasion is wiped out. The going and the coming of the sun throws the land of the Pharaohs, the... more...

THE MANAGING PARTNER.   She is neither your partner, nor ours, nor anybody else's in particular. She is in general business, of which matrimony is only a department. How she came to be concerned in so many concerns, is a mystery of nature, like the origin of the Poet—or rather of black Topsy. The latter, you know, was not born at all, she never had no father nor mother, she was not made by... more...

INTRODUCTION I In the series of books I edit for my sister I confine myself to those that have I believe some special value to Ireland, now or in the future. I have asked Mr. Pound for these beautiful plays because I think they will help me to explain a certain possibility of the Irish dramatic movement. I am writing these words with my imagination stirred by a visit to the studio of Mr. Dulac, the... more...