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Classics Books
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by:
Carolyn Wells
CHAPTER I VICKY VAN Victoria Van Allen was the name she signed to her letters and to her cheques, but Vicky Van, as her friends called her, was signed all over her captivating personality, from the top of her dainty, tossing head to the tips of her dainty, dancing feet. I liked her from the first, and if her "small and earlies" were said to be so called because they were timed by the small and...
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THE MEETIN' Now is it to be rain or a storm of wind at the Basin? I love that foam out on the sea; those boulders, black and wet along the shore, they are a rest to me; the clouds chase one another; in this dim north country the wind is cool and strong, though it is now midsummer; at sunset you shall see such color! From a little, low, storm-beaten building comes the sound of a fog-horn. That is...
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PART I Lays of fair dames of lofty birth, And golden hair alt richly curled;Of knights that venture life for love, Suit poets of the older world.We wilt not fill our simple rhymes, With diamond flash, or gleaming pearl;In singing of the by-gone times;We simply sing the love and faith,Outliving absence, strong as death,Of one Jow-born Canadian girl. 'Twas long ago the rapid spring Had...
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by:
Henry Wood
CHAPTER I. RACHEL FROST. The slanting rays of the afternoon sun, drawing towards the horizon, fell on a fair scene of country life; flickering through the young foliage of the oak and lime trees, touching the budding hedges, resting on the growing grass, all so lovely in their early green, and lighting up with flashes of yellow fire the windows of the fine mansion, that, rising on a gentle eminence,...
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by:
Tenney Frank
I MANTUA DIVES AVIS Among biographical commonplaces one frequently finds the generalization that it is the provincial who acquires the perspective requisite for a true estimate of a nation, and that it is the country-boy reared in lonely communion with himself who attains the deepest knowledge of human nature. If there be some degree of truth in this reflection, Publius Vergilius Maro, the...
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When the doctor had gone, and the two women from the village he had been waiting for were upstairs shut in with her dead father, Lucy went out into the garden and stood leaning on the gate staring at the sea. Her father had died at nine o'clock that morning, and it was now twelve. The sun beat on her bare head; and the burnt-up grass along the top of the cliff, and the dusty road that passed the...
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by:
Thomas Otway
VENICE PRESERVED. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. A STREET IN VENICE.Enter Priuli and Jaffier.Pri.No more! I'll hear no more! Be gone and leave me.Jaf.Not hear me! By my suffering, but you shall!My lord, my lord! I'm not that abject wretchYou think me. Patience! where's the distance throwsMe back so far, but I may boldly speakIn right, though proud oppression will not hear me?Pri.Have you not...
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CHAPTER I. VENICE IN VENICE. One night at the little theatre in Padua, the ticket-seller gave us the stage-box (of which he made a great merit), and so we saw the play and the byplay. The prompter, as noted from our point of view, bore a chief part in the drama (as indeed the prompter always does in the Italian theatre), and the scene-shifters appeared as prominent characters. We could not help seeing...
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CHAPTER I. Some ten years before the revolt of our American colonies, there was situate in one of our midland counties, on the borders of an extensive forest, an ancient hall that belonged to the Herberts, but which, though ever well preserved, had not until that period been visited by any member of the family, since the exile of the Stuarts. It was an edifice of considerable size, built of grey stone,...
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by:
Marie Corelli
CHAPTER I. I, who write this, am a dead man. Dead legally—dead by absolute proofs—dead and buried! Ask for me in my native city and they will tell you I was one of the victims of the cholera that ravaged Naples in 1884, and that my mortal remains lie moldering in the funeral vault of my ancestors. Yet—I live! I feel the warm blood coursing through my veins—the blood of thirty summers—the...
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