Regeneration (World of the Whispers #1)

{v}
{vi}
{vii}
To My Mother
PREFACE
This volume is the outcome of a course of five lectures on “Regeneration

treated from this point of view in the present volume.
If it should appear that at times I have gone out of my way to attack

importance of the questions involved may be an excuse for the criticism.
If I may be pardoned a further word of personal import, I should like to

bearing than simply as a treatment of the problems of regeneration.
I wish to acknowledge my many obligations to Professor H. F. Osborn and

General Introduction
 PAGE
Historical Account of the Work on Regeneration of Trembley, Bonnet, and Spallanzani1
Some Further Examples of Regeneration6
Definition of Terms19
CHAPTER II

The External Factors of Regeneration in Animals
The Effect of Temperature26
The Effect of Food27
The Effect of Light29
The Effect of Gravity30
The Effect of Contact33
The Effect of Chemical Changes in the Environment35
General Conclusions36
CHAPTER III

Regeneration and Liability to Injury
Examples of Supposed Connection between Regeneration and Liability to Injury92
Regeneration in Different Parts of the Body97
Regeneration throughout the Animal Kingdom103
Regeneration and the Theory of Natural Selection108
CHAPTER VI

Regeneration of Internal Organs. Hypertrophy. Atrophy
Regeneration of Liver, Eye, Kidney, Salivary Glands, Bones, Muscles, Nerves, Brain, and Cord of Vertebrates111
Examples of Hypertrophy115
Theories of Hypertrophy118
Atrophy123
Incomplete Regeneration125
CHAPTER VII

Self-division and Regeneration. Budding and Regeneration. Autotomy. Theories of Autotomy
Review of Groups in which Self-division occurs142{xi}
Division in Plane of Least Resistance144
Review of Groups in which Budding occurs. Relation of Budding to Regeneration149
Autotomy150
Theories of Autotomy155
CHAPTER IX

Grafting and Regeneration
Examples of Grafting in Hydra, Tubularia, Planarians, Earthworms, Tadpoles159
Grafting Pieces of Organs in Othe

The epoch of regeneration is a time of great change.

Regeneration is Tessa Rose's debut Young Adult Fantasy!
Darcey Brooker is a teenage girl, who lives with her aunt because her mother died when she was only ten years old. She thought she was an ordinary girl, but that all changed when an ugly demon tried to take her away from her school. Thankfully for her, a young Whisper Fighter saved her by the name of Theo Lockhart. He was handsome and dangerous, with the ability to conduct some sort of magical power with his mind! It was all strange to her, but Darcey discovered that this was her birth right, as she is also a Whisper.
Darcey now has to le


Eve (Eve, #1)

into decay, and no barges came so far up the river.
The crags on the Devon side of the Tamar rise many

the steep side of the hill, and danced into the Tamar.
Seventy or eighty years ago this house was in a better

child, that gave so slight token of its presence.
All at once the door opened, and a man stood in the

came.
‘Are you Ignatius Jordan?’
‘I am,’ he answered with an effort.
‘And I am Ezekiel Babb. I am come for my daughter.’
Ignatius Jordan staggered back against the wall, and

here last week. Where is she now?’
‘She is gone,’ said Jordan in a low tone.
‘Gone!—her child is here. When will she return?’
‘Return!’—with a sigh—’never.’
‘Cursed be the blood that flows in her veins!’ shouted

its lies, its laughter. Gone back to the players and dancers.’
Jordan nodded; he could not speak.
‘Dead to every call of duty,’ Babb continued with a

could not break off the yoke. I married.’
[6]
The child in the cradle began to stir. Jordan rocked it

tenderly, and it dozed off in his arms.
‘A girl?’ asked Babb. Jordan nodded.
‘Another Eve—a third Eve?’ Jordan nodded again.

sealed. I was a fool. I married that dancing girl.’
He was silent again, and looked moodily at his pipe.
‘I have let the fire die out,’ he said, and rekindled as

after the play actors or not I never inquired.’
‘Did you not go in pursuit?’
‘Why should I? She would have run away again.

and she became my wife.’
‘You said that you did not marry her.’
‘No, not exactly. This is a place quite out of the

the veins and rolled down into the ocean, and lost—lost—lost!’
Jordan sprang from his seat with a gasp and a stifled

thrown up its tiny arms.
‘See,’ he exclaimed, ‘the child hangs also!’
Ignatius Jordan seized the babe, snatched it away from

threatened blow.
‘You—you met her on the Raven Rock?’
‘I met her there twice, and I was to have met her

rose to his feet and held out his hand.
‘You will lend me the money, two thousand pounds?’
‘I will lend you fifteen hundred.’
‘I wi

The story of a young woman who is a snobby, sexy, and a rebellious teenager.

