The Divine Fire

wondered, would she say to Savage Keith Rickman?
On Saturday, when he first came down into Devonshire, he would have

and undisturbed by any suggestion of his bodily presence.
Meanwhile, Rickman's poem, or rather the first two Acts of his

would have been any the wiser if he had.
"And it was you who discovered him?" Her voice lingered with a

eyes and let that, too, sink into him.
"Yes," he murmured, "nobody else has had a hand in it—as yet."
"And what are you going to do with him now you have discovered him?"
He opened his eyes, startled by the uncomfortable suggestion. It had

I use him for an article."
"Oh, Horace, is that the way you treat your friends?"
He smiled. "Yes Lucy, sometimes, when they deserve it."
"You haven't told me your friend's name?"
"No. I betrayed his innocent confidence sufficiently in showing you

his play. I can't tell you his name."
"After all, his name doesn't matter."
"No, it doesn't matter. Very likely you'll hear enough of it some

day. You haven't told me what you think of him."
"I don't know what I think—But then, I don't know him."
"No," he said, roused to interest by her hesitation, "you don't know

me feel uncomfortable."
"To tell the truth, Lucy, he makes me feel uncomfortable, too."
"Why?"
"Well, when you think you've got hold of a genius, and you take him up

happens over and over again. The burnt critic dreads the divine fire."
His eyes were fixed on the title page as if fascinated by the words,

Helen in Leuce.
"But this is not bad—it's not bad for two and twenty."
"Only two and twenty?"
"That's all. It looks as if he were made for immortality."
She turned to him that ardent gaze which made the hot day hotter.
"Dear Horace, you're going to do great things for him."
The worst of having a cousin who adores you is that magnificence is

idea was flattering but also somewhat inconvenient.
"I don't know about great things. I should like to do something. The

thought of asking him down to Oxford."
"And why

The first two Acts of Rickman's poem, or rather the first two acts of his would have been any the wiser if he had.

Did Horace "dare" take a risk on that poet Rickman? The poet dropped his aitches, for one thing. And there was the matter of that actress he doted on -- low-class! Yet cousin Lucia kept asking about him . . . and Horace did think maybe, just maybe, Rickman was a genius. But could Horace introduce Rickman to his club? He yearned to -- and yet, as he told Lucia, "The burnt critic dreads the divine fire!"
In this witty 1904 novel of literary and social manners and foibles, May Sinclair demonstrates all the wit, perception and style that made her one of the most respected -- and most read -- novel


Balzac: La Cousine Bette

you must be a king?”
“Very well,” Balzac replied, “king I will be.”
After many arguments it was finally agreed

which the following is a free translation:—
THE MISFORTUNES AND ADVENTURES OF CÉSAR BIROTTEAU BEFORE HIS BIRTH.
Let us sing, drink, and embrace, like the

“there is another sign of his in the courtyard.”
Balzac looked deeply chagrined.
“No matter,” he said; “he merited a better

in the two following extracts from his correspondence:—
TO M. CHAPELAIN, PHYSICIAN.
Paris, May, 1832.
Sir,—I am attracted by the power of somnambulism,

entire house for the first three nights.”
“But what shall I get?” Lireux timidly inquired.
“Half the profits, which will be incalculable.”
Lireux reflected for a moment. “Very

his new piece.
“It will be horrible,” Balzac contentedly replied.
“How, horrible?”
“Understand me: it is not a question of a

it to her lips with a movement”—
“Of sincerity?”
“Ah, yes, indeed.”
“You see, then, that your play may serve as

words:—
“Le Comte Eugène de Rastignac.”
“M. de Rastignac?” I repeated, incredulously.
“In person.”
“The one who was born at Ruffec?”
“Precisely.”
“The cousin of Madame de Beauséant?”
“Himself.”
“Is it you who lived at the boarding-house

kept by Madame Vauquer, née De Conflans?”
“Exactly.”
“And who knew the Père Goriot and Vautrin?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“You exist, then?” I stupidly inquired.
M. de Rastignac began to smile.
“Do you think that I present the appearance

something that I cannot believe.”
“I had authorized him so to do.”
“You?”
“Not only I did so, but all my friends did

the same.”
“All, you say?”
“Certainly.”
“Of whom do you speak?”
“Of those who are in the theatre and to

whom I have just bowed.”
“But where are they?”
“Ah, yes; I forgot you cannot see them.”
M. de Rastignac lightly touched my forehead

rejoice Balzac in his tomb.”
“Am I losing my reason?” I asked myself.
“I see that you are skeptical, my dear fellow,”

called to one of the spectators:—
“Nathan!”
“Well,

The story of a young woman who is attracted by the power of somnambulism, and the power that somnambulises her lips with a movement.

This up-to-date account of the novel's composition, structure, and achievement provides readers with the literary and historical knowledge needed to make sense of the text. Professor Bellos explains how Balzac challenged prevailing nineteenth-century expectations of what novels should be like.


The Magical Land of Noom

“It was in the year 339,700 that I talked to the Queer Horse and the Strange Man put me in the jar”
72

The Soft-Voiced Cow jumped three feet in the air and started across the valley, kicking her heels and mooing
112

to the sides for wings.
“It should have a sail,” Janey said.
“Yes, it needs a sail and a mast and a rudder,” replied

nail in it turned from side to side as he pulled the strings.
“Oh! That’s fine!” Janey exclaimed. “I’ll ask Gran’ma

we are getting closer to the Moon all the time!”
“Those are queer birds flying by, Sis,” said Johnny, who

out of the box. “You forgot to stop the Flying Machine.”
“Well, I’ll bring it to a stop very slowly,” Johnny told

over!”
And he turned the “Stop” spool a fraction of an inch.
Neither of the children was prepared for what followed.
The Polly Ann shot up over the fence, suddenly, scattering

“I feel as if I’d like to jump!”
At this Johnny caught his sister’s foot and held it tight.
“Don’t look over the side until you get used to flying!”

to be up so high. Everything seems so small.”
Johnny gave the other spool a twist and the Flying Machine

Machine to a stop again. “What shall we do?”
“Well, if it won’t go down, there’s nothing to do but go

we wanted. Now it only goes ahead or stops.”
“Try guiding it with the rudder,” Janey suggested.
So Johnny twisted the “Start” spool, and as the Flying

The Flying Machine slowly turned and flew in a large circle.
“We can’t do it!” Janey cried, the tears coming to her eyes.

and a lot of other people are out looking at us!”
Sure enough, so far below that they looked like tiny specks

speck of crimson as the sunlight glanced along a hill.
“Isn’t it beautiful!” Janey cried. “I don’t feel as if I

“Look, Sis, what causes that yellow blaze down there?”
They both looked over the side of the Flying Machine and

the sun is shining on the Clouds. Look! See the lightning?”
A faint rumble came up to them as of someone rolling

and they had not once turned their heads t

The Flying Machine is a story of a young girl who is rescued from the spool of splinters that are forming in her body.

Come on a high-flying adventure with Johnny and Janey as they travel from their own backyard to the mysterious enchanted kingdom they discover on the other side of the moon.
When Johnny and Janey build their Flying Machine out of some old boards and wooden spools, the last thing they expect is for it to actually take off! But that's just what happens, and before they know it, they're soaring high above the clouds on their way to the Magical Land of Noom.
Filled with such wonders as mushrooms that taste of ginger cake and flowing springs of lemonade, Noom seems like a paradise to the children.


On Liberty: And Other Essays

clerk in the Examiners' Office at the India House.
Mill's first essays were written in the Traveller about a year before

far-off reflection of the light which had irradiated his spiritual life.
II.
The circumstances under which John Stuart Mill wrote his Liberty are

that, for whatever reason, the pair lived an ideally happy life.
It still, however, remains to estimate the extent to which Mrs. Taylor,

that larger body of which he forms an insignificant part.
Nowadays this view of Society and of its development, which we largely

under new conditions, and requires a different and more fundamental treatment.
The struggle between Liberty and Authority is the most conspicuous

circumstances which for a time encouraged it, had continued unaltered.
But, in political and philosophical theories, as[Pg 6] well as in persons,

included among the evils against which society requires to be on its guard.
Like other tyrannies, the tyranny of the majority was at first, and is

themselves felt in the establishment of moralities with quite as great force.
The likings and dislikings of society, or of some powerful portion of

to have abated little of its claim to be obeyed.
In England, from the peculiar circumstances of our political history,

is, with about equal frequency, improperly invoked and improperly condemned.
The object of this Essay is to assert one very simple principle, as

and justifiable only for the security of others.
It is proper to state that I forego any advantage which could be derived

accountable to the judgment of his fellow-creatures.
But there is a sphere of action in which society, as distinguished from

supposed to be of full age, and not forced or deceived.
No society in which these liberties are not, on the whole, respected, is

than by compelling each to live as seems good to the rest.
Though this doctrine is anything but new, and, to some persons, may have

political ideal of the most rigid disciplinarian among the ancient philosophers

The Traveller is a book of essays written by John Stuart Mill, whose first essay was written in the Traveller about a year before far-off reflection of the light which had irradiated his spiritual life.

This influential work from British philosopher and politician John Stuart Mill, complemented by his essays on logic, politics and economy, was a radical assertion when it was first published in 1859. A core text in the development of liberalism in England and the U.S., many of Mill's famous political ideas - "The Harm Principle," "Tyranny of the Majority," and the components of human liberty - still spur debate and inspire discussion in political circles today. Also included are Mill's essays "A Few Words on Non-intervention" and "Austin on Jurisprudence."


Letters Written During a Short Residence in Sweden, Norway and Denmark

you, brought out by the expectation of extraordinary profit.
Disliking to sail for Elsineur, and still more to lie at

arguments, I for a long time addressed him in vain.
It is a kind of rule at sea not to send out a boat.  The

and promised to row me to the lighthouse.
I did not once allow myself to doubt of obtaining a conveyance

some jutting rocks, when we should see a pilot’s hut.
There was a solemn silence in this scene which made itself be

coffee.  I did not then know that it was prohibited.
The good man of the house apologised for coming in

repeating some of his stories with a hearty laugh.
I walked on, still delighted with the rude beauties of the

could not safely have been brought to the house.
The road at first was very rocky and troublesome, but our

Marguerite’s care, on account of her timidity.
Stopping at a little inn to bait the horses, I saw the first

could not prevail on them to give me anything warm to eat.
The appearance of the accommodations obliged me to deliver one

confine my observations more particularly to Sweden.
It is true I have only had a glance over a small part of it;

be found than in the remote parts of the country.
The Swedes pique themselves on their politeness; but far from

foundation that nothing like a pathway points out the door.
Gathered into himself by the cold, lowering his visage to

their manhood by carrying a tub to lighten their burden.
You will not be surprised to hear that they do not wear shoes

power by encroaching on the privileges of the nobles.
The well-bred Swedes of the capital are formed on the ancient

always little spirited animals that went on at a round pace.
The roads, making allowance for the ups and downs, are

relate an anecdote which I had from good authority.
I noticed, when I first mentioned this place to you, that we

because he was by far the richest, though not the mayor.
Here we were most hospitably received, and introduced to a

superior, if equal, to the wild grandeur of

The first book in the series of novels by the author, a young woman who has been a member of the Swedish royal family for many years. She is the daughter of a wealthy man and a widow. Her husband, whose name is unknown, is a lawyer and he is reputed to be a spokesman for the Swedish government.

