Classics Books

CHAPTER I y chieftain ancestors had lived at Glandore for many centuries and were very well known. Hardly a ship could pass the Old Head of Kinsale without some boats putting off to exchange the time of day with her, and our family name was on men's tongues in half the seaports of Europe, I dare say. My ancestors lived in castles which were like churches stuck on end, and they drank the best of... more...

After awhile the blinding light was like actual physical pressure against his tightly squinched eyes. He tried to burrow deeper into the protectively warm, cave-like place where he'd been safe from them for so long. But he couldn't escape them. Their hands, their big, red, hideously smooth hands had him, now. They were tugging and pulling at him with a strength impossible to fight. Still he... more...

CHAPTER I Ah wuz a fiel' han' fo' Ah sailed de sea, Wisht Ah wuz a fiel' han' now. Dis konk'rin' hero business don' make no hit wid me— Wisht Ah wuz a fiel' han' now. "Gimme back a nickel! How come coffee ten cents? Gimme back 'at nickel befo' bofe ob us is on de same side ob de lunch counter." "You an' a policeman, you... more...

PREFACE As this Story is of a species which, though not new, is out of the common track, it has been thought necessary to point out some circumstances to the reader, which will elucidate the design, and, it is hoped, will induce him to form a favourable, as well as a right judgment of the work before him. This Story is the literary offspring of The Castle of Otranto, written upon the same plan, with a... more...

CHAPTER I. UNWILLING PASSENGERS. "What is your name, boy?" "Joe Curtis, sir." "And your number? " " Two hundred and ninety-seven." " Very well, now listen to what I say, and see that you do exactly as I tell you. I am going to Providence by the Sound steamer that sails in an hour and a half; take these tickets, go to the office of the boat, get the key of the... more...

THE GOLDEN PIPES They hung all bronzed and shining, on the side of Margath Mountain—the tall and perfect pipes of the organ which was played by some son of God when the world was young. At least Hepnon the cripple said this was so, when he was but a child, and when he got older he said that even now a golden music came from the pipes at sunrise and sunset. And no one laughed at Hepnon, for you could... more...

The Source of Perplexity The first and greatest of religious perplexities, the source of all the rest, arises in the mysterious fact of our existence as individual souls. Our perplexities spring from the very root of life. Why are we here at all? Did we but know the purpose for which we are present in the world, should we not have in our hands the key to all the questions we raise about God, freedom,... more...

DEDICATION My Dear Little, Some five-and-thirty years ago it was our custom to discuss many matters, among them, I think, the history and romance of the vanished Empires of Central America. In memory of those far-off days will you accept a tale that deals with one of them, that of the marvellous Incas of Peru; with the legend also that, long before the Spanish Conquerors entered on their mission of... more...

CHAPTER I INTRODUCTORY Those who desire to experiment on radio-photography, i.e. transmitting photographs, drawings, etc., from one place to another without the aid of artificial conductors, must cultivate at least an elementary knowledge of optics, chemistry, mechanics, and electricity; photo-telegraphy calling for a knowledge of all these sciences. There are, no doubt, many wireless workers who are... more...

CHAPTER I. Having little knowledge of rhetorical art, and possessing but a limited imagination, it is only a strong sense of the duty I owe to Science and the progressive minds of the age, that induces me to come before the public in the character of an author. True, I have only a simple narration of facts to deal with, and am, therefore, not expected to present artistic effects, and poetical imagery,... more...