ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the FamousMoll Flanders &c., byDaniel DefoeThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictionswhatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg Licenseincludedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.netTitle: The Fortunes and Misfortunes of theFamous Moll Flanders &c.Author: Daniel DefoeRelease Date: March 19, 2008 [EBook #370]Last Updated:October 18, 2016Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOLL FLANDERS***The Fortunes & Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders &c.Who was Born in Newgate, and during aLife of continu'd Variety forThreescore Years, besides her Childhood, was Twelve Year a Whore, fivetimesa Wife (whereof once to her own Brother), Twelve Year a Thief,Eight Year a Transported Felon in Virginia,at last grew Rich, liv'dHonest, and dies a Penitent.  Written from her own Memorandums . . .by DanielDefoeTHE AUTHOR'S PREFACEThe world is so taken up of late with novels and romances, that it willbehard for a private history to be taken for genuine, where the namesand other circumstances of the personare concealed, and on thisaccount we must be content to leave the reader to pass his own opinionuponthe ensuing sheet, and take it just as he pleases.The author is here supposed to be writing her ownhistory, and in thevery beginning of her account she gives the reasons why she thinks fitto conceal hertrue name, after which there is no occasion to say anymore about that.It is true that the original of thisstory is put into new words, andthe style of the famous lady we here speak of is a littlealtered;particularly she is made to tell her own tale in modester words thatshe told it at first, the copywhich came first to hand having beenwritten in language more like one still in Newgate than onegrownpenitent and humble, as she afterwards pretends to be.The pen employed in finishing her story,and making it what you now seeit to be, has had no little difficulty to put it into a dress fit to beseen, andto make it speak language fit to be read.  When a womandebauched from her youth, nay, even being theoffspring of debaucheryand vice, comes to give an account of all her vicious practices, andeven todescend to the particular occasions and circumstances by whichshe ran through in threescore years, anauthor must be hard put to itwrap it up so clean as not to give room, especially for viciousreaders, to turnit to his disadvantage.All possible care, however, has been taken to give no lewd ideas, noimmodestturns in the new dressing up of this story; no, not to theworst parts of  her expressions.  To this purposesome of the viciouspart of her life, which could not be modestly told, is quite left out,and several otherparts are very much shortened.  What is left 'tishoped will not offend the chastest reader or the modesthearer; and asthe best use is made even of the worst story, the moral 'tis hoped willkeep the readerserious, even where the story might incline him to beotherwise.  To give the history of a wicked liferepented of,necessarily requires that the wicked part should be make as wicked asthe real history of itwill bear, to illustrate and give a beauty tothe penitent part, which is certainly the best and brightest,ifrelated with equal spirit and life.It is suggested there cannot be the same life, the same brightnessandbeauty, in relating the penitent part as is in the criminal part.  Ifthere is any truth in that suggestion,I must be allowed to say 'tisbecause there is not the same taste and relish in the reading, andindeed it istoo true that the difference lies not in the real worth ofthe subject so much as in the gust and palate ofthe reader.But as this work is chiefly recommended to those who know how to readit, and how to makethe good uses of it which the story all alongrecommends to them, so it is to be hoped that such readerswill be morepleased with the moral than the fable, with the application than withthe relation, and with theend of the writer than with the life of theperson written of.There is in this story abundance of delightfulincidents, and all ofthem usefully applied.  There is an agreeable turn artfully given themin the relating,that naturally instructs the reader, either one way orother.  The first part of her lewd life with the younggentleman atColchester has so many happy turns given it to expose the crime, andwarn all whosecircumstances are adapted to it, of the ruinous end ofsuch things, and the foolish, thoughtless, andabhorred conduct of boththe parties, that it abundantly atones for all the lively descriptionshe gives of herfolly and wickedness.The repentance of her lover at the Bath, and how brought by the justalarm of his fitof sickness to abandon her; the just caution giventhere against even the lawful intimacies of the dearest


