Classics Books

On Monday morning, at about fifteen minutes to eight o'clock, December 7th, 1874, immediately after the shooting, or as soon thereafter as I could collect my scattered senses, which was in about three minutes, I inquired for the sheriff for the purpose of giving myself up; but he nor any of his deputies were on the spot. After waiting a few minutes longer I began to grow impatient at the delay of... more...

TO THE DAISY.   In youth from rock to rock I went  From hill to hill, in discontent  Of pleasure high and turbulent,          Most pleas'd when most uneasy;  But now my own delights I make,  My thirst at every rill can slake,  And gladly Nature's love partake          Of thee, sweet Daisy!   When soothed a while by milder airs,  Thee Winter in the garland... more...

CHAPTER I CAUGHT BY THE CAMERA "This is getting to be an amazing old world," said a young girl, still in her "teens," as she musingly leaned her chin on her hand. "It has always been an amazing old world, Beth," said another girl who was sitting on the porch railing and swinging her feet in the air. "True, Patsy," was the reply; "but the people are doing such... more...

MEMOIR OF BERNARDIN DE ST. PIERRE Love of Nature, that strong feeling of enthusiasm which leads to profound admiration of the whole works of creation, belongs, it may be presumed, to a certain peculiarity of organization, and has, no doubt, existed in different individuals from the beginning of the world. The old poets and philosophers, romance writers, and troubadours, had all looked upon Nature with... more...

Lives of the Irish Bishops, published by Ware, in 1665, and rewritten by Harris in the beginning of the last century, have been long regarded as authentic history; and the statements of these learned writers have been generally accepted without hesitation, being supposed to rest on ancient and indubious documents. It is thus, to take a quite recent example, that the Rev. W. Maziere Brady, D.D., in the... more...

Crowded Out. I am nobody. I am living in a London lodging-house. My room is up three pair of stairs. I have come to London to sell or to part with in some manner an opera, a comedy, a volume of verse, songs, sketches, stories. I compose as well as write. I am ambitious. For the sake of another, one other, I am ambitious. For myself it does not matter. If nobody will discover me I must discover myself.... more...

CHAPTER I OLD STYLE 1. LOCAL COLOR A study of the American novel of the twentieth century must first of all take stock of certain types of fiction which continue to persist, with varying degrees of vitality and significance, from the last quarter of the century preceding. There is, to begin with, the type associated with the now moribund cult of local color, which originally had Bret Harte for its... more...

THE ECONOMIC FUNCTIONS OF VICE FOR some inscrutable reason which she has as yet given no hint of revealing, Nature is wondrously wasteful in the matter of generation. She creates a thousand where she intends to make use of one. Imbued with the maternal instinct, the female cod casts millions of eggs upon the waters, expecting them to return after many days as troops of interesting offspring. Instead,... more...

NUMBER FIVE. We who are Tiverton born, though false ambition may have ridden us to market, or the world's voice incited us to kindred clamoring, have a way of shutting our eyes, now and then, to present changes, and seeing things as they were once, as they are still, in a certain sleepy yet altogether individual corner of country life. And especially do we delight in one bit of fine mental... more...

Although as brash as any other ace newspaper reporter for a high school weekly—and there is no one brasher—Garth was scared. His head crest lifted spasmodically and the rudimentary webbing between his fingers twitched. To answer a dare, Garth was about to attempt something that had never been dared before: a newspaper interview with The Visitor. There had been questions enough asked and answered... more...