Classics Books

OURSELVES I'm Jack. I've always been Jack, ever since I can remember at least, though I suppose I must have been called 'Baby' for a bit before Serena came. But she's only a year and a half younger than me, and Maud's only a year and a quarter behind her, so I can scarcely remember even Serena being 'Baby'; and Maud's always been so very grown up for her age... more...

Incidental to studies of speciation of North American mammals, made possible by assistance from the National Science Foundation and the Kansas University Endowment Association, a number of bats have been taken beyond the limits of their previously known geographic ranges. Pending the completion of more detailed faunal accounts, these notes are published so that the distributional records will be... more...

I VANISHING ROADS   Though actually the work of man's hands—or, more properly speaking, the work of his travelling feet,—roads have long since come to seem so much a part of Nature that we have grown to think of them as a feature of the landscape no less natural than rocks and trees. Nature has adopted them among her own works, and the road that mounts the hill to meet the sky-line, or winds... more...

The Perfect Face. The Graces, on a summer day, Grew serious for a moment; yea, They thought in rivalry to trace The outline of a perfect face. Each used a rosebud for a brush, And, while it glowed with sunset's blush, Each painted on the evening sky, And each a star used for the eye. They finished. Each a curtaining cloud Drew back, and each exclaimed aloud: "Behold, we three have drawn the... more...

THE TSAREVNA FROG   In an old, old Russian , I do not know when, there lived a sovereign prince with the princess his wife. They had three sons, all of them young, and such brave fellows that no pen could describe them. The youngest had the name of Ivan . One day their father said to his sons: "My dear boys, take each of you an arrow, draw your strong bow and let your arrow fly; in whatever court... more...

THE WAY OF IT Patsy O’Connell sat on the edge of her cot in the women’s free ward of the City Hospital. She was pulling on a vagabond pair of gloves while she mentally gathered up a somewhat doubtful, ragged lot of prospects and stood them in a row before her for contemplation, comparison, and a final choice. They strongly resembled the contents of her steamer trunk, held at a respectable... more...

THE PASTORAL BEES The honey-bee goes forth from the hive in spring like the dove from Noah's ark, and it is not till after many days that she brings back the olive leaf, which in this case is a pellet of golden pollen upon each hip, usually obtained from the alder or the swamp willow. In a country where maple sugar is made the bees get their first taste of sweet from the sap as it flows from the... more...

ACTUS PRIMUS. SCENA PRIMA. Enter a Merchant and Herman. Mer. Is he then taken? Her. And brought back even now, Sir. Mer. He was not in disgrace? Her. No man more lov'd, Nor more deserv'd it, being the only man That durst be honest in this Court. Mer. IndeedWe have heard abroad, Sir, that the State hath sufferedA great change, since the Countesses death. Her. It hath, Sir. Mer. My five years... more...

CHAPTER I. “He has come to ope the purple testament of war.” —Richard II It was the 7th of August, 1812, when Winnebeg, the confidential Indian messenger of Captain Headley, commanding Fort Dearborn, suddenly made his appearance within the stockade. With a countenance on which was depicted more of the seriousness and concern than usually attach to his race, he requested the officer of the guard,... more...

PART ONE - PROPINQUITY   "A singer, eh?… Well, well! but when he sings  Take jealous heed lest idiosyncrasies  Entinge and taint too deep his melodies;  See that his lute has no discordant strings  To harrow us; and let his vaporings  Be all of virtue and its victories,  And of man's best and noblest qualities,  And scenery, and flowers, and similar things.... more...