Classics Books

CHAPTER I. THE FLYING SQUIRREL—ITS FOOD—STORY OF A WOLF—INDIAN VILLAGE—WILD RICE. "Nurse, what is the name of that pretty creature you have in your hand? What bright eyes it has! What a soft tail, just like a grey feather! Is it a little beaver?" asked the Governor's [Footnote: Lady Mary's father was Governor of Canada.] little daughter, as her nurse came into the room where... more...

CHAPTER I. UNCLE JOHN'S FARM. "How did I happen to own a farm?" asked Uncle John, interrupting his soup long enough to fix an inquiring glance upon Major Doyle, who sat opposite. "By virtue of circumstance, my dear sir," replied the Major, composedly. "It's a part of my duty, in attending to those affairs you won't look afther yourself, to lend certain sums of your... more...

THE CASTLE OF VAUTSBERG ON THE RHINE. A chamber in a tower. PRINCE HENRY, sitting alone, ill and restless.  Prince Henry. I cannot sleep! my fervid brainCalls up the vanished Past again,And throws its misty splendors deepInto the pallid realms of sleep!A breath from that far-distant shoreComes freshening ever more and more,And wafts o'er intervening seasSweet odors from the Hesperides!A wind,... more...

"The black-eyed Judith, fair and tall,Attracted the heir of Riccon Hall.For years and years was Judith known,Queen of a wild world all her own;By Wooler Haugh, by silver Till,By Coldstream Bridge, and Flodden Hill:Until, at length, one morn, when sleetHung frozen round the traveller's feet,By a grey ruin on Tweedside,The creature laid her down and died."—Border Ballad. More than three... more...

CHAPTER I. It was a bright day in the early spring of 1869. All Paris seemed to have turned out to enjoy itself. The Tuileries, the Champs Elysees, the Bois de Boulogne, swarmed with idlers. A stranger might have wondered where Toil was at work, and in what nook Poverty lurked concealed. A millionaire from the London Exchange, as he looked round on the magasins, the equipages, the dresses of the women;... more...

THE ADVENTURE OF THE HERALD PERSONAL That I was in a hard case is best attested by the fact that when I had paid for my Sunday Herald there was left in my purse just one tuppence-ha'penny stamp and two copper cents, one dated 1873, the other 1894. The mere incident that at this hour eighteen months later I can recall the dates of these coins should be proof, if any were needed, of the importance... more...

ADMONITIONSto theDISSIPATED.   Excess to mankind oft’times brings,Remorse with all its bitter stings;When cares oppress us in this life.At times we drink to banish strife;But when its feeble aid is o’er,We are more wretched then before.Oft poverty the man disgrace,And shows a drunkard in his face;Suppose he is a man of wealth,Excess of liquor injures health;Not only health but sad to name,Such... more...

CHAPTER I On a certain island in the Paumotu Group, known on the charts as Chain Island, but called Anaa by the people themselves, lived a white man named Martin Flemming, one of those restless wanderers who range the Pacific in search of the fortune they always mean to gain, but which never comes to them, except in some few instances—so few that they might be counted on one's fingers. Two years... more...

We spend too much time in longing for the things that are far off and too little in the enjoyment of the things that are near at hand. We live too much in dreams and too little in realities. We cherish too many impossible projects of setting worlds in order, which are bound to fail. We consider too little plans for putting our own households in order, which might easily be made to succeed. A large part... more...

In this age we read so much that we lay too great a burden on the imagination. It is unable to create images which are the spiritual equivalent of the words on the printed page, and reading becomes for too many an occupation of the eye rather than of the mind. How rarely—out of the multitude of volumes a man reads in his lifetime—can he remember where or when he read any particular book, or with... more...