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ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vampyre; A Tale, by John William PolidoriThis eBook is for theuse of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give itaway orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.netTitle: The Vampyre; A TaleAuthor: John William PolidoriPosting Date: October 21,2009 [EBook #6087]Release Date: July, 2004First Posted: November 3, 2002[Last updated: May 26,2012]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VAMPYRE; A TALE***Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenbergvolunteer.                                 THE                               VAMPYRE;                               ATale.                       By John William Polidori                               LONDON                 PRINTED FORSHERWOOD, NEELY, AND JONES                           PATERNOSTERROW                                1819              [Entered at Stationers' Hall, March 27, 1819]           Gillet,Printer, Crown Court, Fleet Street, London.                         EXTRACT OF ALETTER                             FROM GENEVA.                            ______________"I breathe freely in theneighbourhood of this lake; the ground uponwhich I tread has been subdued from the earliest ages; theprincipalobjects which immediately strike my eye, bring to my recollectionscenes, in which man acted thehero and was the chief object ofinterest. Not to look back to earlier times of battles and sieges,here is thebust of Rousseau--here is a house with an inscriptiondenoting that the Genevan philosopher first drewbreath under itsroof. A little out of the town is Ferney, the residence of Voltaire;where that wonderful,though certainly in many respects contemptible,character, received, like the hermits of old, the visits ofpilgrims,not only from his own nation, but from the farthest boundaries ofEurope. Here too is Bonnet'sabode, and, a few steps beyond, the houseof that astonishing woman Madame de Stael: perhaps the firstof hersex, who has really proved its often claimed equality with, the noblerman. We have before hadwomen who have written interesting novels andpoems, in which their tact at observing drawing-roomcharacters hasavailed them; but never since the days of Heloise have those facultieswhich are peculiar toman, been developed as the possible inheritanceof woman. Though even here, as in the case of Heloise,our sex havenot been backward in alledging the existence of an Abeilard in theperson of M. Schlegel asthe inspirer of her works. But to proceed:upon the same side of the lake, Gibbon, Bonnivard, Bradshaw,andothers mark, as it were, the stages for our progress; whilst upon theother side there is one house,built by Diodati, the friend of Milton,which has contained within its walls, for several months, thatpoetwhom we have so often read together, and who--if human passions remainthe same, and humanfeelings, like chords, on being swept by nature'simpulses shall vibrate as before--will be placed byposterity in thefirst rank of our English Poets. You must have heard, or the ThirdCanto of Childe Haroldwill have informed you, that Lord Byron residedmany months in this neighbourhood. I went with somefriends a few daysago, after having seen Ferney, to view this mansion. I trod the floorswith the samefeelings of awe and respect as we did, together, thoseof Shakespeare's dwelling at Stratford. I sat downin a chair of thesaloon, and satisfied myself that I was resting on what he had madehis constant seat. Ifound a servant there who had lived with him;she, however, gave me but little information. She pointedout hisbed-chamber upon the same level as the saloon and dining-room, andinformed me that he retiredto rest at three, got up at two, andemployed himself a long time over his toilette; that he never wenttosleep without a pair of pistols and a dagger by his side, and that henever ate animal food. Heapparently spent some part of every day uponthe lake in an English boat. There is a balcony from thesaloon whichlooks upon the lake and the mountain Jura; and I imagine, that it musthave been hence, hecontemplated the storm so magnificently describedin the Third Canto; for you have from here a mostextensive view ofall the points he has therein depicted. I can fancy him like thescathed pine, whilst allaround was sunk to repose, still waking toobserve, what gave but a weak image of the storms which haddesolatedhis own breast.  The sky is changed!--and such a change; Oh, night!  And storm and darkness,ye are wond'rous strong,  Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light  Of a dark eye in woman! Faralong  From peak to peak, the rattling crags among,  Leaps the lire thunder! Not from one lone