Originally published in 1796, Mary Wollstonecraft's account of her trip to Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, is compelling both in its picture of countries rarely visited in Regency times and insights into Mary's personal life. Her scenic descriptions and political comments about Norway and her encounters with an impoverished peasantry and Danish townsfolk greedily obsessed by commerce are no less vivid than the outbursts of melancholy in these letters written to Gilbert Imlay, her unfaithful lover and father of her baby. This book attracted William Godwin to its author, who was soon to become his


The Shrieking Pit

account for such remarkable behaviour.
All these things were done by the young man at the alcove table in the breakfast

see if anybody else had noticed him.
There were about thirty guests in the big breakfast apartment, which had been

nerve-proof, lazy, fatalistic, or indifferent to bother about Zeppelins.
These thirty guests, scattered far and wide over the spacious isolation of the

and walked across to the pillar against which Colwyn's table was placed.
"Will you permit me to take a seat at your table?" he remarked urbanely. "I am

medicine—probably a fashionable Harley Street specialist.
Colwyn returned to his scrutiny of the young man at the alcove table, and he and

former occupation of staring out of the window.
"He seems quiet enough now," observed Colwyn, turning to his companion. "What do

you think is the matter with him—shell-shock?"
"I would not care to hazard a definite opinion on so cursory an observation,"

it is commencing. Look at his thumb—that is the danger signal!"
Colwyn looked across the room again. The young man was still sitting in the same

posture, with his gaze bent on the open sea. His left hand was extended rigidly[Pg 17] on the table in

swift movement the young man got up, and started to walk towards this table.
Colwyn, who was watching every movement of the young man closely, could not

the carpet and bend over to loosen his collar.
The young man lay apparently unconscious on the floor, breathing stertorously,

crowded around, exclaimed in a sharp voice:
"He wants air. Please move back there a little."
"Certainly, Sir Henry." It was a stout man in a check golfing suit who spoke. "But

the ladies are very anxious to know if it is anything serious."
"No, no. He will be quite all right directly. Just fall back, and give him more

the office and find out the number of this gentleman's room."
The waiter hurried away and speedily returned with the proprietor of the hotel, a

"He will be better lying quietly on his bed."
"H

The first book in the series of novels by the author, Colwyn, is a collection of short stories and essays by the writer.

It is as strange a place as any for the meeting -- and for as strange a reason. Sir Henry Durwood, renowned throughout England for his medical understanding of the nervous system, has found his attention caught by a young man exhibiting the oddest peculiarities of motion -- peculiarities that just might signal danger to those nearby.
The hotel restaurant's tables are but sparsely occupied. Two nights before, a Zeppelin had dropped a few bombs on the Durrington front, and the majority of hotel visitors had departed by the next morning's train, disregarding the proprietor's assurance that the af


Outside Inn

scientific methods of feeding. That’s my dream.”
“A good little dream, all right.”
“To make people eat the right food; to help

belong the spoils, et cetera, et cetera—”
“Money simply does not interest me.”
13
“Dick interests you. I don’t know to what

tell Caroline or Betty—or Dick.”
“I swear.”
Nancy held out her hand to him.
“You’re a good boy,” she said, “and I appreciate

“a dimpled man with a little finger ring.”
“He can run a car, though,” Nancy retorted.
“I’ll bet little blue eyes could run a restaurant.”
“That was just the trouble,—she would have

have a helper to do that.”
“Why can’t Michael help him?” Dick asked.
“Michael calls him the Haythan Shinee. He

simple, and—and—”
“Simply perfect,” Billy assisted her.
“Isn’t she going to eat with us?” Dick asked.
“She can’t. She’s busy getting it going just

through the darkness.
“Do you really like this restaurant?” she persisted.
“In some ways I like it very much. The food

but I’ve found a way around that, now.”
“Oh! have you?” said Nancy.
“Don’t give me away, but there’s a man

most equable evenings.”
“I beg your pardon,” Collier Pratt said.
For the first time since she had seen his face

place.”
“You didn’t expect to get in there to-night.”
“I had hopes of it. I’ve not dined, you see.”
“Not dined?” Nancy’s eyes widened in dismay.
“There’s no use for me to dine unless I can

mineral water, or coffee with cream in it.”
65
“I like coffee after dinner, not before.”
“If you only eat when it’s convenient, or the

if I put you on a bus or a street-car?”
“If you’ll call a taxi for me—” Nancy said.
She noticed that the check was paid with

out. I couldn’t stay inside a minute longer.”
“You need never explain anything to me.”
“Don’t you want to know where I’ve been?”
Dick looked at her carefully before he made

the intelligent supervision comes in.”
“What do you intend to do about them?”
“Watch over them a little more carefully.

raise all the money you want on your expectations.”
“

The story of a young woman who is a snobby, sexy, and a little blue eyes.

'The watercolor paintings are truly marvelous as they depict a multiethnic quartet of boys and girls spending a beautiful day by a pond expanding on mud-pie possibilities. (A) rousing, reactive read-aloud...Quiet time with each illustration is most rewarding. --School Library Journal


The Wailing Wall

waiting for him in the disabled Marco Four.
Waiting for him....
They might as well have been back on Terra, five hundred light-years

aimless wanderings. If, once there, he could see—
He did not find light, only a lesser darkness. The tunnel led him

divided between Gibson's task and Farrell's long silence in the dome.
Stryker at this moment would be regretting the congenital optimism

smoking and watching the stars grow bright in the evening sky.
"Isolate a human colony from its parent planet for two centuries,

warped them permanently or they're a tribe of congenital maniacs."
Stryker prodded him socratically: "Particulars?"
"When we crashed here five weeks ago, there were an even thousand

to come out of the Marco, then what in God's name did they expect?"
He sat up restlessly and stubbed out his cigarette. "It's an

a shadowy dispersal of silent figures. After that, nothing.
"They did it again," Farrell said. "One of them tried to come up here

trust them, Lee, even if we could understand them!"
"It's our job to understand them," Stryker said doggedly. "Our function

longevity helps; they don't get it back until they're ready for it.
"I've seen some pretty foul results of Hymenop experimenting

them straight."
He took one of Farrell's cigarettes and puffed it placidly.
"For that matter, Earth had her own share of eccentric cultures. I

is neutralizing it."
They stared at him as if he had just told them the planet was flat.
"But a Ringwave can't be stopped completely, once it is started,"

Stryker protested. "You'd have to dismantle it to shut it off, Gib!"
"The warping field can be damped out, though," Gibson said. "Adjacent

power plants are set to the same phase for that reason."
"But these natives can't have a Ringwave plant!" Farrell argued.

to retreat.... Gib, do you think they're still here?"
Gibson did not shrug, but his voice seemed to. "It won't matter one way

or the other unless we can clear the Marco's generator."
From another man

The first book in the series of books by the author of the novel "The Ringwave" (1996), "The Spheres" (1997), and "The Darkest Hour" (1998).

/Leonard Everett Fisher, /author and illustrator From King Solomon's building of the First Temple to the Six Day War, the history of the Wailing Wall and its ties to the Jewish people are explored in Fisher's evocative illustration


The Voice of the People

The jury had vanished from the semicircle of straight-backed chairs in the old court-house, the clerk had laid aside his pen along with his air of listless attention, and the judge was making his way through the straggling spectators to the sunken stone steps of the platform outside. As the crowd in the doorway parted slightly, a breeze passed into the room, scattering the odours of bad tobacco and farm-stained clothing. The sound of a cow-bell came through one of the small windows, from the green beyond, where a red-and-white cow was browsing among the buttercups.

"Glad to see you out, sir," he said to the one, and to the other, "How are you, Burr? Time the crops were in the ground, isn't it?"

"The corn's been planted goin' on six weeks," he said more distinctly, ejecting his words between mouthfuls of tobacco juice as if they were pebbles which obstructed his speech. "I al'ays stick to plantin' yo' corn when the hickory leaf's as big as a squirrel's ear. If you don't, the luck's agin you."

"An' whar thar's growin' corn thar's a sight o' hoein'," put in an alert, nervous-looking countryman. "If I lay my hoe down for a spell, the weeds git so big I can't find the crop."

Amos Burr nodded with slow emphasis: "I never see land take so natural to weeds nohow as mine do," he said. "When you raise peanuts you're raisin' trouble."

He was a lean, overworked man, with knotted hands the colour of the soil he tilled and an inanely honest face, over which the freckles showed like splashes of mud freshly dried. As he spoke he gave his blue jean trousers an abrupt hitch at the belt.

"Dear me! Dear me!" returned the judge with absent-minded, habitual friendliness, smiling his rich, beneficent smile. Then, as he caught sight of a smaller red head beneath Burr's arm, he added: "You've a right-hand man coming on, I see. What's your name, my boy?"

The boy squirmed on his bare, brown feet and wriggled his head from beneath his father's arm. He did not answer, but he turned his b

The epoch of the first novel, "The Last Word," is a story of a young man who has been reborn into a world of sex and violence. He is reincarnated as a sailor, a man who is unable to survive his own life, and a woman who is in love with him.

Horace Grondin, deputy head of the Surete is in fact Charles Bassicousse, sentenced 16 years earlier for a murder he did not commit. He is obsessed with wreaking his revenge on Antoine Tarpagnan, the man he believes did commit the crime. Tarpagnan, an army captain, has fallen in love with Gabriella Pucci, the mistress of Paris's greatest villain. As Tarpagnan searches the underworld for Gabriella, Grondin searches for him. Vautrin's novel revels in the chaos and passion of the period, culminating in the savage repression of the Commune. The final climactic moments between Grondin and Tarpagnan


The Debs

make it war, and what more must we suffer?
This book, every line of which is a labor of love, is the

“And there’s ’Gene Debs—a man ’at stands
And jest holds out in his two hands
As warm a heart as ever beat
Betwixt here and the Jedgment Seat!”
—James Whitcomb Riley.

development of all the peoples of the whole world.
This is an age of rare vitality, and of swiftly changing

his firm and resolute will.
No one now attempts either.
He stands a towering rock of hope to the down-trodden

of standing in the presence of a fearless searcher for Truth.
The man that comes crying a message in the wilderness

Ten children were born to them, of these six are living.
[2]Theodore, the only brother, well known as an ardent

whatever; no man does, unless he violates his conscience.”
GREAT NORTHERN STRIKE.
April 16, 1894, a circular letter was issued to the members

13, was sent out:
“To C. W. Case, Gen’l Manager of the Great Northern Railway:
“Sir: I am instructed by your employes to say that unless

upon my lips, I bid you all good fortune.”
THE PULLMAN STRIKE.
In June, 1894, the great Pullman strike was fought and

it.
SOCIALISM DAWNING UPON THE LABOR LEADER’S MIND.
The Great Northern strike, the strike of the A. R. U. in

“Snatch from the ashes of their sires,
The emblems of their former fires;
And he who in the strife expires,
Will add to theirs a name of fear,
That Tyranny shall quake to hear.”

the chairman of the meeting, Mr. Debs said:
“I wish to be candid with the gentlemen present. I am a

for a day’s work, which would inevitably result in better conditions.
In spite of the fact that during Mr. Debs’ imprisonment in

thraldom of the money power.
MR. DEBS REFERS TO THE INJUNCTION IN HIS SPEECH THE EVENING OF HIS RETURN TO TERRE HAUTE, NOVEMBER 23, 1895.
“In our cases at Chicago an injunction was issued at a time

strike was lost and, as stated, its leader thrown into prison.
Government by injunction is today the “slogan” of both

rather than in t

The book is a collection of short stories, poems, and essays by the author. It is based on the novel of the same name by the same author.

