Dear Bill⁠— I have never been much of a lad for the To ⸻ But For Whose Sympathy and Encouragement This Book Would Never Have Been Written type of dedication. It sounds so weak-minded. But in the case ...

“A gentleman called to see you when you were out last night, sir,” said Mrs. Medley, my landlady, removing the last of the breakfast things. “Yes?” I said, in my affable way. “A gentleman,” said Mrs. ...

I have often thought that Who’s Who, though a bulky and well-meaning volume, omits too many of England’s greatest men. It is not comprehensive enough. I am in it, nestling among the G’s:⁠— “Garnet, Je...

The austerity of Waterloo Station was lightened on the following morning at ten minutes to eleven, when I arrived to catch the train to Combe Regis, by several gleams of sunshine and a great deal of b...

From Axminster to Combe Regis the line runs through country as attractive as any that can be found in the island, and the train, as if in appreciation of this fact, does not hurry over the journey. It...

Sunshine, streaming into my bedroom through the open window, woke me next day as distant clocks were striking eight. It was a lovely morning, cool and fresh. The grass of the lawn, wet with dew, spark...

The day was Thursday, the date July the twenty-second. We had been chicken-farmers for a whole week, and things were beginning to settle down to a certain extent. The coops were finished. They were no...

There are moments and moments. The present one belonged to the more painful variety. Even to my exhausted mind it was plain that there was a need here for explanations. An Irishman’s croquet-lawn is h...

“Edwin comes today,” said Mrs. Ukridge. “And the Derricks,” said Ukridge, sawing at the bread in his energetic way. “Don’t forget the Derricks, Millie.” “No, dear. Mrs. Beale is going to give us a ver...

Why is it, I wonder, that stories of Retribution calling at the wrong address, strike us as funny instead of pathetic? I myself had been amused by them many a time. In a book which I had read only a f...

It would be interesting to know to what extent the work of authors is influenced by their private affairs. If life is flowing smoothly, are the novels they write in that period of content coloured wit...

I could have wished, during the next few days, that Mr. Harry Hawk’s attitude towards myself had not been so unctuously confidential and mysterious. It was unnecessary, in my opinion, for him to grin ...

The fame which came to me through that gallant rescue was a little embarrassing. I was a marked man. Did I walk through the village, heads emerged from windows, and eyes followed me out of sight. Did ...

“Met the professor’s late boatman on the Cob,” said Mr. Chase, dissecting a chocolate cake. “Clumsy man,” said Phyllis, “I hope he was ashamed of himself. I shall never forgive him for trying to drown...

“The fact is,” said Ukridge, “if things go on as they are now, my lad, we shall be in the cart. This business wants bucking up. We don’t seem to be making headway. Why it is, I don’t know, but we are ...

Some people do not believe in presentiments. They attribute that curious feeling that something unpleasant is going to happen to such mundane causes as liver, or a chill, or the weather. For my own pa...

I roamed the place in search of the varlet for the space of half-an-hour, and, after having drawn all his familiar haunts, found him at length leaning over the seawall near the church, gazing thoughtf...

She was wearing a Panama, and she carried a sketching-block and campstool. “Good evening,” I said. “Good evening,” said she. It is curious how different the same words can sound, when spoken by differ...

Hours after⁠—or so it seemed to me⁠—we reached the spot at which our ways divided. We stopped, and I felt as if I had been suddenly cast back into the workaday world from some distant and pleasanter p...

Reviewing the matter later, I could see that I made one or two blunders in my conduct of the campaign to win over Professor Derrick. In the first place, I made a bad choice of time and place. At the m...

People are continually writing to the papers⁠—or it may be one solitary enthusiast who writes under a number of pseudonyms⁠—on the subject of sport, and the overdoing of the same by the modern young m...

“Beale,” I said, “are you drunk?” “Wish I was, sir,” said the Hired Man. “Then what on earth do you mean? Gone? Where have they gone to?” “Don’t know, sir. London, I expect.” “London? Why?” “Don’t kno...

Rather to my surprise, the next morning passed off uneventfully. Our knocker advertised no dun. Our lawn remained untrodden by hobnailed boots. By lunchtime I had come to the conclusion that the expec...

A yell of welcome drowned the tumult of the looters. “Is that you, Garny, old horse? What’s up? What’s the matter? Has everyone gone mad? Who are those infernal scoundrels in the fowl-run? What are th...