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Eustace’s career—if career it can be called—certainly dates from that afternoon in the chestnut woods above Ravello. I confess at once that I am a plain, simple man, with no pretensions to literary style. Still, I do flatter myself that I can tell a story without exaggerating, and I have therefore decided to give an unbiassed account of the extraordinary events of eight years ago.

Hetherwick had dined that evening with friends who lived in Cadogan Gardens, and had stayed so late in conversation with his host that midnight had come before he left and set out for his bachelor chambers in the Temple; it was, indeed, by the fraction of a second that he caught the last east-bound train at Sloane Square.

The Charterhouse of Parma is a compelling novel of passion and daring, of prisons and heroic escape, of political chicanery and sublime personal courage. Set at the beginning of the nineteenth century, amidst the golden landscapes of northern Italy, it traces the joyous but ill-starred amorous exploits of a handsome young aristocrat called Fabrice del Dongo, and of his incomparable aunt Gina, her suitor Prime Minister Mosca, and Clélia, a heroine of ethereal beauty and earthly passion.

MY father, Andrey Petrovitch Grinyov, had in his youth served under Count Miinnich and retired with the rank of first Major in 17—. From that time onwards he lived on his estate in the province of Simbirsk, where he married Avdotya Vassilyevna U., daughter of a poor landowner of the district. There had been nine of us. All my brothers and sisters died in infancy. Through the kindness of Prince B., our near relative, who was a major of the Guards, I was registered as sergeant in the Semyonovsky regiment. I was supposed to be on leave until I had completed my studies. Our bringing-up in those days was very different from what it is now. At tlie age of five I was entrusted to the groom Savelyitch, who was told off to look after me, as a reward for the sobriety of his behaviour. Under his supervision I had learned, by the age of twelve, to read and write Russian, and could judge very soundly the points of a borzoi dog. At that time my father hired for me a Frenchman, Monsieur Beaupre, who was fetched from Moscow together with the yearly supply of wine and olive oil. Savelyitch very much disliked his coming.
‘The child, thank heaven, has his face washed and his hair combed, and his food given him,’ he grumbled to himself. ‘Much good it is to spend money on the Frenchman, as though there weren’t enough servants on the estate!’

THE morning of Fort Dearborn’s fatal day dawned bright and clear over Lake Michigan and the sandy flat. The “reveille” doubtless was sounded before sun-rise; and one can imagine the rattle of the drum and scream of the fife as they broke the dewy stillness and floated away, over the sand-spit and out on the lake; across the river to the Kinzie house and its outbuilding, the Ouillemette house; and up stream to the Indian encampments, large, dark and lowering. Quite possibly the tune then prescribed was the same as that now used for the drum-fife reveille, together with the words that have attached themselves to it of late years:

The Child and Childhood in Folk Thought (the Child in Primative Culture) by Alexander Francis.

This book is a collection of Biographical sketches of legendary American men and women such as George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, Henry David Thoreau, Thomas Alva edition this classic Book is readable and informative too.

First published in the year 1920, ‘The Children of Odin: The Book of Northern Myths’ is Padraic Colum’s famous retelling of norse myths and tales.

There are not many people—and as it is desirable that a story-teller and a story-reader should establish a mutual understanding as soon as possible, I beg it to be noticed that I confine this observation neither to young people nor to little people, but extend it to all conditions of people: little and big, young and old: yet growing up, or already growing down again—there are not, I say, many people who would care to sleep in a church. I don’t mean at sermon-time in warm weather (when the thing has actually been done, once or twice), but in the night, and alone. A great multitude of persons will be violently astonished, I know, by this position, in the broad bold Day. But it applies to Night. It must be argued by night, and I will undertake to maintain it successfully on any gusty winter’s night appointed for the purpose, with any one opponent chosen from the rest, who will meet me singly in an old churchyard, before an old church-door; and will previously empower me to lock him in, if needful to his satisfaction, until morning.

