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Classics Books
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by:
Fox B. Holden
Mason was nervous. It was the nervousness of cold apprehension, not simply that which had become indigenous to his high-strung make-up. He was, in his way, afraid; afraid that he'd again come up with a wrong answer. He'd brought the tiny Scout too close to the Rim. Facing the facts squarely, he knew, even as he fingered the stud that would wrench them out of their R-curve, that he'd not...
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Alice Henry
THE TRADE UNION WOMAN I EARLY TRADE UNIONS AMONG WOMEN 1825-1840 The earliest factory employment to engage large numbers of women was the cotton industry of New England, and the mill hands of that day seem to have been entirely native-born Americans. The first power loom was set up in Waltham, Massachusetts, in 1814, and the name of the young woman weaver who operated it was Deborah Skinner. In 1817...
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by:
Gilbert Parker
INTRODUCTION In one sense this book stands by itself. It is like nothing else I have written, and if one should seek to give it the name of a class, it might be called an historical fantasy. It followed The Trail of the Sword and preceded The Seats of the Mighty, and appeared in the summer of 1895. The critics gave it a reception which was extremely gratifying, because, as it seemed to me, they...
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Lewis Carroll
CANTO I. The Trystyng.One winter night, at half-past nine,Cold, tired, and cross, and muddy,I had come home, too late to dine,And supper, with cigars and wine,Was waiting in the study. There was a strangeness in the room,And Something white and wavyWas standing near me in the gloom— Itook it for the carpet-broomLeft by that careless slavey. But presently the Thing beganTo shiver and to sneeze:On...
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Max Brand
CHAPTER 1 It seemed that Father Anthony gathered all the warmth of the short northern summer and kept it for winter use, for his good nature was an actual physical force. From his ruddy face beamed such a kindliness that people reached out toward him as they might extend their hands toward a comfortable fire. All the labors of his work as an inspector of Jesuit institutions across the length and...
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Cyrus Cuneo
Out of Paradise f I must tell more tales of Raffles, I can but go back to our earliest days together, and fill in the blanks left by discretion in existing annals. In so doing I may indeed fill some small part of an infinitely greater blank, across which you may conceive me to have stretched my canvas for the first frank portrait of my friend. The whole truth cannot harm him now. I shall paint in every...
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Wilkie Collins
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT, By Robert Louis Stevenson It was late in November, 1456. The snow fell over Paris with rigorous, relentless persistence; sometimes the wind made a sally and scattered it in flying vortices; sometimes there was a lull, and flake after flake descended out of the black night air, silent, circuitous, interminable. To poor people, looking up under moist eyebrows, it seemed a wonder...
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Robert Chambers
PROSAIC SPIRIT OF THE AGE. There are some phrases that convey only a vague and indefinite meaning, that make an impression upon the mind so faint as to be scarcely resolvable into shape or character. Being associated, however, with the feeling of beauty or enjoyment, they are ever on our lips, and pass current in conversation at a conventional value. Of these phrases is the 'poetry of...
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by:
John Russell
THE FOURTH MAN The raft might have been taken for a swath of cut sedge or a drifting tangle of roots as it slid out of the shadowy river mouth at dawn and dipped into the first ground swell. But while the sky brightened and the breeze came fresh offshore it picked a way among shoals and swampy islets with purpose and direction, and when at last the sun leaped up and cleared his bright eye of the...
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SHOEING THE BAY MARE Original Picture: National Gallery, London, England. Artist: Sir Edwin Landseer (lÃÆnd´´sÃâr). Birthplace: London, England. Dates: Born, 1802; died, 1873. Questions to arouse interest. What is the man in this picture doing? How many have watched a blacksmith shoe a horse? Why does he wear an apron made of leather? From what do the sparks fly?...
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