Classics Books

CHAPTER I THE DAY BEFORE It was the last day of February, the extra day, dead still, and biting cold, with thick, lead-colored skies shading down to inky blue at the western horizon. In the ravine below John Watson's house trees cracked ominously in the frost, and not even a rabbit was stirring. The hens had not come out, though an open door had extended an invitation, and the tamworths had... more...

THE WOMAN OF STONE. Lurine, was pretty, petite, and eighteen. She had a nice situation at the Pharmacie de Siam, in the Rue St. Honoré. She had no one dependent upon her, and all the money she earned was her own. Her dress was of cheap material perhaps, but it was cut and fitted with that daintiness of perfection which seems to be the natural gift of the Parisienne, so that one never thought of the... more...

When Walter left his uncle, he hurried, scarcely conscious of his steps, towards his favourite haunt by the water-side. From a child, he had singled out that scene as the witness of his early sorrows or boyish schemes; and still, the solitude of the place cherished the habit of his boyhood. Long had he, unknown to himself, nourished an attachment to his beautiful cousin; nor did he awaken to the secret... more...

CHAPTER IThe Lady in the Stage Box "Hullo, old chap! Who would ever have thought of seeing you here to-night? What's brought you back to civilisation again?" I turned suddenly, surprised by the sound of a familiar voice in my ear. It was the night of Christmas Eve, and I was just entering the lobby of the St. James's, the first time, as it happened, I had seen the inside of a theatre... more...

PART I—BOOK I THE MASTERPIECE On marriage and at what age young men and virgins are capable of it: and why so much desire it. Also, how long men and women are capable of it. There are very few, except some professional debauchees, who will not readily agree that "Marriage is honourable to all," being ordained by Heaven in Paradise; and without which no man or woman can be in a capacity,... more...

When William Wetherell and Cynthia had reached the last turn in the road in Northcutt's woods, quarter of a mile from Coniston, they met the nasal Mr. Samuel Price driving silently in the other direction. The word "silently" is used deliberately, because to Mr. Price appertained a certain ghostlike quality of flitting, and to Mr. Price's horse and wagon likewise. He drew up for a... more...

THE BLACKBERRY GIRL. PART I. "Why, Phebe, are you come so soon,  Where are your berries, child?You cannot, sure, have sold them all,  You had a basket pil'd." "No, mother, as I climb'd the fence,  The nearest way to town,My apron caught upon a stake,  And so I tumbled down." "I scratched my arm, and tore my hair,  But still did not complain;And had my... more...

In a provincial town of northern Germany there is a street in which the ancient, high-gabled houses bear, inscribed in Gothic letters, upon the lintels of their doors or upon little sandstone tablets, such honorable or fanciful names as "The Good Shepherd," "Noah's Dove," "The Palms of Peace," "The Rose of Sharon," and underneath, the date of their erection. In... more...

CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY. I think that is the way my father would begin. My name is Ethelwyn Percivale, and used to be Ethelwyn Walton. I always put the Walton in between when I write to my father; for I think it is quite enough to have to leave father and mother behind for a husband, without leaving their name behind you also. I am fond of lumber-rooms, and in some houses consider them far the most... more...

Perhaps this story does not belong with my other tales of the Special Patrol Service. And yet, there is, or should be, a report somewhere in the musty archives of the Service, covering the incident. Not accurately, and not in detail. Among a great mass of old records which I was browsing through the other day, I happened across that report; it occupied exactly three lines in the log-book of the Ertak:... more...