“Stilling, that night after dinner, had surpassed himself. He always did, Wrayford reflected, when the small fry from Highfield came to dine. He, Cobham Stilling, who had to find his bearings and keep to his level in the big heedless ironic world of New York, dilated and grew vast in the congenial medium of Highfield. The Red House was the biggest house of the Highfield summer colony, and Cobham Stilling was its biggest man. No one else within a radius of a hundred miles (on a conservative estimate) had as many horses, as many greenhouses, as many servants, and assuredly no one else had three motors and a motor-boat for the lake.” -an excerpt

“High overhead ridges of many-peaked cloud—the gleaming, wandering Alps of the blue ether; outstretched far below, the warming bosom of the earth, throbbing with the hope of maternity. Two spirits abroad in the air, encountering each other and passing into one: the spirit of scentless spring left by melting snows and the spirit of scented summer born with the earliest buds. The road through the forest one of those wagon-tracks that were being opened from the clearings of the settlers, and that wound along beneath trees of which those now seen in Kentucky are the unworthy survivors[…]” -an excerpt

“On the morning of the 9th of May, 18—, three persons important to this story stood among the passengers on the deck of the Isle of Man steamship Tynwald as she lay by the pier at Douglas getting up steam for the passage to Liverpool. One of these was an old clergyman of seventy, with a sweet, mellow, childlike face; another was a young man of thirty, also a clergyman; the third was a girl of twenty.” -an excerpt

First published in the year 1728, the present book, ‘The Chronology of Ancient Kingdoms Amended’ by Sir Isaac Newton, is an approximately 87,000-word composition. The work represents one of Newton’s forays into the topic of chronology, detailing the rise and history of various ancient kingdoms throughout antiquity.

“These Lectures were originally delivered as the Boyle Lectures for 1910, and were afterwards repeated in a more popular form at All Saints, Margaret Street. They are now written from notes taken at their delivery at All Saints, and the writer’s thanks are due to the kindness of those who lent him the notes. Some explanation of their elementary character seems called for.” -Introduction

This is the story of how a middle-aged spinster lost her mind, deserted her domestic gods in the city, took a furnished house for the summer out of town, and found herself involved in one of those mysterious crimes that keep our newspapers and detective agencies happy and prosperous. For twenty years I had been perfectly comfortable; for twenty years I had had the window-boxes filled in the spring, the carpets lifted, the awnings put up and the furniture covered with brown linen; for as many summers I had said good-by to my friends, and, after watching their perspiring hegira, had settled down to a delicious quiet in town, where the mail comes three times a day, and the water supply does not depend on a tank on the roof.
And then—the madness seized me. When I look back over the months I spent at Sunnyside, I wonder that I survived at all. As it is, I show the wear and tear of my harrowing experiences. I have turned very gray—Liddy reminded me of it, only yesterday, by saying that a little bluing in the rinse-water would make my hair silvery, instead of a yellowish white. I hate to be reminded of unpleasant things and I snapped her off.

The 4.15 from Victoria to Lewes had been held up at Three Bridges in consequence of a derailment and, though John Lexman was fortunate enough to catch a belated connection to Beston Tracey, the wagonette which was the sole communication between the village and the outside world had gone.
“If you can wait half an hour, Mr. Lexman,” said the station-master, “I will telephone up to the village and get Briggs to come down for you.”
John Lexman looked out upon the dripping landscape and shrugged his shoulders.
“I’ll walk,” he said shortly and, leaving his bag in the station-master’s care and buttoning his mackintosh to his chin, he stepped forth resolutely into the rain to negotiate the two miles which separated the tiny railway station from Little Tracey.

First-night at Fellsgarth was always a festive occasion. The holidays were over, and school had not yet begun. All day long, from remote quarters, fellows had been converging on the dear old place; and here they were at last, shoulder to shoulder, delighted to find themselves back in the old haunts. The glorious memories of the summer holidays were common property. So was not a little of the pocket-money. So, by rule immemorial, were the contents of the hampers. And so, as they discovered to their cost, were the luckless new boys who had to-day tumbled for the first time headlong into the whirlpool of public school life.