The year is 2032, sixteen years after a deadly virus--and the vaccine intended to protect against it--wiped out most of the earth's population. The night before eighteen-year-old Eve's graduation from her all-girls school she discovers what really happens to new graduates, and the horrifying fate that awaits her.
Fleeing the only home she's ever known, Eve sets off on a long, treacherous journey, searching for a place she can survive. Along the way she encounters Caleb, a rough, rebellious boy living in the wild. Separated from men her whole life, Eve has been taught to fear them, but Caleb sl


Narrative of the Captivity and Restoration of Mrs Mary Rowlandson

The sovereignty and goodness of GOD, together with the faithfulness of his
      promises displayed, being a narrative of the captivity and restoration of
      Mrs. Mary Rowlandson, commended by her, to all that desires to know the
      Lord's doings to, and dealings with her. Especially to her dear children
      and relations. The second Addition [sic] Corrected and amended. Written by
      her own hand for her private use, and now made public at the earnest
      desire of some friends, and for the benefit of the afflicted. Deut. 32.39.
      See now that I, even I am he, and there is no god with me, I kill and I
      make alive, I wound and I heal, neither is there any can deliver out of my
      hand.

On the tenth of February 1675, came the Indians with great numbers upon
      Lancaster: their first coming was about sunrising; hearing the noise of
      some guns, we looked out; several houses were burning, and the smoke
      ascending to heaven. There were five persons taken in one house; the
      father, and the mother and a sucking child, they knocked on the head; the
      other two they took and carried away alive. There were two others, who
      being out of their garrison upon some occasion were set upon; one was
      knocked on the head, the other escaped; another there was who running
      along was shot and wounded, and fell down; he begged of them his life,
      promising them money (as they told me) but they would not hearken to him
      but knocked him in head, and stripped him naked, and split open his
      bowels. Another, seeing many of the Indians about his barn, ventured and
      went out, but was quickly shot down. There were three others belonging to
      the same garrison who were killed; the Indians getting up upon the roof of
      the barn, had advantage to shoot down upon them over their fortification.
      Thus these murderous wretches went on, burning, and destroying before
      them.

Oh the

The book is a collection of essays by the author, including his most recent work, "The Story of the Indians" (published in 1675).


The Development of Embroidery in America

Made by Sioux Indians Facing 12
PIPE BAGS OF PORCUPINE QUILLWORK. Made by Sioux Indians 12
MAN'S JACKET OF PORCUPINE QUILLWORK. Made by Sioux Indians 14
MAN'S JACKET OF PORCUPINE QUILLWORK. Made by Plains Indians 14
CREWEL DESIGN, drawn and colored, which dates back

in 1640, by Madam Susanna, wife of Sylvester Eveleth 22
RAISED EMBROIDERY ON BLACK VELVET. Nineteenth century American 22
QUILTED COVERLET made by Ann Gurnee 26
HOMESPUN WOOLEN BLANKET with King George's Crown embroidered

home at Fort Lee, N. J., where Washington was entertained 26
CHEROKEE ROSE BLANKET, made about 1830, of homespun wool with

Deerfield, Mass. 32
BED COVERS worked in candle wicking 32
SAMPLER worked by Adeline Bryant in 1826, now in the possession

of Anna D. Trowbridge, Hackensack, N. J. 50
SAMPLER embroidered in colors on écru linen, by Mary Ann Marley, [viii]

by Sarah Ann Smith, of Smithtown, L. I. 54
SAMPLER worked by Nancy Dennis, Argyle, N. Y., in 1810 56
SAMPLER worked by Nancy McMurray, of Salem, N. Y., in 1793 56
PETIT POINT PICTURE which belonged to President John Quincy Adams,

in Bethlehem, and now owned by her granddaughter 64
MORAVIAN EMBROIDERY from Louisville, Ky. 66
LINEN TOWELS embroidered in cross-stitch. Pennsylvania Dutch

in Baltimore in 1814 76
FIRE SCREEN embroidered in cross-stitch worsted 78
FIRE SCREEN, design, "The Scottish Chieftain," embroidered in

of Canandaigua, N. Y. 78
EMBROIDERED PICTURE in silks, with a painted sky 80
CORNELIA AND THE GRACCHI. Embroidered picture in silks,

at the age of sixteen while at Mrs. Peabody's school 80
CAPE of white lawn embroidered. Nineteenth century American 84
COLLARS of white muslin embroidered. Nineteenth century American 84
BABY'S CAP. White mull, with eyelet embroidery.

Nineteenth century American 86
BABY'S CAP. Embroidered mull. 1825 86
COLLAR of white embroidered muslin. Nineteenth century American 86
EMBROIDERED SILK WEDDING WAISTCOAT, 1829. From the

of Mrs. George Coe 88
EMBROIDERY

The earliest known work of the aristocrats, the earliest works of the American Revolution, are still in use today.

Excerpt: ...is a purely emblematic figure of an emotion, rather than a real mourner. The shading of the monument was generally done in India ink, so that the actual embroidery was confined to the trunk and long 78 branches of weeping willow, and the dress of the figure, and the ground upon which willow and monument and figure stand. The faces being always hidden by the handkerchief, and a tinted satin serving for the sky, the execution of these memorial pictures was comparatively simple. They certainly bear an undue proportion to those happy family portraits where mother and children, or husba


The Mandarin's Fan

effect on the Ainsleighs."
"They have been very unlucky since," said Rupert gloomily.
"Not a bit of it--not a bit. The curse of Abbot Raoul, didn't

bed."
"Plenty have died in their beds since."
"But have lost all their money," retorted Rupert.
"It's better to lose money than life," said Tidman evasively.
"I'm not so certain of that Major. But you should talk with Mrs.

