Classics Books

CHAPTER I. THE BOY IN THE STRAW HAT. "How's craps, Country?" "Shut up, Bart! he may hear you." "What if he does, ninny? I want him to. Say, Spinach!" "Do you suppose he's going to try and play football, Bart?" "Not he. He's looking for a rake. Thinks this is a hayfield, Wall." The speakers were lying on the turf back of the north goal on the campus... more...

THOMAS WILSON. Eloquence first given by GOD, after lost by man, and last repaired by GOD again. [The Art of Rhetoric.] Man in whom is poured the breath of life, was made at his first being an everlasting creature, unto the likeness of GOD; endued with reason, and appointed lord over all other things living. But after the fail of our first father, sin so crept in that our knowledge was much darkened,... more...

IN WHICH I SLIP Sultan was a horse for a man, long and regular in his stride, perfect in action, quick to obey, cat-like at need. I might have ridden him from the day on which the blacksmith drank his colt-ale, for we understood each other exactly, and I was as comfortable on his back as in my bed at the Hanyards. In the open road at the mere-end, he settled down into a steady, loping trot, and I was... more...

CHAPTER I. In which the Reader is introduced to a Family of peculiar Construction. It was at the close of an afternoon in May, that a party might have been seen gathered around a table covered with all those delicacies that, in the household of a rich Southern planter, are regarded as almost necessaries of life. In the centre stood a dish of ripe strawberries, their plump red sides peeping through the... more...

Château de Férouzat, ..., 18... No indeed, my dear Louis, I am neither dead nor ruined, nor have I turned pirate, trappist, or rural guard, as you might imagine in order to explain my silence these four months since I last appeared at your illustrious studio. No, you witty giber, my fabulous heritage has not taken wings! I am dwelling neither in China on the Blue River, nor in Red Oceania, nor in... more...

OXFORD The night before I left home for Oxford I had a talk with my father. He was not of the sentimental kind, but I knew that he had a rare fondness for my brother, my sister Nina and myself, and I have never had a moment when I did not return his affection. He had always been bothered by my lack of seriousness, and he doubted whether I should really get the best out of 'Varsity life. After... more...

CHAPTER ONE: A Little Dinner with Mr. Lucullus Fyshe The Mausoleum Club stands on the quietest corner of the best residential street in the City. It is a Grecian building of white stone. About it are great elm trees with birds—the most expensive kind of birds—singing in the branches. The street in the softer hours of the morning has an almost reverential quiet. Great motors move drowsily along it,... more...

ALPHONSE DAUDET Nominally Daudet, with the Goncourts and Zola, formed a trio representing Naturalism in fiction. He adopted the watchwords of that school, and by private friendship, no less than by a common profession of faith, was one of them. But the students of the future, while recognizing an obvious affinity between the other two, may be puzzled to find Daudet's name conjoined with theirs.... more...

HOW "THE MORRISON" BROKE ST. RONAN'S RULE On this crowded twenty-four-hour cross-section of contemporary American life the curtain goes up at nine-thirty o'clock of a January forenoon. Locality, the city of Marion—the capital of a state. Time, that politically throbbing, project-crowded, anxious, and expectant season of plot and counterplot—the birth of a legislative session.... more...

THE SAGAS GENERAL INTRODUCTION The following stories are taken from the Fornaldarsögur Northrlanda, or 'Stories of Ancient Times relating to the countries of the North'—a collection of Sagas edited by Rafn in 1829-30 and re-edited by Valdimar Ásmundarson in 1886-1891. The stories contained in this collection deal almost exclusively with times anterior to Harold the Fairhaired (c. 860-930)... more...