Classics Books

There had been a thunder-shower in the middle of the afternoon, but it had passed away about five o'clock, accompanied by sullen rumbles and intermittent flashes of uncertain lightning. Then the sun burst forth and poured its light over the drenched Kentucky landscape. It showed millions of diamonds and pearls strung upon the bending blades of bluegrass; broad expanses of molten silver where the... more...

The Sylphs of the Seasons. Long has it been my fate to hearThe slave of Mammon, with a sneer,  My indolence reprove.Ah, little knows he of the care,The toil, the hardship that I bear,While lolling in my elbow-chair,  And seeming scarce to move: For, mounted on the Poet's steed,I there my ceaseless journey speed  O'er mountain, wood, and stream:And oft within a little day'Mid comets... more...

CHAPTER I. Preface. These chapters were originally prepared for and used as a manual in the public schools of the District of Columbia. In a revised and amplified form they are now published as one of Johns Hopkins University Studies in History and Politics. The aim of this revision is to furnish assistance to students beginning the study of the history and practical workings of our political... more...

CHAPTER I The peaceful stillness of an English summer afternoon brooded over the park and gardens at Overdene. A hush of moving sunlight and lengthening shadows lay upon the lawn, and a promise of refreshing coolness made the shade of the great cedar tree a place to be desired. The old stone house, solid, substantial, and unadorned, suggested unlimited spaciousness and comfort within; and was redeemed... more...

[The following Tale appeared in the Magazine for October 1845. It was intended by the writer as a sketch of some of the more striking features of the railway mania (then in full progress throughout Great Britain), as exhibited in Glasgow and Edinburgh. Although bearing the appearance of a burlesque, it was in truth an accurate delineation (as will be acknowledged by many a gentleman who had the... more...

CHAPTER I. A POOR START. "Give it to him, Terry—that's the style!" "Punch his head!" "Hit him in the face, Mike!" "Good for you, Terry—that was a daisy!" "Stick to him, me hearty; ye'll lick him yet!" The shouts came from a ring of ragged, dirty youngsters, who were watching with intense excitement a hand-to-hand and foot-to-foot fight between two... more...

The early days of the literary career of Robert Louis Stevenson can hardly be said to have been entirely devoid of recognition, though it would appear doubtful if the world at large was willing to recognize his abilities had it not been for his wonderful personality; with a soul and an imagination far above those of his early associates he gradually drew around him the respect and admiration of that... more...

CHAPTER I The Colonel's House in Bedford Place The dinner was at the colonel's—an old-fashioned, partly furnished, two-story house nearly a century old which crouches down behind a larger and more modern dwelling fronting on Bedford Place within a stone's throw of the tall clock tower of Jefferson Market. The street entrance to this curious abode is marked by a swinging wooden gate... more...

OUT OF NO MAN'S LAND On the muddy verge of a shallow little pool the man lay prone and still, as still as those poor dead whose broken bodies rested all about him, where they had fallen, months or days, hours or weeks ago, in those grim contests which the quick were wont insensately to wage for a few charnel yards of that debatable ground. Alone of all that awful company this man lived and, though... more...

CHAPTER I. 'Lisbeth Lillibun lived a hundred miles from London. If she had not lived a hundred miles from London, it is likely you would never have heard of her. She would have liked it better had somebody else lived where she did instead of herself. 'Lisbeth was a very little girl when she found out that she lived a hundred miles from London. So was Dickon, her brother, very little when he... more...