Pettley about Abbot Raoul's curse. She believes in it."
"And you Ainsleigh?"
Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "We certainly seem to be most

unlucky," said he, declining to commit himself to an opinion.
"Want of brains," snapped the Major, who was one of those men

curse, or prophecy, or whatever you like to call it----"
"I call it rubbish," interpolated the sceptic.
"Well doubting Thomas, it runs like this,--rude enough verse as

before. But haven't the Ainsleighs always married poor girls?"
"Some did, but then they had money. It must be a poor Ainsleigh

grandfather were both poor, but they married rich brides."
"And what became of the cash?"
"It went--I don't know how--but it went."
"Gold turns to dry leaves in the hands of fools," said Tidman

fourth line? how can you get gold from ashes?"
Young Ainsleigh rose and began to pace the terrace. "I'm sure I

such a marriage the fourth line will be made clear."
"I shouldn't hang on to that poetry if I were you, Ainsleigh.

he likes. My advice to you is to marry a dollar heiress."
Rupert looked savage. "I love Miss Rayner, and I marry her, or

just jump at you."
"I love Olivia Rayner," repeated Ainsleigh doggedly.
"But the obstacles my dear Don Quixote," argued the Major

companion, the Pewsey cat."
"Why do you call her a cat--the harmless creature."
"Because she is a cat," said Tidman sturdily, "she'd scratch if

old Miss Wharf does. Then there's Lady Jabe--"
"Oh heavens," said Rupert and made a wry face.
"You may well say that. She's a bullying Amazon of uncertain

marry a clerk in a tea merchant's firm."
"But he's nephew to Lad

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.

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.comwhere you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: CHAPTER III. MISS WHARF AT HOME. The best houses in Marport were situated on the cliffs. They stood a considerable way back and had small plots of ground before them, cultivated or not according to the taste of those who owned them. Some of these gardens were brilliant with flowers, others had nothing but shrubs in them, presenting rather a sombre appearance, and a few were bare sunburnt grass-plots, with no adornm


The Story of Mankind

Here the stairs came to an end and the ladders began. And after the first
      ladder (a slippery old thing which made one feel his way with a cautious
      foot) there was a new and even greater wonder, the town-clock. I saw the
      heart of time. I could hear the heavy pulsebeats of the rapid seconds—one—two—three—up
      to sixty. Then a sudden quivering noise when all the wheels seemed to stop
      and another minute had been chopped off eternity. Without pause it began
      again—one—two—three—until at last after a warning
      rumble and the scraping of many wheels a thunderous voice, high above us,
      told the world that it was the hour of noon.

On the next floor were the bells. The nice little bells and their terrible
      sisters. In the centre the big bell, which made me turn stiff with fright
      when I heard it in the middle of the night telling a story of fire or
      flood. In solitary grandeur it seemed to reflect upon those six hundred
      years during which it had shared the joys and the sorrows of the good
      people of Rotterdam. Around it, neatly arranged like the blue jars in an
      old-fashioned apothecary shop, hung the little fellows, who twice each
      week played a merry tune for the benefit of the country-folk who had come
      to market to buy and sell and hear what the big world had been doing. But
      in a corner—all alone and shunned by the others—a big black
      bell, silent and stern, the bell of death.

Then darkness once more and other ladders, steeper and even more dangerous
      than those we had climbed before, and suddenly the fresh air of the wide
      heavens. We had reached the highest gallery. Above us the sky. Below us
      the city—a little toy-town, where busy ants were hastily crawling
      hither and thither, each one intent upon his or her particular business,
      and beyond the jumble of stones, the wide greenness of the open country.

Since then, whenever I h

The eponymous novel of the same name by the author of the first volume of the "The Adventures of the Dutch" series, "The Tale of the Germans" is a story of the adventures of the empathetic and naive young man who has been a part of the world for many years.

The Story of Mankind, van Loon's renowned classic--originally published in 1921--was the winner of the first John Newbery Medal. With warmth, simplicity and wisdom, The Story of Mankind sweeps from the origins of human life to contemporary times. Drawings and maps.


Under Lock and Key: The Experiment (Under Lock and Key, #1)

alight from the railway carriage, to hear him say:--
"'Jasmin, my good fellow, I find that it will not do for me to part

with me. I will make your excuses to M. Platzoff.'
"'Right you are, sir,' said I. 'Where shall I tell cabby to drive to?'
"'To the Salisbury Hotel, Fleet-street.'
"Captain Ducie was such an undoubted West-end swell that I was rather

obey, and not to question his behests.
"'Get into the cab: I want to talk to you,' said he. 'On one or two

fellow.'
"It is very kind of you to say so, sir,' I answered respectfully.
"'Now, for certain reasons which I need not detail, I do not want my

remember Mr. Stonor from the country?'
"'I shall not forget it, sir--you may trust me for that.'
"'Yes, if I had not felt that I could trust you, I should not have

brought you so far, nor have taken you so deeply into my confidence.'
"Father! for the first time these dozen years your son blushed.

