Literary Collections Books

I. THE LORRAINS At the dawn of an October day in 1827 a young fellow about sixteen years of age, whose clothing proclaimed what modern phraseology so insolently calls a proletary, was standing in a small square of Lower Provins. At that early hour he could examine without being observed the various houses surrounding the open space, which was oblong in form. The mills along the river were already... more...

SPECIAL INTRODUCTION Among the absurd notions as to what the Talmud was, given credence in the Middle Ages, one was that it was a man! The mediaeval priest or peasant was perhaps wiser than he knew. Almost, might we say, the Talmud was Man, for it is a record of the doings, the beliefs, the usages, the hopes, the sufferings, the patience, the humor, the mentality, and the morality of the Jewish people... more...

CHAPTER I THE PORTRAIT It was getting dark when Festing stopped at the edge of a ravine on the Saskatchewan prairie. The trail that led up through the leafless birches was steep, and he had walked fast since he left his work at the half-finished railroad bridge. Besides, he felt thoughtful, for something had happened during the visit of a Montreal superintendent engineer that had given him a hint. It... more...

CHAPTER I THE GAME "Forty-Love." "Game! and Set. Six to two." A ripple of cheers ran round the court, followed by a buzz of excited conversation. The young men smiled at each other and at their friends on the side lines and proceeded to change courts for the next set, pausing for refreshments on the way. "Much too lazy, Captain Jack. I am quite out of patience with you," cried a... more...

When we judge of another's assurance in death, which, without doubt, is the most remarkable action of human life, we are to take heed of one thing, which is that men very hardly believe themselves to have arrived to that period. Few men come to die in the opinion that it is their latest hour; and there is nothing wherein the flattery of hope more deludes us; It never ceases to whisper in our ears,... more...

CATO, THE CENSOR Born in Tusculum, Italy, in 234 b.c., died in 149; celebrated as statesman, general, and writer; questor under Scipio in 204; Consul in 195; served in Spain in 194; censor in 184; ambassador to Carthage in 150; one of the chief instigators of the third Punic war; among his writings are "De Re Rustica" and "Origines." OF WORK ON A ROMAN FARM When the owner of the farm... more...

CHAPTER I THAT MEN BY VARIOUS WAYS ARRIVE AT THE SAME END. The most usual way of appeasing the indignation of such as we have any way offended, when we see them in possession of the power of revenge, and find that we absolutely lie at their mercy, is by submission, to move them to commiseration and pity; and yet bravery, constancy, and resolution, however quite contrary means, have sometimes served to... more...

CHAPTER I CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LUMBER CAMP It was due to a mysterious dispensation of Providence, and a good deal to Leslie Graeme, that I found myself in the heart of the Selkirks for my Christmas Eve as the year 1882 was dying. It had been my plan to spend my Christmas far away in Toronto, with such Bohemian and boon companions as could be found in that cosmopolitan and kindly city. But Leslie Graeme... more...

The most extraordinary dream I ever had was one in which I fancied that, as I was going into a theater, the cloak-room attendant stopped me in the lobby and insisted on my leaving my legs behind me. I was not surprised; indeed, my acquaintanceship with theater harpies would prevent my feeling any surprise at such a demand, even in my waking moments; but I was, I must honestly confess, considerably... more...

CHAPTER I "I said you'd do something," said Daphne, leaning back easily in her long chair. I stopped swinging my legs and looked at her. "Did you, indeed," I said coldly. My sister nodded dreamily. "Then you lied, darling. In your white throat," I said pleasantly. "By the way, d'you know if the petrol's come?" "I don't even care," said Daphne.... more...