Literary Collections Books

THE OLD STONE MILL There were two ways by which one could get to the Old Stone Mill. One, from the sideroad by a lane which, edged with grassy, flower-decked banks, wound between snake fences, along which straggled irregular clumps of hazel and blue beech, dogwood and thorn bushes, and beyond which stretched on one side fields of grain just heading out this bright June morning, and on the other side a... more...

IN DEFIANCE OF DUTY “To-morrow being Saturday afternoon,” began Eveley, deftly slipping a dish of sweet pickles beyond the reach of the covetous fat fingers of little niece Nathalie,—“to-morrow being Saturday afternoon—” “Doesn’t to-morrow start at sunrise as usual?” queried her brother-in-law curiously. “As every laborer knows,” said Eveley firmly, “Saturday begins with the... more...

GENERAL INTRODUCTION. These articles recovered from the MSS. of De Quincey will, the Editor believes, be found of substantive value. In some cases they throw fresh light on his opinions and ways of thinking; in other cases they deal with topics which are not touched at all in his collected works: and certainly, when read alongside the writings with which the public is already familiar, will give... more...

SCENE.—London. ACT I. SCENE I.—FAILER entering to BURR, who is putting on his buff-coat. Fail. What! not ready yet, man? Burr. You do not consider my voyage from Holland last night. Fail. Pish, a mere ferry; get up, get up: My cousin's maids will come and blanket thee anon; art thou not ashamed to lie a-bed so long? Burr. I may be more ashamed to rise; and so you'll say, dear heart, if... more...

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DEDICATION. MY DEAR WILLIAM ARCHER, Severe and ruthlessly honest man that you are, you will find that the levities and the gravities of this book do not accord, and will say so. I plead only that they were written at intervals, and in part for recreation, during years in which their author has striven to maintain a cheerful mind while a popular philosophy which he believed to be cheap took possession... more...

Last spring I found a pumpkin seed,  And thought that I would goAnd plant it in a secret place,  That no one else would know,And watch all summer long to see  It grow, and grow, and grow,And maybe raise a pumpkin for  A Jack-a-lantern show. I stuck a stick beside the seed,  And thought that I should shoutOne morning when I stooped and saw  The greenest little sprout!I used to carry water... more...

A SEVENTH-STORY HEAVEN At one end of the city that I love there is a tall, dingy pile of offices that has evidently seen more prosperous fortunes. It is not the aristocratic end. It is remote from the lordly street of the fine shops of the fair women, where in the summer afternoons the gay bank clerks parade arm-in-arm in the wake of the tempestuous petticoat. It lies aside from the great exchange... more...

Introduction My aim in this little book has been to give short sketches and estimates of the greatest modern English writers from Macaulay to Stevenson and Kipling. Omissions there are, but my effort has been to give the most characteristic writers a place and to try to stimulate the reader's interest in the man behind the book as well as in the best works of each author. Too much space is devoted... more...

SECTION I (Pandava-Pravesa Parva) OM! Having bowed down to Narayana, and Nara, the most exalted of male beings, and also to the goddess Saraswati, must the word Jaya be uttered. Janamejaya said, "How did my great-grandfathers, afflicted with the fear of Duryodhana, pass their days undiscovered in the city of Virata? And, O Brahman, how did the highly blessed Draupadi, stricken with woe, devoted to... more...