Classics Books

Eustace's career—if career it can be called—certainly dates from that afternoon in the chestnut woods above Ravello. I confess at once that I am a plain, simple man, with no pretensions to literary style. Still, I do flatter myself that I can tell a story without exaggerating, and I have therefore decided to give an unbiassed account of the extraordinary events of eight years ago. Ravello is a... more...

May it please Your Majesty, To permit me to lay at your Feet the following Sheets, published with a View to be useful to those, who hereafter may have the Care of the Health of your Majesty’s Troops. Your Majesty’s particular Inquiries into the State of Your Military Hospitals, in every Quarter of the World, in the Time of the late glorious and successful War; Your Concern for every Officer and... more...

FOREWORD Dear Geoffrey Whitworth,—Considering for how many ages how many clever people have been complaining of their publishers, you might have supposed that no device for getting one of them into a scrape could have been left untried. Yet, so far as I can remember, no author has had the bright idea of denouncing his publisher, particularly, and by name, as accessory before the fact. I am willing to... more...

Mrs. Eustace Greyne (pronounced Green) wrinkled her forehead—that noble, that startling forehead which had been written about in the newspapers of two hemispheres—laid down her American Squeezer pen, and sighed. It was an autumn day, nipping and melancholy, full of the rustle of dying leaves and the faint sound of muffin bells, and Belgrave Square looked sad even to the great female novelist who... more...

5th July As I left the Palais-Bourbon at five o'clock that afternoon, it rejoiced my heart to breathe in the sunny air. The sky was bland, the river gleamed, the foliage was fresh and green. Everything seemed to whisper an invitation to idleness. Along the Pont de la Concorde, in the direction of the Champs-Elysées, victorias and landaus kept rolling by. In the shadow of the lowered... more...

Chapter I At half-past six o'clock on Sunday night Barnabas came out of his bedroom. The Thayer house was only one story high, and there were no chambers. A number of little bedrooms were clustered around the three square rooms—the north and south parlors, and the great kitchen. Barnabas walked out of his bedroom straight into the kitchen where the other members of the family were. They sat... more...

AN OLD HOUSE At her desk in the assembly room of Riverview High School, Penny Parker sat poised for instant flight. Her books had been stacked away, and she awaited only the closing bell to liberate her from a day of study. “Now don’t forget!” she whispered to her chum, Louise Sidell, who occupied the desk directly behind. “We start for the old Marborough place right away!” The dismissal bell... more...

THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS   Truth fails not, but her outward forms that bear  The longest date do melt like frosty rime. I The fourth Christian century was far past its meridian, when, high above the summit of the supreme peak of Caucasus, a magnificent eagle came sailing on broad fans into the blue, and his shadow skimmed the glittering snow as it had done day by day for thousands of years. A human... more...

DIALOGUE I. SCENE. The road-side on the slope of a wooded hill near Fort Edward. The speakers, two young soldiers,—Students in arms. 1st Student. These were the evenings last year, when the bellFrom the old college tower, would find us stillUnder the shady elms, with sauntering stepAnd book in hand, or on the dark grass stretched,Or lounging on the fence, with skyward gazeAmid the sunset warble. Ah!... more...

CHAPTER IHER MISSION IN LIFE Obadiah Dale was the richest man in South Ridgefield. He owned the great textile mill down by the river where hundreds of people were employed and which hummed and clattered from morning until night to add to his wealth. He lived in a fine house. About it, broad lawns, shaded by ancient elms and dotted with groups of shrubbery, formed a verdant setting for the walls and... more...