CHAPTER I. 'Thou shalt have no other gods before me.' 'Mother,' said little Effie Maurice, on a Sabbath evening in winter, 'Mr L—— said to-day that we are all in danger of breaking the first commandment,—do you think we are?' 'Did not Mr L. give you his reasons for thinking so?' 'Yes, mother.' 'Didn't you think he gave good... more...

PREFACE. 'The last fruit off an old tree!' This, in the words of Walter Savage Landor, is what I have now the honour to set before the public in these hitherto 'Uncollected Writings of Thomas De Quincey.' It was my privilege to be associated intimately with the Author some thirty to forty years ago—from the beginning of 1850 until his death in 1859. Throughout the whole period... more...

I "I guess my daughter's in here," the old man said leading the way into the little salon de lecture. He was not of the most advanced age, but that is the way George Flack considered him, and indeed he looked older than he was. George Flack had found him sitting in the court of the hotel—he sat a great deal in the court of the hotel—and had gone up to him with characteristic directness... more...

FRENCH LITERATURE. Of French literature, taken as a whole, it may boldly be said that it is, not the wisest, not the weightiest, not certainly the purest and loftiest, but by odds the most brilliant and the most interesting, literature in the world. Strong at many points, at some points triumphantly strong, it is conspicuously weak at only one point,—the important point of poetry. In eloquence, in... more...

My beautiful new watch had run eighteen months without losing or gaining, and without breaking any part of its machinery or stopping. I had come to believe it infallible in its judgments about the time of day, and to consider its constitution and its anatomy imperishable. But at last, one night, I let it run down. I grieved about it as if it were a recognized messenger and forerunner of calamity. But... more...

Characters.Sir Poshbury Puddock (a haughty and high-minded Baronet). Verbena Puddock (his Daughter). Lord Bleshugh (her Lover). Spiker (a needy and unscrupulous Adventurer). Blethers (an ancient and attached Domestic). ACT I.—Scene—The Morning Room, at Natterjack Hall, Toadley-le-Hole; large window open at back, with heavy practicable sash. EnterBlethers. Blethers. Sir Poshbury's birthday... more...

THE BETROTHAL.   Frances Seymour had been left an orphan and an heiress very early in life. Her mother had died in giving birth to a second child, which did not survive its parent, so that Frances had neither brother nor sister; and her father, an officer of rank and merit, was killed at Waterloo. When this sad news reached England, the child was spending her vacation with Mrs Wentworth, a sister of... more...

NAHANT. This rocky peninsula is truly a very wild and unworldlike little territory, jutting boldly out as it does into the mighty bay of Massachusetts, and commanding a view of its whole extent, from Cape Cod to Cape Anne, together with the many islands, towns, and villages scattered along the coast; whilst in front spreads out the Atlantic Ocean. To sit within the upper gallery of this house upon the... more...

"Sammywell, has ta seen Swindle latly?" "Nay, Mally, aw havn't seen him for a matter ov two or three wick." "Well, aw wish tha'd been at chapel yesterdy mornin." "Wor ther summat extra like." "Eah, ther wor summat extra; an summat at wod ha made thee oppen thi e'en. Aw wor nivver so surprised i' mi life. Swindle an his wife wor thear,—an... more...

THE WRECK AT APPLEGATE CROSSING A September morning has dawned, with only a vague tang of autumn in the air. In the green old dooryard at the Red Mill, under the spreading shade trees, two girls are shelling a great basket of dried lima beans for the winter's store. The smaller, black-haired girl begins the conversation. "Suppose Jane Ann doesn't come, Ruth?" "You mean on this... more...