THE JEW OF MALTA. Enter MACHIAVEL. MACHIAVEL. Albeit the world think Machiavel is dead,Yet was his soul but flown beyond the Alps;And, now the Guise is dead, is come from France,To view this land, and frolic with his friends.To some perhaps my name is odious;But such as love me, guard me from their tongues,And let them know that I am Machiavel,And weigh not men, and therefore not men's... more...

THE PRICE The old man, grim of visage, hard of feature and keen of eye, was seated at one side of the table that occupied the middle of the floor in his private office. He held the tips of his fingers together, and leaned back in his chair, with an unlighted cigar gripped firmly in his jaws. He seemed perturbed and troubled, if one could get behind that stoical mask which a life in Wall street... more...

CHAPTER I. THREATENING WEATHER.To Señor, Señor the illustrious Don John Montfort. Honoured Señor and Brother:—There are several months that I wrote to inform you of the deeply deplored death of my lamented husband, Señor Don Richard Montfort. Your letter of condolation and advice was balm poured upon my bleeding wounds, received before yesterday at the hands of my banker, Don Miguel Pietoso. You... more...

PREFACE. As this volume, although not the first in chronological order, is likely to be the first to appear in the Series of which it forms part, and of which the author has the honour to be editor, it may be well to say a few words here as to the scheme of this Series generally. When that scheme was first sketched, it was necessarily objected that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to obtain... more...

AUTHOR'S NOTE "Nostromo" is the most anxiously meditated of the longer novels which belong to the period following upon the publication of the "Typhoon" volume of short stories. I don't mean to say that I became then conscious of any impending change in my mentality and in my attitude towards the tasks of my writing life. And perhaps there was never any change, except in that... more...

I "I'm quite warm," said he, "though I have no sheep-skin coat. I've had a drop, and it runs through all my veins. I need no sheep-skins. I go along and don't worry about anything. That's the sort of man I am! What do I care? I can live without sheep-skins. I don't need them. My wife will fret, to be sure. And, true enough, it is a shame; one works all day long, and... more...

General Prescott, commanding the British forces on Rhode Island in 1777, was a petty tyrant, imperious, irascible, and cruel. He would command citizens of Newport who met him on the streets to take off their hats in deference to him, and if not obeyed, he would knock them off with his cane. If he saw a group of citizens talking together, he would shake his cane at them, and shout, "Disperse, you... more...

CHAPTER I. THE TEMPLE. To the deep snow which had fallen during the past night had succeeded a very sharp wind, so that the ordinarily muddy pavement was hard and dry, as Rigolette and Rodolph wended onwards to the immense and singular bazar called the Temple, the young girl leaning unceremoniously on the arm of her cavalier, who, on his part, appeared as much at his ease as though they had been old... more...

CHAPTER I THE BATTLE OF THE BANANA PEE-WEE HARRIS, mascot of the Raven Patrol, First Bridgeboro Troop, sat upon the lowest limb of the tree in front of his home eating a banana. To maintain his balance it was necessary for him to keep a tight hold with one hand on a knotty projection of the trunk while with the other he clutched his luscious refreshment. The safety of his small form as he sat on the... more...

I THE VALUE OF WORK Enrico Caruso! The very name itself calls up visions of the greatest operatic tenor of the present generation, to those who have both heard and seen him in some of his many rôles. Or, to those who have only listened to his records, again visions of the wonderful voice, with its penetrating, vibrant, ringing quality, the impassioned delivery, which stamps every note he sings with... more...