condemned to stay in bed for at least a week to come.
"There is no occasion to weary you with too many details. A week--ten

to submit its contents each morning to a most painstaking search.
"After the sixth day there was a decided improvement in the condition

way that I was enabled to build up my suspicions into a certainty.
"If he had made himself master of the Diamond, he had done so

may suit you best.' All the same, I had no intention of going.
"What I intended was to bid farewell to Captain Ducie, take a cab to

I left him fully satisfied that he would do it.
"A cab was ordered, my modest portmanteau was tossed on to the roof,

Euston station in less than five hours after I had left it.
"My first object was to thoroughly disguise myself: no very difficult

Meanwhile I kept carefully out of the captain's way.
"At 8.35 p.m. my cab was following that of the captain down the

which the cabman handed over to one of the porters.
"'Where shall I label your luggage for, sir?' asked the man: it was

too large to be taken into the carriage.
"The captain hesit

The story of a young man who is a scheming, ruthless and adroitly manipulative man. He is the only one who can be trusted by his own family.

Saedie Parks is home from college with just one hope: that there will be snow in the mountains before Thanksgiving is over. She is the daughter of a well renowned lab scientist who goes inexplicably insane. They become caught in the grip of an inthinkable act of insanity as she's forced to stay and face his gruesome crime in order to attempt to save her brothers and sister from what he's become. After that their lives become changed forever as they are thrust into a world of medical experimentation and government corruption.
Under Lock and Key: The Experiment is a gripping Psychological Thrill


813

[Pg 3]
813
CHAPTER I
THE TRAGEDY AT THE PALACE HOTEL
Mr. Kesselbach stopped short on the threshold of the sitting-room, took

his secretary's arm and, in an anxious voice, whispered:
"Chapman, some one has been here again."
"Surely not, sir," protested the secretary. "You have just opened the

That bag was shut. It is now open."
Chapman protested.
"Are you quite sure that you shut it, sir? Besides, the bag contains

nothing but odds and ends of no value, articles of dress. . . ."
"It contains nothing else, because I took my pocket-book out before we

I tell you, some one has been here while we were at lunch."
There was a telephone on the wall. He took down the receiver:
[Pg 4]"Hallo! . . . I'm Mr. Kesselbach. . . . Suite 415 . . . That's right.

second . . . Ah, here it is! Number 822.48. . . . I'll hold the line."
A moment later he continued:
"Are you 822.48? I should like a word with M. Lenormand, the chief of

Chapman, the secretary, slept, looked out on the Rue de Judée.
[Pg 5]Adjoining this bedroom, a suite of five rooms had been reserved for Mrs.

staying, and join her husband the moment she heard from him.
Rudolf Kesselbach walked up and down for a few minutes with a thoughtful

five rooms reserved for Mrs. Kesselbach was locked and bolted.
"I can't understand it at all, Chapman. Time after time I have noticed

certainly been touched. . . . And yet how was it possible? . . .
"It is not possible, sir!" cried Chapman, whose honest, placid features

your own man, Edwards, has the only duplicate. Do you trust him?"
"Of course I do! . . . He's been with me for ten years! . . . But

He must not go down, in future, until we come back."
Chapman gave a slight shrug of the shoulders. There was no doubt about

and I have some serious work to do."
The serious work lasted for a few minutes, during which Mr. Kesselbach

this pin did not come here of itself."
[Pg 7]"Certainly not," replied the secretary. "It came here through me."
"What do you mean?"

The saga of the 'Secretary of the Palace' is a story of the life and times of the first-century Frenchman, who was a member of the Royal Family.

When one of Arsene Lupin' victims is found dead in a way that implicates the wily criminal, he insists on heading the police search for the real murderer. The mystery involves finding a package of letters once written to Bismarck, locating a clock on which the number 813 has significance, as well as causing a reigning emperor to make several journeys incognito. Murders by the dozens, suicide and mild forms of torture are warp and woof of the plot.


One Day More

To right, two yellow brick cottages belonging to Captain Hagberd, one
      inhabited by himself the other by the Carvils. A lamp-post in front. The
      red roofs of the town in the background. A sea-wall to left.

CURTAIN RISES DISCLOSING CARVIL and Bessie moving away from sea-wall.
      Bessie about twenty-five. Black dress; black straw hat. A lot of
      mahogany-coloured hair loosely done up. Pale face. Full figure. Very
      quiet. Carvil, blind, unwieldy. Reddish whiskers; slow, deep voice
      produced without effort. Immovable, big face.

Carvil (Hanging heavily on Bessie's arm). Careful! Go slow! (Stops;
      Bessie waits patiently.) Want your poor blind father to break his
      neck? (Shuffles on.) In a hurry to get home and start that
      everlasting yarn with your chum the lunatic?

