Classics Books

Lines Sing on, sweet feathered warbler, sing!Mount higher on thy joyous wing,And let thy morning anthem ringFull on my ear;Thou art the only sign of springI see or hear. The earth is buried deep in snow;The muffled streams refuse to flow,The rattling mill can scarcely go,For ice and frost:The beauty of the vale belowIn death is lost. Save thine, no note of joy is heard—Thy kindred songsters of the... more...

On The Trail of Deserters. The year of 1871 had been so full of incidents and far reaching results for the Fourth Cavalry and its new Colonel, Ranald S. Mackenzie, that it is somewhat difficult to go back into the dim vistas of that period and select the one incident, or absorbing event which would be either of greatest magnitude or afford the most thrilling interest— This capture of ten deserters,... more...

"Jeff Blake!" Holly O'Toole's knotted hand reached out and grasped the right hand of the passenger descending from the rocket transport. "This is a hell of a night to come home, when a man's been away as long as you have." Jeff Blake laughed, and swung down to his side to stand on the wind- and rain-swept dock. He towered above O'Toole, lanky and smooth skinned. His... more...

1. First Day. Christ's Childhood. "Thy holy child Jesus."--Acts iv. 30. If I asked, "How old are you?" you would give an exact answer. "Eight and a half;" "Just turned ten;" "Eleven next month." Now you have thought of God's "holy child Jesus" as a little baby, and as twelve years old in the temple, but did you ever think of Him as being exactly... more...

Burke and Webster are models in the forensic literature of our own language as truly as are Demosthenes and Cicero in the language of the ancient classics. Each has distinct and inimitable characteristics which give force and beauty to his work. The study of each should be ordered in such a way as to put one in touch with those qualities of mind and heart, of intellectual and moral manhood, by which... more...

CHAPTER IA BORN SURGEON Dr. Fred Grant, recalled in haste from his daily round of professional visits by a telephone message from his nephew, leaped out of his carriage over the yet moving wheel, and, stuffing an open letter into his pocket, rushed up the walk and into his office, which occupied a wing of his commodious house. A sight met his eyes which was not uncommon, situated as he was in the midst... more...

CHAPTER I MASKED BATTERIES It was in the Théatre St. Philippe (they had laid a temporary floor over the parquette seats) in the city we now call New Orleans, in the month of September, and in the year 1803. Under the twinkle of numberless candles, and in a perfumed air thrilled with the wailing ecstasy of violins, the little Creole capital's proudest and best were offering up the first cool night... more...

The Columbian Abbey of Derry. One bright sunny day last summer I found myself in the city of Derry, with some hours to spare. I passed them in rambling aimlessly about whither fancy or accident led me,—now on the walls, endeavoring to recall the particulars of that siege so graphically described by Macaulay, now in the Protestant Cathedral musing on the proximity of luxuriously-cushioned pew and cold... more...

CHAPTER ITHE AFFAIR OF THE IVORY BOXES There was a substantial aspect about Blenheim Square, not of that monotonous type which characterizes so many London squares, but a certain grace and consciousness of well-being. The houses, though maintaining some uniformity, possessed individuality, and in the season were gay with window-boxes and flowers; the garden in the center was not too stereotyped in its... more...

WAYEESES THE STRONG ONE The Old Wolf's Challenge We were beating up the Straits to the Labrador when a great gale swooped down on us and drove us like a scared wild duck into a cleft in the mountains, where the breakers roared and the seals barked on the black rocks and the reefs bared their teeth on either side, like the long jaws of a wolf, to snap at us as we passed. In our flight we had picked... more...