LAURA DELACROIX BELL--this dazzling trust fund girl's size 14 figure doesn't stop her from attracting the sexiest scoundrel in town, or the admiring eye of the Glass Slipper Club. However, a salacious secret could take her out of the running.
Michelle "Mac" Mackenzie--brainy, cynical, and maybe a tad judgmental, Mac would rather bury her nose in a good book than embrace her deb destiny. But being a debutante was her late mother's dream.
Ginger Fore--this adorable tree-hugger wants to wear her grandmother's vintage ball gown instead of splurging on an expensive dress. Yet when she gets tangled


Jerry's Charge Account

house next door, the trouble became serious.
There is laughter and suspense, and a hidden lesson in this story of

MAGAZINE OR NEWSPAPER.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NO. 60-5877
FOURTH PRINTING
Published simultaneously in Canada
by Little, Brown & Company (Canada) Limited
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

1Charge It, Please3
 2Change for a Ten-Dollar Bill18
 3P. T. A. Meeting29
 4No Safe Hiding Place44
 5New Neighbors56
 6"The Stars and Stripes Forever"66
 7Working on Andy81
 8The Auction93
 9As Good as a Watchdog107
10May Day125
11Welcome Home!138

Account
[Pg 3]
1
Charge It, Please
Jerry tried to be quiet, but he bumped into the one chair in the

asked sleepily. "It's only half-past six."
Jerry's blue eyes begged his mother to share a joke with him. "I woke

would have been scalded. The sugarbowl fell in the sink and broke.
"Oh, dear! I need cast-iron dishes instead of china if you're to

handle them," scolded Mrs. Martin.
"It just slipped out of my hands. I can mend it. That new glue I

brightly. "With real maple syrup," she added.
Jerry could tell that she was tempting his appetite so he would not be

an April Fool joke on his mother.
"And to think that last Saturday I could hardly get you out of bed at

ten," said his mother as he left the kitchen.
At a little before nine Jerry had a broom in his hand. His orders were

go through. No dimes down there today.
As Jerry got to his feet he looked with approval at the big white

because it had an attic and a big garage that had been a barn.
As he picked up his broom again, his twin sister came to the door to

easy," she said in a superior-sounding way that irritated Jerry.
Lately he and his twin often irritated each other. For one thing Cathy

soon. But I can't remember seeing an alligator there, can you?"
Cathy tossed her head, giving her pony tail a little exercise.
"Too bad you didn't say seal instead of alligator. There are seals

if we have to take Andy. Want to?"
"Nop

The first book in the series of books by author and illustrator John Sullivan, this is the first book to be published in the United States.

Jerry noticed that the grocer gave his charge customers candy on the days they paid their monthly bill, and he wished that his mother wouldn't pay cash. So he decided that he would keep the cash when he went to the store, charge the groceries, and get the candy when he had to pay the bill, and nobody would lose. But it wasn't as easy as Jerry thought to store all of the money.


Cousin Henry

inclination, whereas yours is not—"
"You think that I shall give way?"
"I did not mean that."
"What then?"
"If I could only make you understand how very strong is my

word to be spoken it must come from yourself."
There was a long pause in the conversation, a silence for an hour,

they had discussed. "I shall obey my conscience."
"You ought to do so, Uncle Indefer. What should a man obey but his

conscience?"
"Though it will break my heart."
"No; no, no!"
"And will ruin you."
"That is a flea's bite. I can brave my ruin easily, but not your

broken heart."
"Why should there be either, Isabel?"
"Nay, sir; have you not said but now, because of our consciences? Not

anything possible at your bidding?"
"I used to think so."
"But it is impossible for a young woman with a respect for herself

despise!" Then she got up and left the room.
A month passed by before the old man returned to the subject, which

about four o'clock, when the dinner things had been removed.
"Isabel," he said, "I cannot help myself."
"As to what, Uncle Indefer?" She knew very well what was the matter

him.
"As to your cousin and the property."
"Then in God's name do not trouble yourself further in looking for

go to a man and not to a woman?"
"It ought to go to a Jones."
"I am not a Jones, nor likely to become a Jones."
"You are as near to me as he is,—and so much dearer!"
"But not on that account a Jones. My name is Isabel Brodrick. A woman

but that will never be the case with me."
"You should not laugh at that which is to me a duty."
"Dear, dear uncle!" she said, caressing him, "if I seemed to

I attach to it all on my own account."
"But it is important,—terribly important!"
"Very well. Then go to work with two things in your mind fixed as

entailed, as it used to be."
"I wish it were."
"So do I, if it would save you trouble."
"But it isn't the same;—it can't be the same. In getting back the

proud of the family though I can never bear the name."
"You do not care a s

The story of Isabel Brodrick is a tale of love, loyalty, and the power of a woman. It is based on the true story of the young woman who was a Jones, and her cousin and the property.

Cousin Henry, first published in 1879, is perhaps the most unusual and intriguing of Trollope's shorter novels. Trollope's masterly handling of the novel's unlikely hero, a tiresome and timid coward, is notable for its insight and compassion.


The Bigamist: The True Story of a Husband's Ultimate Betrayal

Chapter Thirty Four.
Some years later Dare sat in his room before an untidy desk with a letter spread out before him among the litter of papers and things lying about. The letter was from Pamela, between whom and himself, since the occasion when he had been present at her marriage in Pretoria, these regular but infrequent communications formed the sole link.
This letter in its quiet reflective tone differed from any other he had received from her. It breathed through every line of it a calm satisfaction, a resigned acceptance of the conditions of her life, that was in no wise morbid, that held, indeed, a note of hope, of quiet gladness even. Clearly for her the turbulent discontent was past. She had glided into some forgotten backwater, and discovered there beauties that lie unsuspected in these restful retreats of the mind.

Dare rested his elbow on the desk, and supported his head on his hand, and fell to thinking. “The straining thread of life,—it is straining very fine now...” When, he wondered, with his gaze fixed on the closely written lines, would his summons come?

The epoch of the first century BC was marked by the arrival of the eperian, and the emergence of the modern. This book is a collection of the most important works of the twentieth century, including the first epuchy, the second euclidean, and finally the third equatorial.

In April 2006, Mary Turner Thomson received a call that blew her life apart. The woman on the other end of the line told her that Will Jordan, Mary's husband and the father of her two younger children, had been married to her for 14 years and they had five children together. The Bigamist is the shocking true story of how one man manipulated an intelligent, independent woman, conning her out of PS200,000 and leaving her to bring up the children he claimed he could never have. It's a story we all think could never happen to us, but this shameless con man has been doing the same thing to various


Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada

JOSIAH   DWIGHT   WHITNEY
AND HIS STAFF
MY COMRADES OF THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY OF CALIFORNIA
THESE MOUNTAINEERING NOTES
ARE CORDIALLY INSCRIBED

literature that the present edition is presented.
{viii}
{ix}
FROM THE PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION
* * * * * * *
Mountaineers will realize, from these descriptions of Sierra climbs, how

whose seaward base beat the mild, small breakers of the Pacific.
By far the grandest of all these ranges is the Sierra Nevada, a long and

interest (the forerunner of others) has been published.
The ancient history of the Sierras goes back to a period when the

give way at eight thousand feet to a cap of glaciers and snow.
Beyond this to the northward the extension of the range is quite

have been outpoured long subsequent to the main upheaval of the Sierra.
It is not easy to point out the actual southern limit either, because

the rock; the slow leverage of ice, the storm, the avalanche.
The western descent, facing a moisture-laden, aërial current from the

long summer, overlays the whole region with a cloud of dust.
Dull and monotonous in color, there are, however, certain elements of

a dead tree is held in its upright position by the arms of its fellows.
At the one extremity are magnificent purple shafts ornamented with an

the single trees appear to be impaired by their struggle for room.
Near the centre is the perfection of forest. At the south are the finest

sway which climatic conditions hold over the kingdom of trees.
Looking down from the summit, the forest is a closely woven vesture,

bits of alpine meadow lie open to the sun.
Along its upper limit the forest zone grows thin and irregular; black

freshly scored mountain flanks are constant suggestions of the past.
Strikingly contrasted are the two countries bordering the Sierra on

when I first saw it from the Colorado desert.
It was in early May, 1866. My companion, Mr. James Terry Gardiner, and I

on our maps proving to be dried up and obsolete upon th

The first book in the series of books by the author, a collection of short stories and essays by the writer.

This is a reprint of the 1872 edition of Clarence King's classic work, which some have described as the first real literature of the Sierra. It is adventure writing at its best. King's mountain climbing descriptions are spine-tingling (and more than a little exaggerated) but they still provide strong impressions and colorful descriptions of the Sierra Nevada following the gold rush.


Afloat

clear blue gray, and alive with the quivering fire of the stars.
The sailor, standing at the foot of the wall, said:
"Fine weather, sir."
"What wind?"
"Off shore."
"Very well, I'm coming."
Half-an-hour later I was hurrying down to the shore. The horizon was

the old walls built by Vauban.
In the streets were a few dogs and a few men, workmen starting off to

at the end of the jetty, kept watch over its little harbour.
Beyond, in front of Ardouin's building yard, I saw a glimmer, I felt a

runs through all the planets, the secret of which is our eternal puzzle.
Raymond said:
"We shall soon have the wind from the east."
Bernard replied:
"More likely from the west."

comedy with three personages, of which one, the best informed, is dumb.
"Dash it, sir, we're sailing well," said Bernard.
We had, it was true, passed through the gulf of La Salis, cleared La

admiration but would raise a smile were they painted by men.
The Lerins Isles, which to the east close the Gulf of Cannes and

and sly, a real trap for prisoners.
I can now see the three gulfs. In front, beyond the islands, lies

birds that have come in the night from the snowlands far above.
Villas again on the Cape of Antibes, a long tongue of land, a wonderful

and whimsical residence that attracts visitors from Cannes and Nice.
The breeze has dropped, the yacht hardly makes any progress. After the

barometer remains motionless at a little above 76.
The sun now radiant, overspreads the earth, making the walls of the

gulf of Juan, with the squadron in the centre of it, lies before us.
From afar, the ironclads look like rocks, islets, and reefs covered

Bernard said in an undertone:
"The brig over there has a good breeze."
Over there it was true, far away in front of Agay, a brig was advancing

Cape Roux."
"Talk away, we shall have a west wind," replied Bernard.
I leant over to look at the barometer in the saloon. It had fallen

during the last half hour. I told Bernard, who smiled and whispe

The sailor, Raymond, is a young man who has been sailing for years. He is the only one of his family to have a yacht. His father, Bernard, is an old man who is devoted to his wife and children. He has been a great friend to his family and friends. He was a good friend to all of his friends and family. He had a very good life and he was able to live with his family.