Carvil. Well, then, go steady with a poor blind man. Blind! Helpless! (Strikes
      the ground with his stick.) Never mind! I've had time to make enough
      money to have ham and eggs for breakfast every morning—thank God!
      And thank God, too, for it, girl. You haven't known a single hardship in
      all the days of your idle life. Unless you think that a blind, helpless
      father———-

Carvil (Snarls). It's mine, perhaps. Can I help being blind? You
      fret because you want to be gadding about—with a helpless man left
      all alone at home. Your own father too.

Carvil (Viciously). He's a lunatic, our landlord is. That's what he
      is. Has been for years—long before those damned doctors destroyed my
      sight for me. (Growls angrily, then sighs.)

Carvil. (Grimly). Don't everybody know how he came here from the
      North to wait till his missing son turns up—here—of all places
      in the world. His boy that ran away to sea sixteen years ago and never did
      give a sign of life since! Don't I remember seeing people dodge round
      corners out of his way when he came along High Street. Seeing him, I tell
      you.

The story of the sailor who was blind and unable to see, is a tale of a man who had to make his own way through the wilderness.

This captivating and poignant 50-page digital original short story is a prequel to New York Times bestselling author Aprilynne Pike's Life After Theft--a haunting novel about the true cost of paying for one's mistakes.
Most teenagers would do anything to have Kimberlee Schaffer's life. But beneath the beauty, the wealth, and the popularity, Kimberlee has a terrible problem: an uncontrollable, insatiable need to steal. Over the years, she's learned to hide her secret from those closest to her, but now it's completely consuming her life--and Kimberlee is afraid that if she doesn't find a way to


Madeleine

her lap. She had a remarkable gift for absolute stillness.
[6]
At the end of a quarter of an hour, she went to her

truthfully.
‘Have you seen the Coigneux and the Troguins?’
‘We have much commerce with the Troguins.’
‘And has not the désir de parroistre been flourishing

the good wood of life, as if it were a great maypole.’
‘And I am clearly on the other side!’ cried Madame

give the note of the evening’s intimacy.
‘What are you pondering?’ he said at last.
‘’Twould be hard to say, Jacques.... I’m exceeding

after a pause, watching her curiously.
Madeleine blushed, and answered nervously:—
‘Yes, ’tis good for the spleen—the doctor told me

I sometimes have when things swell and swell.’
‘When things swell and swell?’
‘Yes, ’tis what I call my Dutch dream, for it ever[30]

talk? However, she went back with a sigh of resignation.
After a few minutes she said with a little excited

ill-favoured, tedious little imp.’
‘No, Jacques!’
‘A scurvy, lousy, bombastic——’
‘Oh! Jacques, forbear, for God’s sake!’
‘Provincial——’
‘Oh! Jacques, no more, I’ll scream till you hold

she rushed to Jacques and flung her arms round his neck.
‘I am furiously grateful to you!’ she cried. ‘I felt

should be father and daughter.)
Julie’s eyes grew rounder and rounder at each word.
‘Jésus, Madeleine Troqueville! what a fine lady

small mole on her cheek, she had not seen it before.
Then came such a scolding as she had never before

more than ever inclined to give in to her in everything.
The doctor had advised her to continue taking an

at first this brought to her a sense of very great peace.
Her favourite of the Port-Royal books was La

running till the process made her feel sick and dizzy.
She opened the book again. This time her eyes fell

Mademoiselle Troqueville,
Petite Rue du Paon,
Above the baker Paul,
At the Sign of the Cock,
Near the Collège de Bourgogne.

on Thursday.
Blessed Saint Magdalene, make me shine on Thursday.
Blessed Virgin, Mother of Our Lord

The epoch of the French Revolution is a time when the world was in turmoil. The world was a place of fear, and the world had to be re-enforced. But the world is now a world of danger.

Although Madeleine Bates and Sophia Parkinson were both eighteen years old, the contrast between their two lives could not have been greater. Sophia, spoilt pretty daughter of Helsdon's richest mill owner, lived a life of petted indulgence at Mount Royd, the Parkinson home. Madeleine - daughter of a tyrannical and bigoted father who worked in the Parkinson mill - spent her time either at chapel, or working a fourteen hour day as housemaid at Mount Royd, a victim of Sophia's whims and occasional spitefulness. But Madeleine - who beneath her obedient and dutiful exterior was volatile, strong-wil


Clean Break: The Story of Germany's Energy Transformation and What Americans Can Learn from It

Orella Simms of Tampa, to whom he was now engaged.
To put it plainly, Oliver was until the moment of his Great

would he go, and to whom could he turn in emergency?
Such was the character and condition of Oliver Watts when his newly

acquired animals that forced him to breach his isolation.
Mr. Furnay called at the Watts place in his town car, driven by a

Champ's predictable bid for revenge.
"Convulsions? What sort of animal is it, Mr. Furnay?"
"A polar bear," said Mr. Furnay.
"Polar bear!" echoed Oliver, and in his shock of surprise he dropped a

where even the pets...."
He broke off sharply as Oliver turned from the cage.
"I'm truly sorry, Mr. Furnay," Oliver apologized. "If there's anything

