Other editions of book John Macnab

The great doctor stood on the hearth-rug looking down at his friend who sprawled before him in an easy-chair. It was a hot day in early July, and the windows were closed and the blinds half-down to keep out the glare and the dust. The standing figure had bent shoulders, a massive clean-shaven face, and a keen interrogatory air, and might have passed his sixtieth birthday. He looked like a distinguished lawyer, who would soon leave his practice for the Bench. But it was the man in the chair who was the lawyer, a man who had left forty behind him, but was still on the pleasant side of fifty.

John Macnab is the second most famous novel by John Buchan, published in 1925. It is a story of three successful men - a barrister, cabinet minister and banker who are bored. They decide to alleviate the boredom by anonymously informing three Scottish estates that they intend to poach a stag or a salmon and returning it to them undetected. It is about daring thinking and high living set in the beautiful Highlands of Scotland and evoking images of the hunting, shooting and fishing lifestyle.

John Macnabby John BuchanThree successful but bored friends in their mid-forties decide to turn to poaching. They are Sir Edward Leithen, lawyer, Conservative Member of Parliament (MP), and ex-Attorney General; John Palliser-Yeates, banker and sportsman; and Charles, Earl of Lamancha, former adventurer and present Conservative Cabinet Minister. Under the collective name of 'John Macnab', they set up in the Highland home of Sir Archie Roylance, a disabled war hero who wishes to be a Conservative…We are delighted to publish this classic book as part of our extensive Classic Library collection. Many of the books in our collection have been out of print for decades, and therefore have not been accessible to the general public. The aim of our publishing program is to facilitate rapid access to this vast reservoir of literature, and our view is that this is a significant literary work, which deserves to be brought back into print after many decades. The contents of the vast majority of titles in the Classic Library have been scanned from the original works. To ensure a high quality product, each title has been meticulously hand curated by our staff. Our philosophy has been guided by a desire to provide the reader with a book that is as close as possible to ownership of the original work. We hope that you will enjoy this wonderful classic work, and that for you it becomes an enriching experience.

The great doctor stood on the hearth-rug looking down at his friend who sprawled before him in an easy-chair. It was a hot day in early July, and the windows were closed and the blinds half-down to keep out the glare and dust. The standing figure had bent shoulders, a massive clean-shaven face, and a keen interrogatory air, and might have passed his sixtieth birthday. He looked like a distinguished lawyer who would soon leave his practice for the Bench. But it was the man in the chair who was the lawyer, the man who had the forty behind him but was still on the pleasant side of the fifty."I tell you for the tenth time that there is nothing wrong with you.""And I tell you for the tenth time that I'm miserably ill."The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Then it's a sick mind, which I don't propose to the minister. What do you say is wrong?""Simply what my housekeeper calls a 'no-how' feeling.""It's clearly nothing physical. Your heart and lungs are sound. Your digestion is as good as anyone's in Midsummer London. Your nerves — well, I've tried all the stock tests, and they appear to be normal.""Oh, my nerves are all right," said the other wearily.'Your brain seems good enough, except for this dismal obsession that you are ill. I can't find anything earthly wrong, except that you're stale. I don't say run-down, because you're not. Stale in mind. You want a holiday. "

The great doctor stood on the hearth-rug looking down at his friendwho sprawled before him in an easy-chair. It was a hot dayin early July, and the windows were closed and the blinds half-downto keep out the glare and the dust. The standing figure had bentshoulders, a massive clean-shaven face, and a keen interrogatory air,and might have passed his sixtieth birthday. He looked like adistinguished lawyer, who would soon leave his practice for the Bench.But it was the man in the chair who was the lawyer, a man who had leftforty behind him, but was still on the pleasant side of fifty.

The great doctor stood on the hearth-rug looking down at his friend who sprawled before him in an easy-chair. It was a hot day in early July, and the windows were closed and the blinds half-down to keep out the glare and the dust. The standing figure had bent shoulders, a massive clean-shaven face, and a keen interrogatory air, and might have passed his sixtieth birthday. He looked like a distinguished lawyer, who would soon leave his practice for the Bench. But it was the man in the chair who was the lawyer, a man who had left forty behind him, but was still on the pleasant side of fifty."I tell you for the tenth time that there's nothing the matter with you.""And I tell you for the tenth time that I'm miserably ill."The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Then it's a mind diseased, to which I don't propose to minister. What do you say is wrong?""Simply what my housekeeper calls a 'no-how' feeling.""It's clearly nothing physical. Your heart and lungs are sound. Your digestion's as good as anybody's can be in London in Midsummer. Your nerves—well, I've tried all the stock tests, and they appear to be normal.""Oh, my nerves are all right," said the other wearily."Your brain seems good enough, except for this dismal obsession that you are ill. I can find no earthly thing wrong, except that you're stale. I don't say run-down, for that you're not. You're stale in mind. You want a holiday.""I don't. I may need one, but I don't want it. That's precisely the trouble. I used to be a glutton for holidays, and spent my leisure moments during term planning what I was going to do. Now there seems to be nothing in the world I want to do—neither work nor play."