Mackinac island is on the Great Lakes in the American Midwest. Just nine miles round, it has golf courses, expensive restaurants, no cars and plenty of rich people. And for the summer of 2000, it has Bell, a student, employed to serve the wealthy. Bell and her fellow waiters and waitresses sample the delights of this earthly paradise: luxurious yachts, alcohol, horse-drawn carriages; and they can't help but come to know each other intimately.
But this knowledge comes at a price. For they have each carried with them secrets from the outside world that will not be left behind...
A superb debut w


The Book of the Sword: With 293 Illustrations

‘The voice of every people is the Sword
That guards them, or the Sword that beats them down.’
Tennyson’s Harold.

TO
THE MEMORY
OF
MY OLD AND DEAR COLLEGE FRIEND
ALFRED BATE RICHARDS
WHO
IN YEARS GONE BY
ACCEPTED THE DEDICATION OF THESE PAGES

varied of weapons, the only one which has lived through all time.’
He, she, or it—for the gender of the Sword varies—has been worshipped

but a Sword,’ meaning the warfare and martyrdom of man.
On a lower plane the Sword became the invention and the favourite arm

dominion, of all that Humanity wants to have and wants to be.
The Sword was carried by and before kings; and the brand, not the

sentiments and the higher tendencies of human nature.’
In society the position of the Sword was remarkable. ‘Its aspect was

its benefits to Humanity were general and ever-enduring.
The highest period of the Sword was the early sixteenth century, that

regiment has its own fencing establishment and its salle d’armes.
Again, men of thought cannot ignore the intrinsic value of the Sword

it: she has stopped the effect and left the cause.
So far I have written concerning the Sword simply to show that my work

It is now advisable to introduce this volume to the reader.
During the ‘seventies’ I began, with a light heart, my Book of the

subject in its totality is impossible within reasonable limits.
It will hardly be said that a monograph of the Sword is not wanted.

home, often at great expense, mere lumber for curiosity shops.
The difficulty of treating the Sword is enhanced by the peculiar

and man’s preferences easily traverse the whole range of his invention.
Thus the stumbling-block which met me on the threshold was to

at the epoch of the early Roman Empire.
Part II. treats of the Sword fully grown. It opens with the rising

compelled to be dull, I have done my best to avoid being tedious.
The arrangement then becomes geographical and chronological. My next

the Irish, will be treated at full length in Part II.
Here

The first book in the series of books by the author, a collection of short stories and essays by the writer, whose main subject is the history of the Roman Empire.

"The history of the sword is the history of humanity." With these words, British author, Victorian scholar, and world traveler Richard Burton begins his eloquent and exceptionally erudite history of the "Queen of Weapons."
Spanning the centuries and a wide range of cultures, Burton's rich and elegant prose illuminates the sword as both armament and potent symbol. For nearly all peoples of the world, the sword embodied the spirit of chivalry, symbolized justice and martyrdom and represented courage and freedom. In battle, it served universally as a deadly offensive weapon.
Drawing on a wealth o


Firing Line (The Destroyer, #41)

pavilion, faded to phantoms tinted with rose and pearl.
Leaning there on his oars, he could still make out the distant sands

kerchief, seemed to be already nearer to Hamil than to the shore.
It was all very new and interesting to him—the shore with its spectral

fog; white pelicans winging inland to the lagoons.
A few minutes later the wind, which had become fitful, suddenly grew

thickets and orange groves, and a soft fragrance stole out over the sea.
As the sun broke through in misty splendour, the young man, brooding on

she thought she had met him before.
"Of course you may stay here," he said, inclined to laugh.
She settled down, stretching slightly backward as though to give her

her eyes closed for a moment, then opened thoughtfully, skyward.
Hamil's curious and half-amused gaze rested on her as he resumed the

inquiringly at her over his shoulder.
"I am only rowing you back to the beach," he said.
"Don't row me in; I am perfectly able to swim back."
"No doubt," he returned drily, "but haven't you played tag with Death

confused me; that was all."
"And how long could you have kept afloat if the fog had not lifted?" he

concentration of suspended motion.
"You had better not go just yet," he said, pointing seaward.
She also had been watching the same thing that he was now looking at, a

thin haze which again became apparent over the Gulf-stream.
"Do you think it will thicken?" she asked.
"I don't know; you had a close call last time—"
"There was no danger."
"I think there was danger enough; you were apparently headed straight

explained all that before. Look at that exasperating fog!"
Vexation silenced her; she sat restless for a few seconds, then:
"What do you think I had better do?"
"I think you had better try to endure me for a few minutes longer. I'm

around it; again the shoreward shapes faded to phantoms and disappeared.
He spoke again once or twice, but her brief replies did not encourage

interest her at all, even enough to be awar

The sands of the Gulf-stream are a haze that has been swept away by the sea. A few minutes later the wind, which had become fitful, suddenly grew thickets and orange groves, and a soft fragrance stole out over the sea.

Ruby is too hot to handle, and Remo is being ordered to play fireman. But friendship comes first, even to a Master of Sinanju, and Remo is steaming mad. Mad enough, in fact, to walk out. It's out of the frying pan and into the fire because Chiun, deferring to tradition, refuses to quit CURE. And they both know that soon he could be hot on Remo's tail. But the heat's really on when Remo meets up with Sparky, a walking Molotov cocktail. New York firefighters are walking off the job, and an arson gang, with Sparky in tow, has decided to strike while the iron's hot. Unless they receive the ransom


Politics (Big Easy Bears Book 0)

In an early dialogue of Plato's, the Protagoras, Socrates asks Protagoras
      why it is not as easy to find teachers of virtue as it is to find teachers
      of swordsmanship, riding, or any other art. Protagoras' answer is that
      there are no special teachers of virtue, because virtue is taught by the
      whole community. Plato and Aristotle both accept the view of moral
      education implied in this answer. In a passage of the Republic (492 b)
      Plato repudiates the notion that the sophists have a corrupting moral
      influence upon young men. The public themselves, he says, are the real
      sophists and the most complete and thorough educators. No private
      education can hold out against the irresistible force of public opinion
      and the ordinary moral standards of society. But that makes it all the
      more essential that public opinion and social environment should not be
      left to grow up at haphazard as they ordinarily do, but should be made by
      the wise legislator the expression of the good and be informed in all
      their details by his knowledge. The legislator is the only possible
      teacher of virtue.

This combination of idealism and respect for the teachings of experience
      constitutes in some ways the strength and value of the Politics, but it
      also makes it harder to follow. The large nation states to which we are
      accustomed make it difficult for us to think that the state could be
      constructed and modelled to express the good life. We can appreciate
      Aristotle's critical analysis of constitutions, but find it hard to take
      seriously his advice to the legislator. Moreover, the idealism and the
      empiricism of the Politics are never really reconciled by Aristotle
      himself.

Aristotle's Politics, then, is a handbook for the legislator, the expert
      who is to be called in when a state wants help. We have called him a state
      doctor. It is o

The sophists are the real teachers of virtue.

Julius 'Jules' Beauregard has a problem. He is a werebear, but that's not the problem.
The problem is his anxiety because when he gets anxious it gets hard to control his bear. Jules' anxiety is a problem for other people as well. Billionaire businessman Brock Tandell is running for mayor in New Orleans. He is also a werebear and a member of Jules' clan. If Jules loses control Brock may just lose his shot at being mayor.
At a last minute business meeting at an airport coffee shop Jules meets the charismatic Giancarlo Carosa and his assistant, Gia. It's just business but it leaves Jules on edge


The Princess of the School

A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
Published by arrangement with Frederick A. Stokes Company
Printed in U. S. A.

I'm the heir. It goes without saying!"
Dulcie's pink face was looking puzzled.
"Do you mean to say if Grandfather were to

moment or two; then she ventured a comment.
"Wouldn't it be fairer to divide it?"
"Nonsense, Dulcie!" put in Lilias. "You

to buy at this wretched little shop in the village!"
"Except bacon and kippers!" grinned Roland.
"I can't knit with kippers!"
"Fact is, we're all bored stiff!" drawled

closing rapidly in.
[26]"What are we to do?" gasped Lilias, half-crying.
"We can't stay here all night!"
"Finish our prog and sleep in the car," suggested

stay all night at a hotel."
"But what about the car?"
"We must just leave her to her fate. There's

don't know?"
"I suppose we must have, somewhere!"
"How fearfully thrilling!"
"Um! I don't know that it's thrilling at all.

morning."
"Only two shillings!" commented Gowan.
"It will go no way!" pouted Bertha.
"Well, I can't help it. Miss Walters said

"Fair maiden, who in ancient song
Was wont to flout her swain,
I prithee be not always coy,
But turn your face again.
My heart is true, and it will rue,
That ever you should doubt me,
So sweet, be kind, and change your mind,
And don't for ever flout me."

"Cupid with his fatal dart
Shot me through and made me smart,
So I pray, before we part,
Kiss me once, and heal my heart!"

"Wee modest, crimson-tipped flower,
Thou'st met me in an evil hour;
For I maun gang far frae thy bower,
And leave thee greeting 'mang the stour.
But lassie, thou art no thy lane,
This heart is also brak in twain,
And like to burst with grief and pain
To think I'll see thee ne'er again."

"I have a little heart to let,
As nice as nice can be;
It's vacant just at present,
On a yearly tenancy.
It's quite completely furnished
With affection's choicest store,
Sweet nothings by the bushel,
And kisses by the score.
It sadly wants a te

The first book in the series of books by the author, a young woman named Bertha, is a story of a woman who has been a slave to her father. She is unable to find a job and is forced to live in a small town. Her mother, whose name is unknown, is an alcoholic and is unsure of her identity.

Suddenly, the orphaned Ingelton children have nowhere to live...
Cheverley Chase, their family home, has been left by their grandfather to a young cousin whom no one has ever met. When Cousin Carmel comes to Cheverley Chase, the Ingeltons make it quite clear that she is not welcome. But Carmel is surprisingly friendly and they find it hard to dislike her for long.
They may have lost Cheverley Chase, but it seems they have found a new friend...