I can do ... a dressing for Bivins' leg—"
Mr. Furnay gathered himself with an effort. "It is nothing, a scratch

sound. Mr. Furnay's bear, he thought, in all probability had worms.
The Furnay town car purred away, leaving Oliver to marvel at his own

Oliver by this time was in too great a hurry to stop and retrieve it.
His Aunt Katisha might spoil the whole adventure on the instant with a

stir of purring and growling and pacing.
Oliver gaped when his eyes dilated enough to show him the real extent

operatic effect, through two full octaves.
Oliver stared. "I'm here to doctor the sick bear," he said.
"Oh, a native," the girl said in English.
Obviously she was trying to keep her voice within the tonal range of

unfamiliar weakness of the knees.
"May I help?" she said.
She might, Oliver replied. She could have had as readily, he might

shrugging off his Aunt Katisha's certain disapproval.
The young lady, it seemed, came from a foreign country whose name was

she was as a consequence very lonely.
She was, incredibly, a trainer of animals.
"Not of such snarling fierce ones as yours," she said, with a little

"but of my own gentle beasts, who are friends."
Her name was a startling combination of soprano sounds that might have

earth temblor.
His client reori

The story of a young man who is a polar bear and a local explorer. He is unable to find his way back to the world, and he is unsure of what to do.

This book tells the story of Germany's energy transformation and what Americans can learn from it. How is the European Union's biggest and most powerful economy making a clean break with coal, oil and nuclear energy? It is something most Americans would say is impossible, but already 25 percent of Germany's energy comes from renewable sources. It is on track to reach 80 percent by 2050, and some experts say it could reach 100 percent by then.
Germany's energiewende, or energy transformation, is really a very American story that revolves around self-reliant individuals, a responsive democracy,


Murphy (F.I.S.T.S. #2)

TO
THAT VAST HOST IN THE HUMAN FAMILY
THAT LOVES DOGS
AND THAT INCLUDES WITHIN ITS RANKS
THE GOOD, THE GREAT, AND THE INSIGNIFICANT
THESE PAGES
ARE RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED
BY ONE OF
THE COMMON RANK AND FILE

“Can such fidelity be all for naught?
Is virtue less true virtue that it beats
In a hound’s faithful breast? No, Graf, the thought
Of thy pure, true and faultless life defeats

All doubt. No! Virtue lives for ever, and the same,
Whether in man, or in his faithful friend
Who looked but could not speak his love. The flame
That warmed thy faithful heart can never end

In dark oblivion. If not a Soul
Is thine, at least is Life. The same great hand
Made thee and us; but where upon the scroll,
At day of Judgment, shall be found to stand

A human soul so faithful to the end,
So true as thou hast been? God’s great design
Awaits both thee and us. Good-bye, sweet friend,
And may our lives be simply true as thine.”

“Hast thou some charm, which draws about thee thus
The hearts of all our house—even to the beast
That lacks discourse of reason, but too oft,
With uncorrupted feeling and dumb faith,
Puts lordly man to shame?”

“Mine is no narrow creed;
And He who gave thee being did not frame
The mystery of life to be the sport
Of merciless man. There is another world
For all that live and move—a better one!
Where the proud bipeds, who would fain confine
Infinite goodness to the little bounds
Of their own charity, may envy thee!”

“There are men both good and wise who hold that, in a future state,
Dumb creatures we have cherished here below
Will give us joyous greeting as we pass the golden gate.
Is it folly if I hope it may be so?”

The first book in the series of books by author and illustrator John Sullivan, this is the first book to be published by the publisher. It is the second book to feature the work of Sullivan and his wife, and the third to feature a new book by Sullivan.

Novellette (17,853 words)
Genre(s): Science Fiction, Erotica, Military, BDSM, Gay
Sometimes when it seems like it's too late, the right person comes along and opens your eyes...
Murphyis the continuing story of a D/s relationship between two Space Marines who found each other in the midst of hopelessness and misfortune.
Sarge and his newly minted squad travel across the galaxy on a top-secret mission that could help win the war. However, to Murphy something about the mission stinks, and it's not just the planet they've landed on.


The Boy with the U.S. Census

sweeps over the land and the call for volunteers is abroad.
In hazardous scout duty into these fields of danger the Census Bureau

census-taker, I think I'd like to apply for this district."
The old Kentucky mountaineer, who had been steadily working his way

of the page, and eyed the boy steadfastly.
"What for?" he queried.
"I think I could do it better than almost anybody else in this section,"

census business seems kind of inquisitive some way to me."
"But it seems to me that it's the right kind of 'inquisitive.'"
"I reckon I hadn't thought o' there bein' more'n one kind of

so, I s'pose it's all right."
"But don't you think the questions are easy enough?" asked the boy.
"They may be easy, but thar's no denyin' that some of 'em are mighty

unpleasant to answer."
"But if they are necessary?"
"Thar's a-plenty o' folks hyeh in the mount'ns that yo' c'n never make

see how knowin' their private affairs does the gov'nment any good."
"But you don't feel that way, Uncle Eli, surely?"
"Wa'al, I don' know. Settin' here talkin' about it, I know it's all

sat down an' read those tables an' tables o' figures?"
"Not for fun, perhaps," the boy admitted. "But it isn't done for the

that the census isn't at the back of."
"I don't see how that is. They don't ask about a man's politics, I

seat is based on their information."
"I suppose you'd say the same about schools, too."
"Of course," the boy answered.
"But I hear the Census Bureau this year wants all sorts of information

about the crops an' the number of pigs kept an' all that sort o' stuff."
"Don't you think the food of all the people of the United States is

accountant business I learned a lot from him."
"Your dad, he was a great hand fo' figures, so I s'pose yo' come by it

naturally enough. An' you're jes' sure you've passed?"
"I haven't heard one way or the other," said Hamilton, "but I'm pretty

business of the gov'nment, an' I'd let them do it."
"But I'm hoping to work right with the government a

