Classics Books

CHAPTER I Something about my Home and Track’s End: with how I leave the one and get acquainted with Pike at the other. When I left home to shift for myself I was eighteen years old, and, I suppose, no weakling; though it seems to me now that I was a mere boy. I liked school well enough, but rather preferred horses; and a pen seems to me a small thing for a grown man, which I am now, to be fooling... more...

CHAPTER I. The Dead City The city without life lay handsomely along a river in the early sunlight of a September morning. Death had seemingly not been long upon it, nor had it made any scar. No breach or rent or disorder or sign of violence could be seen. The long, shaded streets breathed the still airs of utter peace and quiet. From the half-circle around which the broad river bent its moody current,... more...

THE LIFE OF AKENSIDE. Mark Akenside was born at Newcastle-upon-Tyne on the 9th of November 1721. His family were Presbyterian Dissenters, and on the 30th of that month he was baptized in the meeting, then held in Hanover Square, by a Mr. Benjamin Bennet. His father, Mark, was a butcher in respectable circumstances—his mother's name was Mary Lumsden. There may seem something grotesque in finding... more...

The Indians were formerly lords of the soil we now occupy, and obtained a subsistence principally by hunting and fishing. They generally lived in villages, containing from fifty to five hundred families. Their houses, called wigwams, were usually constructed of poles, one end being driven into the ground, and the other bent over so as to meet another fastened in like manner; both being joined together... more...

PRELUDE   Long, long ago when castles grim did frown,  When massy wall and gate did 'fend each town;  When mighty lords in armour bright were seen,  And stealthy outlaws lurked amid the green  And oft were hanged for poaching of the deer,  Or, gasping, died upon a hunting spear;  When barons bold did on their rights insist  And hanged or burned all rogues who dared resist;  When... more...

CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY. A successful scout, or spy, is like a great poet in one respect: he is born, not made—subject to the requisition of the military genius of the time. That I was not born to be hanged is a self-evident proposition. Whether I was a successful scout or not, the reader of these pages must determine. It was my good fortune to have first seen the light under the shadow of one of... more...

THE PRINCESS OF QULZUM (BALLADE BY NUR UDDIN) I have seen a small proud face brimming with sunlight;I have seen the daughter of the King of Qulzum passing from grace to grace.Yesterday she threw her bed on the floor of her double houseAnd laughed with a thousand graces.She has a little pearl and coral capAnd rides in a palanquin with servants about herAnd claps her hands, being too proud to call.I have... more...

THE SONG OF DEIRDRA Farewell, grey Albyn, much loved land,   I ne’er shall see thy hills again;Upon those hills I oft would stand   And view the chase sweep o’er the plain. ’Twas pleasant from their tops I ween   To see the stag that bounding ran;And all the rout of hunters keen,   The sons of Usna in the van. The chiefs of Albyn feasted high,   Amidst them Usna’s children shone;And... more...

CHAPTER I. [Bill o’th Hoylus End might be termed a local Will-o’th-Wisp. He has been everything by turns, and nothing long. Now, a lean faced lad, “a mere anatomy, a mountebank, a thread bare juggler, a needy, hollow-ey’d, sharp looking wretch;” now acting the pert, bragging youth, telling quaint stories, and up to a thousand raw tricks; now tumbling and adventuring into manhood with yet the... more...

FROM DANE KEMPTON TO HERBERT WACE London,        3 a Queen's Road, Chelsea, S.W.August 14, 19—.     Yesterday I wrote formally, rising to the occasion like the conventional happy father rather than the man who believes in the miracle and lives for it. Yesterday I stinted myself. I took you in my arms, glad of what is and stately with respect for the fulness of your manhood. It is... more...