Classics Books

INTRODUCTION. The Ion is the shortest, or nearly the shortest, of all the writings which bear the name of Plato, and is not authenticated by any early external testimony. The grace and beauty of this little work supply the only, and perhaps a sufficient, proof of its genuineness. The plan is simple; the dramatic interest consists entirely in the contrast between the irony of Socrates and the... more...

THE POETRY OF MADISON CAWEIN When a poet begins writing, and we begin liking his work, we own willingly enough that we have not, and cannot have, got the compass of his talent. We must wait till he has written more, and we have learned to like him more, and even then we should hesitate his definition, from all that he has done, if we did not very commonly qualify ourselves from the latest thing he has... more...

PREFACE The Admirable Bashville is a product of the British law of copyright. As that law stands at present, the first person who patches up a stage version of a novel, however worthless and absurd that version may be, and has it read by himself and a few confederates to another confederate who has paid for admission in a hall licensed for theatrical performances, secures the stage rights of that... more...

"WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY" A young woman was crying bitterly in the waiting-room of the railway station at Upper Asquewan Falls, New York. A beautiful young woman? That is exactly what Billy Magee wanted to know as, closing the waiting-room door behind him, he stood staring just inside. Were the features against which that frail bit of cambric was agonizingly pressed of a pleasing contour? The... more...

In the surgical ward of the Hope Hospital at Hanaford, a nurse was bending over a young man whose bandaged right hand and arm lay stretched along the bed. His head stirred uneasily, and slipping her arm behind him she effected a professional readjustment of the pillows. "Is that better?" As she leaned over, he lifted his anxious bewildered eyes, deep-sunk under ridges of suffering. "I... more...

FAIRY PRINCE In my father's house were many fancies. Always, for instance, on every Thanksgiving Day it was the custom in our family to bud the Christmas tree. Young Derry Willard came from Cuba. His father and our father had been chums together at college. None of us had ever seen him before. We were very much excited to have a strange young man invited for Thanksgiving dinner. My sister Rosalee... more...

FELICITY "Hallo, Greenstock! Lady Chetwode in?" "Her ladyship is not at home, sir. But she is sure to see you, Master Savile," said the butler, with a sudden and depressing change of manner, from correct impassibility to the conventional familiarity of a patronising old retainer. "Dressing, eh? You look all right Greenstock." "Well, I am well, and I am not well, Master... more...

Chapter I Like most other children, who should be my godfather is decided by Mammon—So precocious as to make some noise in the world and be hung a few days after I was born—Cut down in time and produce a scene of bloodshed—My early propensities fully developed by the choice of my profession Those who may be pleased to honour these pages with a perusal, will not be detained with a long... more...

CHAPTER I."BEAUBASSIN MUST GO!"On the hill of Beauséjour, one April morning in the year 1750 A.D., a little group of French soldiers stood watching, with gestures of anger and alarm, the approach of several small ships across the yellow waters of Chignecto Bay. The ships were flying British colors. Presently they came to anchor near the mouth of the Missaguash, a narrow tidal river about two... more...

"I used to do a turn in the army. I was really mad back then… [a] loony! I'd never have any music to introduce me, which was a big deal. Unheard of. I'd hop out on to the stage. It used to take ages. Hop, hop, hop. As I got nearer to the microphone, they'd hear this doddery voice going 'Do do do… do do do.' When I'd eventually make it to the microphone I'd... more...