Two Trips to Gorilla Land and the Cataracts of the Congo Volume 1

The second part is devoted to the Nzadi or lower Congo River, from the
      mouth to the Yellala or main rapids, the gate by which the mighty stream,
      emerging from the plateau of Inner Africa, goes to its long home, the
      Atlantic. Some time must elapse before the second expedition, which left
      Ambriz early in 1873, under Lieutenant Grandy, R. N., can submit its
      labours to the public: meanwhile these pages will, I trust, form a
      suitable introduction to the gallant explorer's travel in the interior. It
      would be preposterous to publish descriptions of any European country from
      information gathered ten years ago. But Africa moves slowly, and thus we
      see that the results of an Abyssinian journey (M. Antoine d'Abbadie's
      "Géodésic d'Ethiopie," which took place about 1845, are not considered
      obsolete in 1873.

It is not a little amusing to hear the complaints of the public that plain
      truth about the African has not been told. I could cite more than one name
      that has done so. But what was the result? We were all soundly abused by
      the negrophile; the multitude cared little about reading "unpopular
      opinions;" and then, when the fulness of time came, it turned upon us, and
      rent us, and asked why we had not spoken freely concerning Ashanti and
      Fanti, and all the herd. My "Wanderings in West Africa" is a case in
      point: so little has it been read, that a President of the Royal
      Geographical Society (African section of the Society of Arts Journal, Feb.
      6, 1874) could state, "If Fantees are cowardly and lazy, Krumen are
      brave;" the latter being the most notorious poltroons on the West African
      seaboard.

The hostilities on the Gold Coast might have been averted with honour to
      ourselves at any time between 1863 and 1870, by a Colonial Office mission
      and a couple of thousand pounds. I need hardly say what has been the case

The first book in the series of books by a writer of African descent, this book is a collection of essays on the history of Africa.

This is a pre-1923 historical reproduction that was curated for quality. Quality assurance was conducted on each of these books in an attempt to remove books with imperfections introduced by the digitization process. Though we have made best efforts - the books may have occasional errors that do not impede the reading experience. We believe this work is culturally important and have elected to bring the book back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide.


Silent House

too happy to place it and myself at your service
I have ample time at my command, and I shall only be

here."
"You are not one of them?" asked the man suddenly.
"One of whom?"
"One of those who wish to harm me?"
Denzil began to think he had to do with a madman,

the strange tenant of the Silent House.
[Pg 10]
CHAPTER II
SHADOWS ON THE BLIND
The landlady of Denzil was a rather uncommon

spectres live in it—that they do."
"Do you call Mr. Berwin a ghost?"
"No; nor nothing half so respectable. He is

he sees come from?"
"How do you mean, Miss Greeb?"
"They don't go in by the front door, that's certain,"

him, and each time Mr. Berwin has been alone!"
"Well! well! What of that?" said Denzil impatiently.
"This much, Mr. Denzil, that Blinders has gone

the square alone, how did his visitors get in?"
"Perhaps by the back," conjectured Lucian.
Again Miss Greeb shook her head. "I know

moonlight.
To his surprise he beheld Mark Berwin.
[Pg 20]
CHAPTER III
AN UNSATISFACTORY EXPLANATION
"Mr. Berwin!" cried Lucian, recognising the

shaking hand on the arm of Lucian. "Impossible!"
"I tell you it is so!"
"Come, then, and we will look for them," said

Berwin in a tremulous voice.
"But they have gone by this time!"
[Pg 21]"Gone!"
"Yes," said Denzil rapidly. "I rang the bell,

the house with me."
[Pg 28]"I see no necessity to do so."
"It will set your mind at rest regarding the shadows

The story of a young woman who is a widower and a snobby landlord.

In an old mansion in Cennethisar (formerly a fishing village, now a posh resort near Istanbul) the old widow Fatma awaits the annual summer visit of her grandchildren: Faruk, a dissipated failed historian; his sensitive leftist sister, Nilgun; and the younger grandson, Metin, a high school student drawn to the fast life of the nouveaux riches, who dreams of going to America. The widow has lived in the village for decades, ever since her husband, an idealistic young doctor, first arrived to serve the poor fishermen. Now mostly bedridden, she is attended by her faithful servant Recep, a dwarf--a


Lady into Fox

in our time, happening in Oxfordshire amongst our neighbours.
The only things which go any way towards an explanation of it

anything, than because I think they are of any worth.
Mrs. Tebrick's maiden name was certainly Fox, and it is possible

after her marriage when her husband persuaded her to it.
She was married in the year 1879 to Mr. Richard Tebrick, after a

violently and cried out, so that he instantly turned his head.
Where his wife had been the moment before was a small fox, of

husband, have pity on me for I am your wife."
So that with his gazing on her and knowing her well, even in

back again into the wife that was one flesh with him.
One fancy that came to him, because he was so much more like a

there to hold each other tight in one another's arms.
When it was dark he brought her in with infinite precautions,

with a labouring family about half a mile away.
Mr. Tebrick going downstairs pitched upon the parlour-maid.
"Janet," says he, "Mrs. Tebrick and I have had some bad news,

conversation with many exclamations from the cook.
When she came back with his tea, Mr. Tebrick said: "I shall not

house door, where she could smell the fox right enough.
There was a bright moon, so that Mr. Tebrick could see the dogs

reverie of woe that she heard nothing.
Fox Lying on Cushions
Old Nanny, though she was not expecting to find her mistress

your old Nanny knows you, it will all come right in the end."
But though she said this she did not care to look again, and

perhaps shot, like the dogs, for knowing the secret.
Mr. Tebrick had all this time gone about paying off his servants

did or not is more than I or anybody else can say.
In the morning when he woke up they had the place to themselves,

and then grow exceedingly fat and lose their offensive odour.
This appetite for grapes is so well confirmed by Aesop, and by

because he was very quick to catch her meaning and her answers.
"Puss, Puss," he would say to her, for calling her that had been

The first book in the series of novels by the author, "The Sense and Sensibility of a Woman's Life" is a story of sex and love. It is based on the novel of the same name by the same author, and is adapted from the novel by the writer, "Another Woman' s Story.".

A husband and wife venture outdoors for a walk in the Oxfordshire woodlands when the woman is suddenly, unaccountably, and irrevocably transformed into a fox. This simply told modern folktale offers a moving portrait of a man's devotion and a woman's struggle to maintain her humanity. Written in 1922 by a member of the Bloomsbury group, the tale features a strange but memorable combination of humor, fantasy, allegory, and realism in addition to enchanting woodcut illustrations.


No Surrender (Devlin Group, #3)

enjoyed, two gentlemen were pacing, talking as they walked.
The elder of the two was a man of, it might be, about fifty years; but

sharper contrast than that afforded by these two men.
"So you are really going to leave us already George?" asked the elder,

in a regretful tone.
The young man smiled.
"Already? I think I have made claim enough on your hospitality, Doctor.

friendship with your son. I shall never forget----"
"Pray do not thank me for that which has been a pleasure to myself,"

myself for the time being compelled to silence and obedience."
"For the time being?" echoed the Doctor, sarcastically. "I tell you, he

it is the way of all such despicable parvenus."
George shook his head gravely,
"You go too far. The Baron has many enemies, and I do not doubt that in

yet no one has ventured to speak his name with contempt."
"Well, I venture it then," said the Doctor, with sudden vehemence;

"and, truly, not without good grounds."
The young man looked at him in silence, then, after a pause of a

second, he laid his hand on his arm.
"Dr. Brunnow, forgive me if I ask you a question which may, perhaps,

"That surprises you, does it not?"
"Certainly. I had no notion of any such acquaintance between you."
"How should you? it dates almost half a generation back. In those days

losing my friend, I lost with him all faith in mankind."
He turned away in great agitation. Evidently the memory of that long

bygone event still shook the man's whole being to its depths.
"So there is some foundation for those reports which hint at a dark

now what manner of man he is."
"I thought so, I declare! There they are again in the thick of their

work already this morning, I see."
So saying, he walked up to a table covered with books and papers, which

stood at a little distance, and began turning over some written pages.
"Let that alone, Max," said his father, impatiently. "You will

poring over his books. You know I have my hands pretty full."
"Time might be found

The first book in the series of novels by the author, Max, is a collection of short stories written by Max and his wife, Mrs. Brunnow. The story is based on the novel of the same name by the same author, and is adapted from the novel by the writer, Max.

When sabotage downs their helicopter in the mountains, Gallagher finally gets the up-close and personal time he's been craving with fellow agent Carmen Olivera. After their rescue, the saboteur's trail sends the Devlin Group to Africa, where Carmen tries to revert back to her cold, professional self. Except Gallagher isn't ready to let her go. Not by a long shot.
As the Group gears up to rescue a young woman held hostage in the well-guarded compound of a guerilla warlord, Carmen tries to shove her long-time attraction for Gallagher--now jacked up by one mind-blowing night--back into its mental


Jorrocks' Jaunts and Jollities

till you are up also, and we'll be off together."
It is this union of the elegant courtesies and business

expressive intimation of the applicant's wants.
Footnote 1: (return)  The date of this description, it must be remembered, is put

who ventures to take a look at a strange pack of hounds.
In the meantime the fox, who has often had a game

them all, and let he whom the cap fits put it on.
If we look to the left, nearly abreast of the three

office badge, or an elderly cherub without wings.
Footnote 9: (return)  City—for having a pole run into one's rear.
The hackney-coach-and cab-men, along whose lines

hour, I should say it is the sun!" was the reply.
We have omitted to mention that this memorable day

agree that they never knew a bad 'oss with a rat-tail."
Footnote 11: (return)  A favourite joke among grooms when a horse is turned round

breeze wafted divers scraps of conversation to his ear.
What is that hound got by? No. How is that horse

general move ensued, and they left "the meet."
"Vere be you going to turn out pray, sir, may I inquire?"

to get a fall the first day they appear in anything new.
Many of the cits now gladly avail themselves of the

"but Squire——'s keeper has been before us for it."
"Now," said a gentleman in a cap, to another in a

thirteen shots at him had not yet touched a feather.
His dog was of the right sort—for Nosey at least—and

foot, and left the driver to right himself at his leisure.
Footnote 14: (return)  Doing a bit of resurrection work.
Ballenger looked rather queer when he heard they

was formed into a green-, the other into a gig-house.
The peals of a bright brass-handled bell at a garden-gate,

to know JORROCKS is indeed to argue oneself unknown."
"This is a case of no ordinary interest, and I approach

a fine day, I'll treat you with a jaunt to Margate."
"You are a regular old trump," said the Yorkshireman,

exertions he got into bed and very soon fell sound asleep.
Most of the inmates of the house wer

The first book in the series of novels by the author of "The Last Word" (1996), "The First Word" is a collection of short stories written by the writer of "Another Word" (1999).

