Classics Books

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS It was the schooner Hesperus,  That sailed the wintry sea;And the skipper had taken his little daughter,  To bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,  Her cheeks like the dawn of day,And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,  That ope in the month of May. The skipper he stood beside the helm,  His pipe was in his mouth,And he watched how the veering... more...

CHAPTER I. THE BUILDING OF THE ABBEY. Twelve hundred years ago, in the reign of King Sebert the Saxon, a poor fisherman called Edric, was casting his nets one Sunday night into the Thames. He lived on the Isle of Thorns, a dry spot in the marshes, some three miles up the river from the Roman fortress of London. The silvery Thames washed against the island's gravelly shores. It was covered with... more...

INTRODUCTION I think that a book like the following, which deals with a subject so great and so mysterious as our hope of immortality, by means of an allegory or fantasy, needs a few words of preface, in order to clear away at the outset any misunderstandings which may possibly arise in a reader's mind. Nothing is further from my wish than to attempt any philosophical or ontological exposition of... more...

CHAPTER I. THE PROBLEM OF THE CHILDREN The problem of the children is the problem of the State. As we mould the children of the toiling masses in our cities, so we shape the destiny of the State which they will rule in their turn, taking the reins from our hands. In proportion as we neglect or pass them by, the blame for bad government to come rests upon us. The cities long since held the balance of... more...

SEND ROUND THE HAT Now this is the creed from the Book of the Bush—Should be simple and plain to a dunce:"If a man's in a hole you must pass round the hatWere he jail-bird or gentleman once." "Is it any harm to wake yer?" It was about nine o'clock in the morning, and, though it was Sunday morning, it was no harm to wake me; but the shearer had mistaken me for a deaf... more...

PROEM. Not here in our London Ghetto the gates and gaberdines of the olden Ghetto of the Eternal City; yet no lack of signs external by which one may know it, and those who dwell therein. Its narrow streets have no specialty of architecture; its dirt is not picturesque. It is no longer the stage for the high-buskined tragedy of massacre and martyrdom; only for the obscurer, deeper tragedy that evolves... more...

CHAPTER I A MISHAP AND ITS CONSEQUENCES "Will you please let me have two cream cakes?" The young woman behind the counter of the small bakery glanced kindly at the maker of this request, a little girl in a rather neat-looking dress, with a dark, earnest face and a pair of big, solemn brown eyes. "They're nice and fresh to-day," she remarked pleasantly; "they came out of the... more...

CHILD MAIDELVOLD. The fair Sidselil, of all maidens the flower,With her mother the Queen sat at work in her bower. So hard at the woof the fair Sidselil plies,That out from her bosom, so white, the milk flies. “Now hear thou, O Sidselil, child of my heart,What causes the milk from thy bosom to start?” “O that is not milk, my dear mother, I vow,It is but the mead I was drinking just now.”... more...

CHAPTER I. A few years ago, in the Dorotheen-strasse, in the midst of the Latin Quarter of Berlin, whose quiet, student-like appearance threatens to become effaced by the growing elegance of the capital, a small, narrow, unpretending two-story house, stood humbly, as if intimidated, between its broad-shouldered neighbors, though every year it received a washing of a delicate pink hue, and recently had... more...

CHAPTER I. Lay your course south-east half east from the Campanella. If the weather is what it should be in late summer you will have a fresh breeze on the starboard quarter from ten in the morning till four or five o'clock in the afternoon. Sail straight across the wide gulf of Salerno, and when you are over give the Licosa Point a wide berth, for the water is shallow and there are reefs along... more...