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Defenders, by Philip K. DickThis eBook is for the use of anyoneanywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use itunder the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.orgTitle: The DefendersAuthor: Philip K. DickIllustrator: Ed EmshwillerRelease Date: May12, 2009 [EBook #28767]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THEDEFENDERS ***Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Teamat http://www.pgdp.netThe DefendersBy PHILIP K. DICKIllustrated by EMSH    _No weapon has everbeen frightful enough to put a stop to    war--perhaps because we never before had any that thoughtfor    themselves!_[Illustration]Taylor sat back in his chair reading the morning newspaper. Thewarmkitchen and the smell of coffee blended with the comfort of not havingto go to work. This was hisRest Period, the first for a long time, andhe was glad of it. He folded the second section back, sighingwithcontentment."What is it?" Mary said, from the stove."They pasted Moscow again last night." Taylornodded his head inapproval. "Gave it a real pounding. One of those R-H bombs. It's abouttime."Henodded again, feeling the full comfort of the kitchen, the presenceof his plump, attractive wife, thebreakfast dishes and coffee. This wasrelaxation. And the war news was good, good and satisfying. Hecouldfeel a justifiable glow at the news, a sense of pride and personalaccomplishment. After all, he wasan integral part of the war program,not just another factory worker lugging a cart of scrap, butatechnician, one of those who designed and planned the nerve-trunk of thewar."It says they have thenew subs almost perfected. Wait until they get_those_ going." He smacked his lips with anticipation."When they startshelling from underwater, the Soviets are sure going to be surprised.""They're doing awonderful job," Mary agreed vaguely. "Do you know whatwe saw today? Our team is getting a leady toshow to the schoolchildren. I saw the leady, but only for a moment. It's good for thechildren to see whattheir contributions are going for, don't youthink?"She looked around at him."A leady," Taylor murmured.He put the newspaper slowly down. "Well,make sure it's decontaminated properly. We don't want to takeanychances.""Oh, they always bathe them when they're brought down from the surface,"Mary said. "Theywouldn't think of letting them down without the bath.Would they?" She hesitated, thinking back. "Don,you know, it makes meremember--"He nodded. "I know."       *       *       *       *       *He knew whatshe was thinking. Once in the very first weeks of the war,before everyone had been evacuated from thesurface, they had seen ahospital train discharging the wounded, people who had been showeredwithsleet. He remembered the way they had looked, the expression ontheir faces, or as much of their facesas was left. It had not been apleasant sight.There had been a lot of that at first, in the early days beforethetransfer to undersurface was complete. There had been a lot, and ithadn't been very difficult to comeacross it.Taylor looked up at his wife. She was thinking too much about it, thelast few months. They allwere."Forget it," he said. "It's all in the past. There isn't anybody upthere now but the leadys, and theydon't mind.""But just the same, I hope they're careful when they let one of themdown here. If one werestill hot--"He laughed, pushing himself away from the table. "Forget it. This is awonderful moment; I'll behome for the next two shifts. Nothing to dobut sit around and take things easy. Maybe we can take in ashow. Okay?""A show? Do we have to? I don't like to look at all the destruction, theruins. Sometimes Isee some place I remember, like San Francisco. Theyshowed a shot of San Francisco, the bridge brokenand fallen in thewater, and I got upset. I don't like to watch.""But don't you want to know what's goingon? No human beings are gettinghurt, you know.""But it's so awful!" Her face was set and strained."Please, no, Don."Don Taylor picked up his newspaper sullenly. "All right, but thereisn't a hell of a lot elseto do. And don't forget, _their_ cities aregetting it even worse."She nodded. Taylor turned the rough, thinsheets of newspaper. His goodmood had soured on him. Why did she have to fret all the time? Theywerepretty well off, as things went. You couldn't expect to have everythingperfect, living undersurface,with an artificial sun and artificialfood. Naturally it was a strain, not seeing the sky or being able to goanyplace or see anything other than metal walls, great roaringfactories, the plant-yards, barracks. But it wasbetter than being onsurface. And some day it would end and they could return. Nobody_wanted_ to live