Classics Books

CHAPTER I JACK IN THE SADDLE "Your father is a little late to-night, isn't he Jack?" "Yes, Mrs. Watson, he should have been here a half-hour ago, and he would, too, if he had ridden Sunger instead of his own horse." "You think a lot of that pony of yours, don't you, Jack?" and a motherly-looking woman came to the doorway of a small cottage and peered up the mountain... more...

CHAPTER IJACK HARDING GETS A JOB"Look here, boy, can you hold my horse a few minutes?" asked a gentleman, as he jumped from his carriage in one of the lower streets in New York. The boy addressed was apparently about twelve, with a bright face and laughing eyes, but dressed in clothes of coarse material. This was Jack Harding, who is to be our hero. "Yes, sir," said Jack, with alacrity,... more...

CHAPTER I FUN AT WASHINGTON HALL "Now then, are you all ready?" inquired a voice in a hoarse whisper. "Galloping grasshoppers! We're as ready as we ever will be, JackRanger!" replied one from a crowd of boys gathered on the campus ofWashington Hall that evening in June. "Nat Anderson, if you speak again, above a whisper," said JackRanger, the leader, sternly, "you will... more...

A GREAT STREAK OF LUCK “Anybody home?” “Sure, walk right in, Toby. My latch-string is always out to my chums. I see you managed to pick up Steve on the way across; but I wager you had really to pry him loose from that dandy new volume on travel he was telling me about, because he’s such a bookworm.” The two boys who hastened to accept this warm invitation, and enter Jack Winters’ snug... more...

CHAPTER I Guardianship.The age of legal capability for the Roman woman was after the twelfth year, at which period she was permitted to make a will. However, she was by no means allowed to do so entirely on her own account, but only under supervision. This superintendence was vested in the father or, if he was dead, in a guardian; if the woman was married, the power belonged to the husband. The consent... more...

THE FATHER[1] By Björnstjerne Björnson (1838-1910) The man whose story is here to be told was the wealthiest and most influential person in his parish; his name was Thord Överaas. He appeared in the priest's study one day, tall and earnest. "I have gotten a son," said he, "and I wish to present him for baptism." "What shall his name be?" "Finn,—after my... more...

JIM WEEKS James Weeks came of a fighting stock. His great-grandfather, Ashbel Weeks, was born in Connecticut in 1748; he migrated to New York in '70, and settled among the Oneida Indians on the Upper Mohawk. It was the kind of life he was built for; he sniffed at danger like a young horse catching a breath off the meadows. He did not take the war fever until St. Leger came up the valley, when he... more...

CHAPTER I GRUELLING FOOTBALL PRACTICE A shrill whistle sounded over the field where almost two dozen sturdily built boys in their middle 'teens, clad in an astonishing array of old and new football togs, had been struggling furiously. Instantly the commotion ceased as if by magic at this intimation from the coach, who also acted in practice as referee and umpire combined, that the ball was to be... more...

CHAPTER I. THE FAIR OF BEAUCAIRE. There was magic, to my young ears, in the very name of the Fair of Beaucaire. Beaucaire is only ten miles from Nismes, therefore no wonder I heard plenty about it. It is true, that in my time, the world-famous fair did not exercise so vast an influence on commercial affairs In general, as in the old days, when it was the great market of France; and not only France, but... more...

Chapter I Henry Whitman was walking home from the shop in the April afternoon. The spring was very early that year. The meadows were quite green, and in the damp hollows the green assumed a violet tinge—sometimes from violets themselves, sometimes from the shadows. The trees already showed shadows as of a multitude of bird wings; the peach-trees stood aloof in rosy nimbuses, and the cherry-trees were... more...