The first book in the series of books by author and journalist John A. Reilly, which was published in 1897, is a collection of short stories about the lives of the people who lived in the United States. It is based on the story of the first book of the series, "The Greatest Generation," which was written by the author and reporter, John A-P.

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic, timeless works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.


The Cliff-Dwellers

soot-flakes and the woof of damp-drenched smoke.
The explorer who has climbed to the shoulder of one of these great

cliff-climbing for the frail of physique and the pressed for time.
The tribe inhabiting the Clifton is large and rather heterogeneous.

certain home offices in mind,
"Now, why can't our people do as much for us?"
Indeed, there is cause enough for envy in that small square of velvety

is quite unlikely to hurry you out before you have finished.
"Don't be in such a drive," he will perhaps say to you; "stay and smoke

trim neatness of their own clothes and conversation.
It may be guessed that this snug haven of refuge has been established

the West as a mild form of punishment and exile.
"It does give me a little elbow-room, though."
This is the silent acknowledgment that Walworth sometimes makes to

said that his stomach was in Chicago, while his brains were in Boston.
Walworth, considering his family training and traditions, is

faces—on the looker's own level—gives the hour as half-past ten.
"Well, we are living up on Pine Street, Mr. Ogden," he is saying; "just

can promise to be the first on the ground when you call on us there."
He is running his fingers over the edges of several little sheets of

but the mail is light. Ferguson will look after it. Sit down again."
The visitor, thus urged, sank back into the chair from which he had

expressed a fair amount of self-reliance and any amount of hope.
"And how are you finding the West Side?" Walworth pursued. "I don't

smiled a little wistfully. "About the only people so far that do."
"Well, I have heard that there are some pretty good streets over

two of them with a confirmatory slam.
"Yes, here we are," she seemed to imply.
In Mrs. Walworth Floyd our young man met a lean and anxious little

What's in a name? Sometimes nothing; sometimes a whole biography.
"I have been telling Mr. Ogden," said Walworth, "that he ought to

Eastern pilgrim to our little what-you-may-call-it—oasis, you k

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

The Cliff-Dwellers is a scathing portrayal of greed and capitalism in nineteenth-century Chicago.
The Cliff-Dwellers was the first American realist novel to use the rapidly developing city of Chicago as its setting. Henry Blake Fuller's depiction of social climbing and human depravity among the "cliff-dwelling" residents and workers in the new Chicago skyscrapers shocked readers of the time, and influenced many American writers that followed. With its frenetic pace and many interrelated stories, it remains a compelling document of Chicago's social history, as well as a searing indictment of mo


James Madison

From the original painting by Gilbert Stuart in the possession of
Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, D. D., LL. D., Charleston, S. C.

he made a mistake as to the date does not seem to have been discovered.
It was accidental that Port Conway was the birthplace of Madison. His

tavern or a horse-race than in the discharge of his clerical duties.
As Mr. Madison had only to say of his immediate ancestors—which seems

letter, now for the first time published:[6]—
Montpellier, August 9, 1833.
Dear Sir,—Since your letter of the 3d of June came to hand, my

to be so.
With friendly respects, James Madison.
Lyman C. Draper, Lockport, N. Y.
The genealogical statement, it will be observed, does not go farther

lost votes because he would do nothing to encourage it in others.
[19]The country lost a good representative, but their loss was his gain. The

apprehensions might have been changed to despair; for he writes:[20]—
"Our army threatened with an immediate alternative of disbanding or

the enemy from every part of the United States."
[21]But nobody knew better than he the difficulty of raising funds except by

was not merely diligent but absorbed in the duties of his office.
He was more faithful to his constituents than his constituents sometimes

carrying the mails or for Indian supplies.
Relief, however, came at last. An appeal was made in a letter to the

debtors." It is to be hoped it came without further chiding.[4]
The young member was not less attentive to his congressional duties

victory, and in the hope that the cause was gained at last.
All the letters have this preternatural solemnity, as if each was a

Gates probably would have done it if he could.
To avert this threatened danger; to contrive[30] taxation that should so

Congress was not to be moved by a little thing of that sort.
The attitude of his own State sometimes embarrassed him in the

proposed that Mr. Jay should be reinstructed accordingly.
Mr. Madison was not in the least shaken in his con

The first book in the series of books by the author, "The History of the American Civil War" is a biography of the Civil War. It was written by the writer and published in 1833.

