Classics Books

I The Story of the Little Red Sleigh It was in 1835, about mid-winter, when Brier Dale was a narrow clearing, and the horizon well up in the sky and to anywhere a day's journey. Down by the shore of the pond, there, Allen built his house. To-day, under thickets of tansy, one may see the rotting logs, and there are hollyhocks and catnip in the old garden. He was from Middlebury, they say, and came... more...

1 When Mr. Henley reached his dingy little house in Twentieth Street, a servant met him at the door with a letter, saying: "The postman has just left it, sir, and hopes it is right, as it has given him a lot of trouble." Mr. Henley examined the letter with curiosity. There were several erased addresses. The original was: "Mr. P. Henley, New York City." Scarcely legible, in the lower... more...

FOREWORD Jimmy Collins used periodically to try to change his name to Jim Collins, but he never could make it stick. There was something about him that made everybody call him Jimmy. He did sign his wonderful article in the Saturday Evening Post about dive testing “Jim Collins,” but his friends kidded him so much about wanting to be a “he-man” that he went back to Jimmy in his... more...

OF EARLSCOURT'S FIANCEE."To compass her with sweet observances,To dress her beautifully and keep her true." That, according to Mr. Tennyson's lately-published opinion, is the devoir of that deeply-to-be-pitied individual, l'homme marié. Possibly in the times of which the Idyls treat, Launcelot and Gunevere might have been the sole, exceptional mauvais sujets in the land, and... more...

WHAT DREAMS MAY COME. THE OVERTURE. Constantinople; the month of August; the early days of the century. It was the hour of the city's most perfect beauty. The sun was setting, and flung a mellowing glow over the great golden domes and minarets of the mosques, the bazaars glittering with trifles and precious with elements of Oriental luxury, the tortuous thoroughfares with their motley throng, the... more...

CHAPTER I I am about to take the back-trail through the Old West—the West that I knew and loved. All my life it has been a pleasure to show its beauties, its marvels and its possibilities to those who, under my guidance, saw it for the first time. Now, going back over the ground, looking at it through the eyes of memory, it will be a still greater pleasure to take with me the many readers of this... more...

CHAPTER I. My reasons for writing an autobiography.—That a man knows the history of his own life better than a biographer can know it.—Frankness and reserve.—The contemplation of death. My principal reasons for writing an autobiography are because I am the only person in the world who knows enough about my history to give a truthful account of it, and because I dread the possibility of falling... more...

Henry Seton Merriman published his first novel, "Young Mistley," in 1888, when he was twenty-six years old. Messrs. Bentley's reader, in his critique on the book, spoke of its "powerful situations" and unconventionality of treatment: and, while dwelling at much greater length on its failings, declared, in effect, its faults to be the right faults, and added that, if "Young... more...

CHAPTER I The butler made an instinctive movement to detain him, but he flung him aside and entered the drawing-room, the servant recovering his equilibrium and following on a run. Light from great crystal chandeliers dazzled him for a moment; the butler again confronted him but hesitated under the wicked glare from his eyes. Then through the brilliant vista, the young fellow caught a glimpse of a... more...

CHAPTER I A GLIMPSE AT THE PAST "Two wild turkeys and seven rabbits. Not such a bad haul after all, Henry." "That is true, Dave. But somehow I wanted to get a deer if I could." "Oh, I reckon almost any hunter would like to bring down a deer," went onDave Morris. "But they are not so plentiful as they were before the war." "That is true." Henry Morris placed the... more...