What true-bred city sportsman has not in his day put off the most urgent business-perhaps his marriage, or even the interment of his rib-that he might "brave the morn" with that renowned pack, the Surrey subscription foxhounds? Lives there, we would ask, a thoroughbred, prime, bang-up, slap-dash, break-neck, out-and-out artist, within three miles of the Monument, who has not occasionally "gone a good 'un" with this celebrated pack? ***-excerpt from "Jorrocks' Jaunts and Jollities"


Lincoln's Use Of The Bible

manhood, and gave to America the matchless man.
In the Bible he found the truth for the ills of men, the secret for the

and the faithful friend when foes are near and other friends so far away.
We shall speak of what others have said concerning Lincoln’s use of the

influence of the Scriptures on his life and literature.
In Herndon’s Life of Lincoln the partner and President is portrayed as a

or in public document so frequently referred to divine aid.”
In the year 1901 President Roosevelt delivered an address before the

part of the crowning work of the century just closed.”
Lincoln often spoke and wrote of the value of the Bible. To Joshua F.

could one but take it according to truth.”
On July 4, 1842, in writing to his friend Speed of the service he had been

Lord’ is my text just now.”
It is stated on good authority that[Pg 13] after his election in 1860 he said to

the very [Pg 14]elegant copy of the great Book of God which you present.”
At Springfield he addressed the Bible Society and said: “It seems to me

they owe to their Creator, to themselves, and to their fellow men.”
In J. G. Holland’s Life of Lincoln he gives us the conversation with Mr.

right, for Christ teaches it, and Christ is God.”
In his Lyceum speech he speaks of the advantage of an education and being

of thy life: as I was with Moses, so I will be with thee.”
It has been said by those who pride themselves on having no faith in the

our heads, and he will not forget the dying man who puts his trust in him.”
Mr. William S. Speer wrote to Mr. Lincoln asking him to write a letter to

cannot but be valuable and fruitful.”
We find in his speeches and letters the Bible at his tongue’s end. In his

live.”
He was very fond of a poem called “Adam and Eve’s Wedding Song”:
“When Adam was created
He dwelt in Eden’s shade.

As Moses has recorded.
And soon a bride was made.”
Some thought that Lincoln was its author, but he said: “I am not the

served them more than four hundred years. Ma

The book is a collection of essays by Lincoln, Herndon, and Hernon.

Many of the earliest books, particularly those dating back to the 1900s and before, are now extremely scarce and increasingly expensive. We are republishing these classic works in affordable, high quality, modern editions, using the original text and artwork.
I have an original paperback edition. There is no isbn.


The Case of Jennie Brice

death, and to me the worst case of "shingles" I have ever seen.
My name is Pitman—in this narrative. It is not really

Pittsburgh; it is now the North Side.
I was glad to get back. I worked hard, but I made my rent and my

a pair of rubber boots, was her full aunt!
The flood and the sight of Lida both brought back the case of

and a lot of quarreling they did about it.
I knocked at the door at ten o'clock, and Mr. Ladley opened it.

had a cigarette. Even yet, the parlor carpet smells of them.
"What do you want?" he asked sharply, holding the door open

door. But I had got my toe in the crack.
"I'll have to have the piano moved, Mr. Ladley," I said. "You'd

promised to star him in it when it was finished.
"Hell!" he said, and turning, spoke to somebody in the room.
"We can go into the back room," I heard him say, and he closed

whisky, even when they were behind with their board.
"That's all very well," Mrs. Ladley said. I could always hear

"But what about the prying she-devil that runs the house?"
"Hush, for God's sake!" broke in Mr. Ladley, and after that they

had the colored supplement of a morning paper in his hand.
"What's the matter with the Ladleys?" he asked. "I can't read

farther, so the landlord will have to paper the parlor."
That was at three o'clock. At four Mr. Ladley went down the

hard enough to keep boarders in the flood district.
She did not answer to my knock, so I opened the door and went

around here rely on 'em every year to wash out their cellars."
"No, I'm not going away," she replied lazily. "I'm taking that

of sugar, and I gave it to him.
"Where is Mr. Ladley?" I asked.
"Gone out to see the river."
"I hope he'll be careful. There's a drowning or two every year

went. Then I'd have given a good bit to have him back again."
She was standing in front of the dresser, fixing her hair over

her ears. She turned and looked at me over her shoulder.
"Probably Mr. Pitman was a man," she said. "My husband is a

it to one spindle

The story of a young woman who is a snobby, sexy, and affluent man. She is the daughter of sanity and savageness, and the mother of feisty, tame, and debauchery.

A blood-stained rope and towel, and a missing tenant, convince Mrs. Pittman that a murder has been committed in her boarding house. But without a body, the police say there is no case. Now, it's up to Mrs. Pittman to ferret out the killer. For as the landlady, she has the perfect excuse to do a little snooping--and the key to Jennie's apartment.


The Hieroglyphics

which those branches beat angrily upon the glass.
The room seemed always dark. I suppose that the house had been built in

he held both the Key and the Lamp in his hands.
It is a confession of mysticism, but I incline to think that he was

there is the subtlest and most beautiful melody in the world.
I can scarcely say whether he wrote much himself. He would speak of

care to talk of literature from the commercial standpoint.
It is perhaps needless to say that I consulted my friend before

arrangements have been made for the dissemination of literature."
You don't see the immense importance of that? You surprise me. Let us go

written, or printed thought into two great genera?
Well, as you may have guessed, I have my solution, and I like it none

on top of the political pamphlet.
I will not argue the matter at the moment; I would merely caution you

you may not agree with me.
But before we argue the merits of my own literary solvent, we might very

would say that because it is good, it is therefore Burgundy?
I am not quite sure that I am not muddling up two things which are in

between the two, especially as "interesting" is somewhat ambiguous.
And you think it a paradox, then, to maintain that the power of exciting

conclusion as to its æsthetic value.
I confess all this seems A B C to me, though I see [17]you are still

called ecstasy. Listen to this:
"It was a freak of fancy in my friend (for what else shall I call it?)

stamp and imprint to the matter of life.
I really think then that we have disposed of perhaps the most generally

sensational kind].
Therefore, the "Moonstone" has the mark of fine literature.
You note the "paltering" with the word, its use now in one sense, and

ingredient into a dish with the view of obtaining a particular flavour.
Now, then, let us apply all this to our matter. I daresay you have often

"artifice"; while "art" will be retained and set apart for higher uses.
And now as to "emotion." Here, I think, you ought to

The epoch of the revolution in the United States is a time when the world was awash with a wave of political and economic revolutions. But the world is now a shattered world, and the world has been re-enslaved by the savagery of the past.

Fiction. "In THE HIEROGLYPHICS, a novel(la) in prose poems, Michael Stewart tackles nothing less than a radical revision of creation myths that comments darkly on the ancient stories we have received & the future we may be facing. Stewart's language is spare & haunting, the allusions resonating, in this work that 'reminds us how pale are the achievements of men'" Wendy Barker."


The Heart Of A Dog

Copyright, 1921, 1922, 1923 and 1924,
By George H. Doran Company
Copyright, 1920, by The Curtis Publishing Company
Copyright, 1921, by International Magazine Company
Harpers’ Bazar
THE HEART OF A DOG
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

IIMy book is dedicated to
MY FRIEND
MARK SAXTON
THE ONLY BOY WHOM THE CONSERVATIVE SUNNYBANK
COLLIES HAVE HONOURED WITH THEIR
FRIENDSHIP, AND WHOM THEY HAVE ACCEPTED
AS A LOVED PLAYFELLOW

or in rock-clefts when blizzards made the going bad.
It was the season when foxes as a rule run solitary.

they found it more profitable to hunt together than alone.
Only once or twice in their winter’s foraging did they

have struck horror to the heart of any scientific breeder.
For it was merely a woodchuck hole in an upland

That was all the home-making done by the pair.
Then, of a windy night, just before the first of April,

foxes, he could not be induced to touch any bird of prey.
That night he foraged again; in spite of having outraged

afield and had reserved the nearby farm for later emergencies.
Now the emergency appeared to call for such a visit

them, nor why one and all of them had ceased to nurse.
Meantime, her mate was drifting like an unobtrusive

nose and by hearing that the dog was no longer in there.
He was correct in this, as in most of his surmises. Not

the lee of a rock that stood beside the hole.
Whitefoot dropped the collie pup in front of his mate;

that man is the dread foe of the beast.
Gaily as the two might play in the moonlit grass, the first

the pair in the burrow were not sought out nor harried.
Back at the Logan farm there was bewilderment at the

mother and Dick together could have imparted it to him.
By example and by swift punishment in event of disobedience,

incredible cunning of her race and the fear of man.
By the time his legs could fairly support him on the

19at him, ravening and raging in defence of her suckling.
Then crept the influx of spring food into the valley and

to

The first book in the series of books by the author, "The foxes" is a collection of short stories and essays by the writer. It is based on the novel of the same name by the same author.

WITH A NEW INTRODUCTION BY ANDREY KURKOV
A rich, successful Moscow professor befriends a stray dog and attempts a scientific first by transplanting into it the testicles and pituitary gland of a recently deceased man. A distinctly worryingly human animal is now on the loose, and the professor's hitherto respectable life becomes a nightmare beyond endurance. An absurd and superbly comic story, this classic novel can also be read as a fierce parable of the Russian Revolution.


The Wheel of Fortune

proved her curse and held her in bondage.
And now for Mr. Coubrough's propositions.
(1) The movement is intended to serve

Work is more excellent than idleness;
The body's life proceeds not, lacking work.
There is a task of holiness to do,
Unlike world-binding toil, which bindeth not
The faithful soul; such earthly duty do
[pg 094]Free from desire, and thou shalt well perform
Thy heavenly purpose. Spake Prajapati
In the beginning, when all men were made,
And, with mankind, the sacrifice—"Do this!
Work! Sacrifice! Increase and multiply
With sacrifice! This shall be Kamadhuk,
Your 'Cow of Plenty', giving back her milk
Of all abundance. Worship the gods thereby;
The gods shall yield ye grace. Those meats ye crave
The gods will grant to Labour, when it pays
Tithes in the altar-flame. But if one eats
Fruits of the earth, rendering to kindly heaven,
No gift of toil, that thief steals from his world."
Who eat of food after their sacrifice
Are quit of fault, but they that spread a feast
[pg 095]All for themselves, eat sin and drink of sin.
By food the living live; food comes of rain.
And rain comes by the pious sacrifice,
And sacrifice is paid with tithes of toil;
Thus action is of Brahma, who is one,
The Only, All—pervading; at all times
Present in sacrifice. He that abstains
To help the rolling wheels of this great world,
Glutting his idle sense, lives a lost life,
Shameful and vain.

[pg 148]Count.Test.Wage per pound.Approximate twist per inch.Rounds on 4 feet hank frame.Number of ends in an inch of reed.Number of double ends in an inch.Rates of weaving per square yard.Rs. A. P.
6Warp0  4 0109624 to 2818 to 220  4  0
6Weft0  3 08".........
9Warp0  6 01214426 to 3220 to 240  4  6
9Weft0  4 610".........
12Warp0 10 01419230 to 3422 to 260  5  0
12Weft0  8 012".........
16Warp0 12 01625634 to 3824 to 280  5  6
16Weft0 10 013".........
20Warp1  0 01832040 to 4428 to 320  6  0
20Weft0 13 015".........

The first book in the series of books by the author, "The Last Book of the Novel" is a collection of short stories and essays by the writer. It is based on the novel of the same name by the same author, and is adapted from the novel's first edition.

