Classics Books

CHAPTER I INTRODUCING THE PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS "If I'm not mistaken," said Calvin Parks, "this is the ro'd where Sam and Sim used to live!" He checked his horse and looked about him. "And there—well, I'm blowed if that ain't the house now. Same old pumpkin-color; same old well-sweep; same old trees; it certinly is the house. Well!" He looked earnestly at... more...

In the town of Roxbury, among the western Catskills, was born April 3, 1837, John Burroughs. The house in which he first saw the light was an unpainted, squarish structure, only a single story high, with a big chimney in the middle. This house was removed a few years later, and a better and somewhat larger one, which still stands, was built in its place. The situation is very pleasing. Roundabout is a... more...

he telephone wouldn't stop ringing. Over and over it buzzed into my sleep-fogged brain, and I couldn't shut it out. Finally, in self-defense I woke up, my hand groping for the receiver. "Hello. Who is it?" "It's me, Don. Jack Anderson, over at the factory. Can you come down right away?" His voice was breathless, as if he'd been running hard. "What's the... more...

INTRODUCTION There are many thrilling incidents—all the more attractive because of their truth—in the study, the trials, the disappointments, the obstacles overcome, and the final triumph of the successful inventor. Every great invention, afterward marvelled at, was first derided. Each great inventor, after solving problems in mechanics or chemistry, had to face the jeers of the incredulous. The... more...

The door-knob turned, then rattled. Dr. David Wong stepped out from behind the large bookcase, listening. He pressed the brass handle of the top shelf and the case silently pivoted back to become part of the wall, obliterating the dark passage behind it. An imperative knocking began at the door; David walked softly to his desk and picked up his notebook. He tried to remain relaxed, but he could feel... more...

CHAPTER I. The Widow and her Child.   On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. This person, whose age might be about forty, was attired in a brown double-breasted frieze... more...

THE LOST AGES.   My friends, have you read Elia? If so, follow me, walking in the shadow of his mild presence, while I recount to you my vision of the Lost Ages. I am neither single nor unblessed with offspring, yet, like Charles Lamb, I have had my 'dream-children.' Years have flown over me since I stood a bride at the altar. My eyes are dim and failing, and my hairs are silver-white. My... more...

THE WIFE OR THE WUDDY. “There was a criminal in a cartAgoing to be hanged—Reprieve to him was granted;The crowd and cart did stand,To see if he would marry a wife,Or, otherwise, choose to die!‘Oh, why should I torment my life?’The victim did reply;‘The bargain’s bad in every part—But a wife’s the worst!—drive on the cart.’” Honest Sir John Falstaff talketh of “minions of the... more...

THE DEPARTUREAmbrose Thompson opened his front door and looked out. It was May, the sun had just risen over Pennyroyal, and before him lay Kentucky's carnival of spring. The boy drew a deep breath that seemed to rise and quiver over his face like a breeze coming away at the end of his long, curiously emotional nose. "Glory, what a day!" he whispered; "seems about good enough to... more...

CHAPTER I THE BLACK PATCH Considering it was nearly the height of the London winter season, the Great Empire Hotel was not unusually crowded. This might perhaps have been owing to the fact that two or three of the finest suites of rooms in the building had been engaged by Mark Fenwick, who was popularly supposed to be the last thing in the way of American multi-millionaires. No one knew precisely who... more...