If by any chance you should ever sail on a low ebb-tide along a certain western coast, you will, if you are of a receptive humour and new to the district, receive a somewhat startling impression of the dignity of the absolutely flat.

Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more;
I am not partial to infringe our laws:
The enmity and discord which of late
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke
To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,
Who, wanting guilders to redeem their lives,
Have seal’d his rigorous statutes with their bloods,
Excludes all pity from our threatening looks.
For, since the mortal and intestine jars
’Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us,
It hath in solemn synods been decreed,
Both by the Syracusians and ourselves,
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns:

The Coming of Bill is the nearest Wodehouse ever came to a serious novel, although the influence of the musical comedies he was writing at the time is never far away. Bill is the child of Ruth, a spoilt heiress, and Kirk, an impecunious artist of perfect physique. Their marriage has been arranged by Ruth’s aunt, a believer in eugenics who then takes charge of the baby. The story, set entirely in New York and Connecticut, concerns the young couple’s campaign to retrieve their child from the overbearing Mrs Porter and establish a normal family life. They are eventually successful, but only after a series of comic mishaps in a story which features a galaxyof vintage Wodehouse characters, including the bossy aunt, a tetchy millionaire, a good-natured ex-boxer and an orotund English butler.

The renowned British author of the famous Sherlock Holmes series, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, apart from his brilliant fiction works, is known for his belief in spritual and supernatural concepts. Once, when he was convinced by a set of photographs that seemingly captured two young girls playing with a group of tiny, translucent fairies. To demonstrate his unshakable belief in the spirit world he published ‘The Coming of the Fairies’ in 1922. It recounts the story of the photos, their supposed provenance, and the startling implications of their existence.

A powerful collection of verses by one of America’s greatest poets. These beautiful, profound meditations on nature, spirit, faith, and love were created by the brilliant imagination of one of our most original poets.

A long collection of poems written by the renowned British gothic stories writer Edgar Ellan Poe. This collection is one unique volume of Poe’s poetical works which was not his main domain of writing.

A Turtle asked an Eagle to teach her how to fly. The Eagle advised her not to try, as she was not fit for it; but she insisted. The Eagle took her in his claws, raised her up, and dropped her: she fell on stones and broke to pieces.

This compandium is a unique and thick volume of all works of the celebrated English novelist Jane Austen, initiated by Project Gutenberg. Read this volume if you are a Jane Austen fan or are simply interested in reading one of the most acclaimed authors of the Victorian era.

 One of the major English Romantic poets and is widely considered to be among the finest lyric poets in the English language. 

Rudyard Kipling was an English journalist, short-story writer, poet, and novelist. He was born in India, which inspired much of his work. Kipling’s works of fiction include The Jungle Book, Kim, and many short stories, including “The Man Who Would Be King”

Russia’s changes were Gorky’s changes. He first flung his type of hero, the people from the lowest of the low—water-rats, tramps, petty thieves—into a discouraged, disappointed and hopeless Russia. It was a Russia that had almost decided that there were no more people, that they were without courage, that the misery and degradation in which they lived was there because of their own inefficiency, their lack of idealism, their incapacity to grasp an idea and to strike and fight for it.

I then examined what knowledge I possessed, and discovered that in none of it, with the exception of sense-perceptions and necessary principles, did I enjoy that degree of certitude which I have just described. I then sadly reflected as follows: “We cannot hope to find truth except in matters which carry their evidence in themselves—that is to say, in sense-perceptions and necessary principles; we must therefore establish these on a firm basis. Is my absolute confidence in sense-perceptions and on the infallibility of necessary principles analogous to the confidence which I formerly possessed in matters believed on the authority of others?

First published in the year 1913, the present book ‘The Confessions of Arsène Lupin’ is written by the famous French novelist and short story writer Maurice Leblanc. This book consists of ten adventures of the author’s famously created fictional character of Arsene Lupin, a gentleman, thief and detective.