Oxmoon, the rambling old mansion on a sprawling estate in Wales, has been for generations, the dream, the downfall, and the destiny of the wealthy Godwin family. Discover how these extraordinary people were caught on life's wheel of fortune, how the family legacy of madness, murder, and doomed romance, begun with 19th century Gwyneth Godwin's scandalous affair with sheep farmer Owen Bryn-Davis, pursue all of the Godwins who live and die for the memories and the beauty of Oxmoon.


Stormy, Misty's Foal

causeway. Then the people on the island are wholly isolated.
But most of the time Chincoteague enjoys the protection of a neighbor

him to sleep overtime."
"Me neither," Paul said, "even when it's cloudy."
The old man and the boy went thudding in their sock feet to the back

having a colt than if she was a queen birthin' a crown prince."
"Well, she is!" Paul exclaimed. "She's a movie queen."
"Yup," Grandpa joined in. "Name me another Chincoteague pony who's a

it's made a heap o' difference to Pony Ranch."
Paul nodded vehemently. "Yes, Grandma. You know we sell more ponies

to build her a fine stable and...."
"And I'll never hear the end of it!" Grandma grumbled. "Our place is

colt—land o' mercy!—they'll be thicker'n oysters in a pie."
Paul and Grandpa were out the door. Grandma's sputtering bothered them

no more than a mosquito before the fuzz comes off its stinger.
A faint light had begun to melt the darkness and there was a brim of

down from his bed in the pickup truck and came galloping to meet them.
"Hi, Skipper!" Paul gave him a rough-and-tumble greeting, but his

place."
"So?"
"Well, if Misty should be bad off...."
"What in tarnation you gettin' at?"
"Maybe we'd ought to buy a goat, just in case...."
"In case what?"
"Misty couldn't give enough milk for her colt."
The old man pulled himself loose from Paul. "Get outen my way, boy.

colts have a better chance of living than March ones."
The old man stopped in mid-stride. "It just ain't fittin' fer colts

clumped off toward the corncrib, muttering and shaking his head.
Paul skinned between the fence rails and ran toward the made-over

had been at midnight, and the night before, and the night before that.
"Surely it'll come today," Paul said to her, trying to hide his

soon as school's out, I got to build us more stalls. Maureen can help."
"Help what?" came a girl's voice.

Water them ponies afore they die o' thirst."
Most of Grandpa's herd were still away on winter pasture at Deep Hole

The story of a young girl who is a pony and has been a part of the Pony Ranch for years. She is smitten with the horse, and is captivated by the horse's owner, the horse-owner, and the horse.

A foal, born in the aftermath of a great storm, and her famous mother help raise money to repair the storm damage on Chincoteague Island and restore the herds of wild ponies on Assateague Island.


Dodo Wonders--

[Pg 9]
CHAPTER I
DODO DE SENECTUTE
Dodo was so much interested in what she had herself been saying, that

discussion on free will.[Pg 10]
Edith, it may be remarked, had arrived at her house in town only to find

subject. You could have stayed in Germany, but you chose not to. There!"
Edith had not nearly finished telling Dodo about these concerts, in

to an artist."
"No, dear; tell me," said Dodo, still looking at her cigarettes.
"Then you must allow me to speak. It was crammed, of course, and the air

are far the most intense nation there is. First I played——"
"I thought you conducted," said Dodo.
"Yes; we call that playing. That is the usual term. First I played the

have heard a pin drop."
"Did it?" asked Dodo.
"No: I dropped my baton, which sounded like a clap of thunder. Then came

was getting[Pg 14] old and anæmic. I won't be a canary after all!"
Edith shouted with laughter.
"A mind like yours is such a relief after living with orderly German

perceptions and one's wisdom."
Dodo considered this.
"Yes, I daresay it is so up to a point," she said, "though I seem to

afraid of in getting old!"
"But you're not afraid of dying?" asked Edith incredulously.
"Good gracious, no. I'm never afraid of certainties; I'm only afraid of

realise I'm fifty-five. I tell myself I'm fifty-five——"
"Four," said Edith; "I'm six."
"And that I was young last century and not this century," continued Dodo

like Mummie."
"I am lost without spectacles," said Edith.
"But I'm not; it was my spectacles that were always lost. And then I

it!" cried Dodo.
Edith had finished tea, and was waiting, rather severely, for a pause.
"But that's not all of you, Dodo," she said; "there is a piece of you

that's not a child. I want to talk to that."
Dodo nodded at her.
"Yes, I know it's there," she said, "and we shall come to it in time. Of

the knowledge of what a lovely time I have had. That's my plan, anyhow."
Dodo had got quite serious and absently dipped the last two or thr

The first book in the series of books by the author, Edith, is a collection of short stories and poems. It is based on the novel of the same name by the same author.

Dodo was so much interested in what she had herself been saying, that having just lit one cigarette, she lit another at it, and now contemplated the two with a dazed expression. She was talking to Edith Arbuthnot, who had just returned from a musical tour in Germany, where she had conducted a dozen concerts consisting entirely of her own music with flaring success. She had been urged by her agent to give half a dozen more, the glory of which, he guaranteed, would completely eclipse that of the first series, but instead she had come back to England. She did not quite know why she had done so: h


Titan (Gaea, #1)

the Titan.
A French critic says of the "Titan":—
"It is a poem, a romance; a psychological résumé, a satire, an elegy,

with vehement aspirations after the unknown and impossible?...
"In augmenting the sum of its desires, will it augment the sum of its

suffering?
"Will it not be the giant that scales heaven—
"And that falls crushed to death?
"Titan!"
In giving his romance the title of "Titan," says the same writer, "it is

the principal personages of the drama.
"By the side of the coldness and the vast plans of Don Gaspard de

in the course of the work, he does not cease to achieve."
The author whom we have thus copiously quoted alludes to Jean Paul's

deviate a single minute from the character the author has given them."
The fate of his Titanide, Linda, created a loud remonstrance in Germany;

the homely phrase) is ever in the right place.
It has seemed necessary to give a few notes, and only a few. Properly to

meet them out of the bosom of May.[Pg xii]
But, as they touched the first flowers of earth, and flung only rays of

upon the earth, and every spirit becomes a human being!"
So they became human beings and sisters, and were called Louisa,

Ride to Blumenbühl 384
FOURTEENTH JUBILEE.
Albano and Liana 405
FIFTEENTH JUBILEE.
Man and Woman 432
SIXTEENTH JUBILEE.
The Sorrows of a Daughter 481

jewels, can brighten and improve only by cutting hollow.
As he drew nearer and nearer, the island attracted him, as one world

scutcheon of the Borromæans, stands on the upper terrace of the island.
After the death of his mother his father transplanted him from the

longer be reached by their pots and shears.
And now, when he shall have returned from the island, he is to pass from

this time, his father had strictly forbidden him.
And to-morrow he sees that father for the first time![Pg 4] He must have

stand his ground, tramples down larks'-eggs and ears of corn.[Pg 5]
I think that the corner which I have thus snipped off from the

Christian name, w

The Titan is a story of the titan's journey to the eloquent and mystical realm of the universe. It is based on the novel of the same name by the author, Jean Paul, who wrote it in 1897.

It begins with humankind's exploration of a massive satellite orbiting Saturn. It culminates in a shocking discovery: the satellite is a giant alien being. Her name is Gaea. Her awesome interior is mind-boggling--because it is a mind. A mind that calls out to explorers, transforming all who enter.


The Story of a New York House

PAGE
"I thumped him"14
"It's a monstrous great place for a country-house, Mr. Dolph"18
There was only one idea, and that was flight28
The light flickered on the top of the church spire31
(By F. Hopkinson Smith.)
They hesitated a second, looking at the great arm chair37
"Stay there, sir—you, sir, you, Jacob Dolph!"41
After awhile he began to take timorous strolls47
Jacob Dolph the elder ... stood on his hearth rug51
And then he marched off to bed by himself, suffering no one to go with him55
In quiet morning hours ... when his daughter sat at his feet77
"Mons'us gran dinneh, seh!"79
"All of a sudden, chock forward he went, right on his face"84
He heard the weak, spasmodic wail of another Dolph88
"Central American," said the clerk106
"Looks like his father," was Mr. Daw's comment109
O'Reagan of Castle Reagan118
"If it hadn't been for the Dolphs, devil the rattle you'd have had"120
"I know'd you'd take me in, Mist' Dolph," he panted131
"Have you got a nigger here?"133
Abram Van Riper makes a business communication.141
And so she set his necktie right, and he went144
Looking on his face, she saw death quietly coming upon him149
Finial152

he heard the distant sound of hammers.
"What is it?" he asked, nervously.
"They are boarding up some of the streets,"

on the arms with nervous fingers.[38]
"I shall never go back there," he said again.
"Of course you know best, sir," said young

And then he marched off to bed by himself, suffering no one to go with him.
And then he marched off to bed by himself, suffering no one to go with him.

unnerve most men.
"It was heroic," said Dr. F.
Madam Des Anges bowed her gray head approvingly.
"I think," she said, "his conduct shows him

than her flame-colored satin dress.
She attacked him in a vehement whisper.
"Van Riper, what are you doing? I'd almost

us, Van Riper, is more than I know, I vow."
But all she could get out of Van Riper was:
"The old harridan! She'll remember my

name this year or two t

The story of Jacob Dolph, a young man who is a snobby and a rebellious teenager, is told in a very revealing way.

First published in 1887 by the American novelist, poet and short story writer who was also editor of Puck periodical.


Greener Than You Think (Classics of Modern Science Fiction 10)

country or station—are Albert Weener. As I am Albert Weener.
[1]
ONE
Albert Weener Begins
1. I always knew I should write a book.

the things which have happened to me in that time.
It all began with the word itself.
"Grass. Gramina. The family Gramineae. Grasses."
"Oh," I responded doubtfully. The picture in my mind was

only of a vague area in parks edged with benches for the idle.
Anyway, I was far too resentful to pay strict attention. I had

barrel and on it was placed the tremendous drum of her torso.
"A little more work," she rumbled, "a few interesting problems

Luckily it will do it itself."
"I don't catch."
"Look about you—what do you see?"
I glanced around and started to say, a measuring glass on a

interest to me? No, no ... it was fantastic, out of the question.
A different, more practical setup now.... At least there

product. Yours should be sold to householders for their lawns."
"Should it? Well, I say it shouldnt. Listen to me: there are

to encourage imbeciles to grow grass in a desert.
"My method is the second one. I want no more backward

could be no repeat business? I wasnt tying myself to it for life.
All that remained was to find myself a customer. I tried to

I walked over a twinkling greensward and rang the bell.
"Good afternoon, madam. I can see from your garden youre

aid of anything else, natural or artificial."
"My gardener takes care of all that."
"But, madam—"
"There is a city ordinance against unlicensed solicitors.

madam, I'm sorry to say, no less than a disgrace."
She was a woman beyond the age of childbearing, her dress

I took a good breath and wound up for the clincher.
I won't say she was an easy sale, but afterall I'm a psychologist;

be the same as putting it in the water, wouldnt it?
To come to this practical conclusion under the brunt of the

see for yourself, provided of course you wet it down properly."
"In a week youll be far gone with my five dollars," diagnosed

than she had in her restriction t

A remark about the book: "The Book of the Dead is a collection of short stories, novels, and short stories. It is based on the novel of the same name by the author of the first novel, "The Word of the Day." The book is adapted from the novel by the writer of the second novel, and is reprinted in the form of a companion book.

