Classics Books

1. The Dread Paralysis A weird and uncanny tale about a strange criminal who called himself Doctor Satan, and the terrible doom with which he struck down his enemiesOn one of the most beautiful bays of the Maine coast rested the town that fourteen months before had existed only on an architect's drawing-board. Around the almost landlocked harbor were beautiful homes, bathing-beaches, parks. On the... more...

I "Yes, I'm shif'less. I'm gen'ally considered shif'less," said William Benslow. He spoke in a tone of satisfaction, and hitched his trousers skilfully into place by their one suspender. His companion shifted his easel a little, squinting across the harbor at the changing light. There was a mysterious green in the water that he failed to find in his color-box. William... more...

INTRODUCTION.  North American thrushes (Turdidæ) constitute a small but interesting group of birds, most of which are of retiring habits but noted as songsters. They consist of the birds commonly known as thrushes, robins, bluebirds, Townsend's solitaire, and the wheatears. The red-winged thrush of Europe (Turdus musicus) is accidental in Greenland, and the wheatears (Saxicola œnanthe subspp.)... more...

THE GRAY MAHATMA Meldrum Strange has "a way" with him. You need all your tact to get him past the quarreling point; but once that point is left behind there isn't a finer business boss in the universe. He likes to put his ringer on a desk-bell and feel somebody jump in Tibet or Wei-hei-wei or Honolulu. That's Meldrum Strange. When he sent me from San Francisco, where I was enjoying a... more...

CLAY'S. The summer sun streamed meltingly down on the asphalted siding of the country railway station and occasioned the usual grumbling from the passengers alighting from the afternoon express. There were only three who effect this narrative—a huge, red-faced, barrel-like figure that might have served to erect as a monument to the over-feeding in vogue in this era; a tall, spare, old fellow... more...

ADDRESS. Gentlemen: In a country like ours, whose institutions rest on the popular will, we must rely for our social and literary means and honors, exclusively on personal exertions, springing from the bosom of society. We have no external helps and reliances, sealed in expectations of public patronage, held by the hands of executive, or ministerial power. Our ancestors, it is true, were accustomed to... more...

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THE SEWING SOCIETY. I am thinking of a little brown house, somewhere in the wilds of New England. I wish I could make my readers see it as it was, one June afternoon some years ago. Not for anything very remarkable about it; there are thousands of such houses scattered among our hills and valleys; nevertheless one understands any life story the better for knowing amid what sort of scenes it was... more...

"DE HINE FOOT ER A HE FRAWG" Toward the close of an early summer afternoon, a little girl came running along the turnpike to where a boy stood wriggling his feet in the dust. "Old Aunt Ailsey's done come back," she panted, "an' she's conjured the tails off Sambo's sheep. I saw 'em hanging on her door!" The boy received the news with an indifference from... more...