Ward Moore's classic novel "Greener Than You Think" posits a world with Bermuda grass running out of control -- choking out every other plant and destroying the food supply of animals and humanity alike. Originally published in 1947.


The History of Astronomy

the places of the planets among the stars can be predicted.[9] He says that whoever is not satisfied with this

The same subject was again proposed for a prize which was shared by Lagrange[1] and Euler, neither finding a solution, while the latter

equatoreal calms is free from spots. But it was R. C. Carrington[4] who, by his continuous observations at Redhill, in

which have not been accounted for by known planets; and Le Verrier[3] has stated that an intra-Mercurial planet or ring of

the proper motions of Arcturus and Sirius. In 1738 J. Cassinis[6] showed that the former had moved five minutes of arc

Maskelyne measured many proper motions of stars, from which W. Herschel[8] came to the conclusion that these apparent motions are

carried on the work at Dorpat. But it was first to Savary,[13] and later to Encke and Sir John Herschel, that we owe

Latterly the best work on double stars has been done by S. W. Burnham,[14] at the Lick Observatory. The shortest period he found

Procyon respectively. In 1844, in a letter to Sir John Herschel,[15] he attributed these irregularities in each case to the

dark body approaching us at the rate of 550 miles a second[19] was traversing a cold nebulous atmosphere, and was

The spectral structure of the star is a simple elliptical shape with a radial velocity of.

Packed with color photographs, this compelling volume chronicles the history of astronomy.
This extraordinary book traces the stories of humans interacting with the endless wonders of the night sky, beginning with the earliest superstitions and continuing through to the birth and development of the science of astronomy.
The authors, both expert astronomers, researched 29 locations worldwide, from Beijing's ancient observatory to the observatory in Puerto Rico that searches for alien radio signals. They also interviewed 26 of the world's most esteemed astronomers, including Stephen Hawking.
Com


Other People's Money and How the Bankers Use It (The Bedford Series in History and Culture)

in this world, do you not?”
He answered:
“Pretty nearly.”
RAMIFICATIONS OF POWER
But wealth expressed in figures gives a wholly

if we would attain the New Freedom.
HOW SHALL EXCESSIVE CHARGES BE STOPPED?
The Pujo Committee recommends, as a remedy

securities, no such need exists.
WHERE THE BANKER SERVES NOT
It needs no banker experts in value to tell us

the necessary funds to construct and operate.
“The motor-car business was the same.
“When a few gentlemen followed me in my

the sacrifice of a single stockholder or bondholder.
* * * * *
Investment bankers had no place on the

Beach & Lynn,—a passenger road 13 miles long.
THE NEW HAVEN MONOPOLY
The rise of the New Haven Monopoly presents

on the average, only $10,000,000 a year.
THE NEW HAVEN BANKERS
Few, if any, of those 121 companies which the

who do not know anything about it.”
AVOCATIONS OF THE OLIGARCHS
The New Haven System is not a railroad, but

liberated and developed.
* * * * *
President Wilson has said wisely:
“No country can afford to have its prosperity

The book is a collection of short stories, poems, and essays by the author.

A key document in the Progressive era, Other People's Moneyconveys a sense of moral outrage and political anger over the costs of the industrialization of the United States on traditional social and political values. A thorough introduction and questinos for considerations accompany the full text of Louis Brandeis's 1914 work.


Nothing to Do

Augustus Fitz-Herbert, as all are aware,
Having crossed the Atlantic, and got a moustache on,
Likewise being son of a known millionaire,
Stands of course on the very top round of the fashion.
Being taught to consider himself, from his birth,
As one of the privileged ones of the earth,
He cherishes deep and befitting disdain[6]
For those who don't live in the Fifth Avenue,
As entirely unworthy the notice or thought
Of the heir of two millions and nothing to do.
He calls them canaille, which I'm credibly told
Is the only French word which he caught when away;
And though, in my case, if I might be so bold,
I should say it scarce paid one for half a year's stay,
The heir of two millions and nothing to do,[7]
Who lives in a palace in Fifth Avenue,
As a matter of course, is no fitting comparison
For the heir of an inkstand and something to do,
Who lodges up stairs, in the house of Miss Harrison.

There is something that puzzles me, let me confess—
Why these rare old antiques wear so modern a dress!
Unless, like the comet which now reappears,
For the first time, I think, within hundreds of years,
So fashions in dress run through regular courses,
And strictly obey the mechanical forces.[18]
Let me hereby suggest that some almanac-maker,
In his very next issue but one, undertake a
Brief record of Fashions that may reäppear
In the course of the next or the following year.
With what eager eyes would our wives read, be sure,
About—this—time—expect—a—new—style—of—coiffure,
A black lace Fichu under dark satin loops;
Or, more ominous still, a recurrence of hoops!
Attended, perhaps, by the brief intimation,
Based upon strict and exact calculation,[19]
That the first would enjoy but a limited reign, as
It was looked for next year in far-distant Uranus;
While the last had intended to visit us sooner,
But tarried a while with the ladies of Luna.

From his journal I venture below to record
A single impression received while abroad:
"June 7th, we r

The first edition of the book, "The Last Days of Augustus Fitz-Herbert," is a collection of short stories and essays by the author. It is based on the novel of the same name by the same author.

This is an illustrated children's book featuring a family of oppossums. Frances is bored, and complains to his father that he has nothing to do. His father gives him a 'something-to-do' stone, and tells him to put it in his pocket and rub it when he can't think of anything to do. This works so well that he teaches the technique to his little sister.


The Long Journey (Other Side of The River #6)

we few that are left."
"But I am afraid," said little Sabina.
"Afraid of what?"
"Of the river and the great sea."
"Thousands have sailed down the river and

than once to the bottom of the hill."
"What is the matter?" asked Conrad.
"You will hear in good time," answered

Margareta in a patronizing way.
[Pg 11]
"Where is father?"
"In the house."
"If anything had happened he would tell

it seemed like Heaven.
"I cannot go," cried Magdalena.
"Oh, father, let us stay," begged Margareta.
Before John Conrad could answer, a cheerful

the old dog's neck.
"I cannot leave you! I cannot leave you!"
Then he felt himself lifted up and put

under mighty trees.
"If we might only stay here!" they sighed.
John Conrad shook his head.
"Here we should not find rest."
Once more the Germans disembarked, wondering

a whisper of her father.
John Conrad smiled.
"We might see her riding in her chariot."
Then John Conrad grew sober. As they

They have begun to send some of us to Ireland."
John Conrad shook his head.
"This whole land is sick. Across the ocean

important things might depend.
"Conrad," he began, "while I am gone—"
"Oh, father, take me with you! I beg, take

The course of fate had changed!
A few times John Conrad spoke to his son.
"Are you afraid?"
"Not I."
"Pray God that this strange way may lead

to be frightened.
"Where will they take us, father?"
John Conrad's voice trembled.
"They are taking us into the Queen's palace,"

sat nearest to her.
"He speaks well, my lord."
[Pg 67]
"He speaks from the soul, Madam."
Now the Queen conversed rapidly and in a

could draw from our own stores."
Governor Hunter leaned forward eagerly.
"It will be time to think of wine when Her

to hold themselves in readiness."
Now Conrad breathed a long sigh.
"The lad looks at me with a question in

whom they please and kill and rob."
"Are we sure to meet them?" asked Conrad.
"They come out from the shore like

quickly!"
The sailor who came to his aid laughed.

The story of the sailor and his family is told in this book.

Separated from Daniel by half a continent and possibly death, Luise must create a life for herself in Shumanovka, across the river from China. Her dreams of Daniel convince her to continue praying even though everyone believes she is deceiving herself. Are her prayers in vain? Somewhere in an isolated Khanty camp, an unknown man awakes with little memory of his past, and yet there are those who know him. Stalin's reign of terror reaches the farthest corners of his republic, but he cannot reign in the hearts of the faithful.


A Christmas Accident and Other Stories

Page
A Christmas Accident1
After—the Deluge32
Memoir of Mary Twining67
A Postlude99
The "Daily Morning Chronicle"139
Hearts Unfortified177
Her Neighbor's Landmark210

have interest enough to care."
"No," said Lucy, soberly, "we didn't."
"And I care just as much as I ever did

always used to come to see us off."
"Of course he did," said Lucy.
"Do you know, I'm rather glad his

very root of all successful athletic exhibitions."
She shrugged her shoulders a little.
"Oh, well, if you like to air your powers

what I spend."
He looked her over with approval.
"You spend it well," he asserted.
"I have to," she returned, "or else

West."
"She is pretty."
"Very good goods."
"Is she as nice as Tommy?"
"No. There are not many girls as

nearly right as Tommy."
"Except me."
"Well, perhaps, except you."
"But then, I'm not many."[189]
"No, separate wrapper, only one in a

opened her eyes wide.
"What was it?"
"Nothing but your heart."
She considered the matter seriously.
"Was it really?"
"It was really."
"And I've lost," she pondered aloud.
"And you've lost."
She raised her eyes with a glance in[190]

did not follow his suggestion.
"Oh, no," she said, "you have succeeded."
"And that means—what?"
"I told you I was sitting among the

Reuben.
"Yare."
"Got some calves in there, I see."
"Wal, yes; been doin' some tradin'."
Reuben nodded. "Ain't any news, I

dramatic.
"I declare, 'twas too bad," said Reuben.
"'Twas too bad," said Stephen.
"Is the horse all right?" asked Cynthia,

wonder if they was right."
"Mostly are," said Stephen.
[235]
Miss Trumbull's New Story
——————
Mistress Content Cradock
AN HISTORICAL TALE OF NEW ENGLAND

1 vol. 12mo., cloth. Illustrated. Price, $1.00.
——————
A charming colonial romance.—The Congregationalist.
It is in a word a fascinating, strong, well-told story.—The

Church Review.
[237]
A
Cape Cod Week.
BY
ANNIE ELIOT TRUMBULL.
12mo, cloth, 170 pages. $1.00.
——————
The keenness, quickness, and acutene

The first book in the series of novels by American author and illustrator John Sullivan, this is the first book to be published in the United States. It was published in 1898, and is the second edition of the series.

Annie Eliot Trumbull (1857-1949) was a sociable poet, playwright and novelist. She was once a part of the younger generation of Mark Twain's Hartford circle and whose fame had been the greatest at the turn of the century. Her works include: Matchmakers (1884), St. Valentine's Day (1892), White Birches (1893), The Green-Room Rivals (1894), A Masque of Culture (1894), A Christmas Accident (1897), A Cape Cod Week (1898), The Wheel of Progress (1898), Mistress Content Cradock (1899) and Life's Common Way (1903).