James Madison led one of the most influential and prolific lives in American history, and his storyalthough all too often overshadowed by his more celebrated contemporariesis integral to that of the nation. Madison helped to shape our country as perhaps no other Founder: collaborating on the Federalist Papers and the Bill of Rights, resisting government overreach by assembling one of the nations first political parties (the Republicans, who became todays Democrats), and taking to the battlefield during the War of 1812, becoming the last president to lead troops in combat.


A Woman's War

know that she had made the man’s home dear to him.
A standard-lamp was burning in the hall, the light

enough as she picked up an empty glass.
“James—”
There was mirth in the voice, but her eyes showed a

from him with a set jaw and an awakened manhood.
Then for the first time in life he learned the value of a

sorrow.
“Kate, how can you bear this!”
“Bear it, dear?”
“Finding so much of the beast in me. My God, I

breast comforts a child at night.
“I am glad you have told me—all.”
“Yes—all.”
“It helps me, it will help us both.”
“I ought to have told you long ago,” he said.
“But then—”
“I thought that I had killed the thing, and I loved you,

thoughts.
“Kate, you must help me to fight this down—”
“Yes.”
“For their sakes, the children—for yours. I think that

“Ah—I am glad I know, dear, I can do so much.”
James Murchison bent down and drew her into his arms,

of their children playing.
“Shall we go up to them?” she said, at last.
“Yes”—and she knew by his face that he was praying,

will do me good. God bless you—”
And they kissed each other.
CHAPTER III
Mrs. Betty Steel sat alone at the breakfast-table

manner and an incisive cut of the mouth and chin.
“Any news in this hub of monotony?”
His wife put down the paper, and called back the dog

himself in the compilation of statistics.
“Murchison not there, I suppose?” he asked.
“The wife—quite sufficient.”
Her husband smiled, showing the regular white teeth

take it.”
“Not worth the trouble.”
Mrs. Betty’s dark eyes condemned the assertion.
“Dirt’s money in the wrong place, as they say in trade,

am?” he said, passing his cup over the red tea cosy.
“I suppose the woman gushes for him, just as I work

my wits for you.”
“The Amazons of Roxton.”
“We live in a civilized age, Parker, but the battle is no

speak are winged for a final end.”
“You are clever enough, Betty,” he confessed.
“We both have brains”—and she gave an ironical

Street.”
“And with the wife?”
“That is my affair.”
Such lif

The epoch of the first novel of the same name, "The Book of the Dead," is a story of a young woman who has been swept up in the world of the supernatural. She is smitten by the mysterious and beautiful man she has been searching for. But when she discovers that her husband is dead, she is tempted to take revenge on him.

A story of a young MD in the 1890s struggling with his addiction to alcohol and the support of his wife and family.


The Passenger from Calais

the Lucerne sleeping-car of the Engadine express.
Room! When I reached the siding where this train de luxe was drawn up,

alone. [10]
"Not very busy?" I said, with a laugh to the conductor.
"Parbleu," replied the man, polyglot and cosmopolitan, like most of

"I never saw the like before."
"I shall have a compartment to myself, then?"
"Monsieur may have the whole carriage if he wishes—the whole five

of something special in this obvious scarcity of coming tips.
"The train will run, I hope? I am anxious to get on."
"But assuredly it will run. Even without monsieur it would run. The

and a porter laden with light luggage.
As they came up I discreetly withdrew to my  [11] own compartment, the

but very sweet voice, and in excellent French.
"Places?" echoed the conductor. "Madame can have fifty."
"What did I tell madame?" put in the official who had escorted her.
"I don't want fifty," she replied, pettishly, crossly, "only two. A

she swung it to and fro rhythmically was that of a nurse and child.
"If madame prefers, the maid and infant can be accommodated apart,"

man, not at all the other sort—you know the sort I mean."
Now while I accepted the compliment to myself, I was greatly mystified

by the allusion to the "other sort of man."
"You think we can go on, that it's safe, even in this empty train? It

unobserved among a lot of people."
"But then there would have been a lot of  [13] people to observe us; some

one, perhaps, who knew you, some one who might send word."
"I wish I knew who this passenger is. It would make me much easier in

me shiver. To turn thief! Me, a common thief!"
"Stealing is common enough, and it don't matter greatly, so long as

neither at the doing or the memory of evil deeds.
Now the conductor came up and civilly bowed them towards their

more at leisure.
"A daughter of the gods, divinely tall and most divinely fair."
The height and slimness of her graceful figure enhanced by the

chestnut hair, gathered into a knot under

The Lucerne sleeping-car of the Engadine express. Room! When he wishes, with the whole five of something special in this obvious scarcity of coming tips.

After a rough crossing from Dover, Colonel Basil Annesley finds he is the only passenger on the Engardine Express from Calais to Lucerne. That is, he is the only passenger until a mysterious woman shows up at the last minute to book a compartment for her servant, an infant and herself. A conversation overheard through the open window of his sleeping compartment only deepens the mystery. The woman is afraid that someone might be following her. Who is after her? What is her secret? And is she a criminal or a victim? Find the answers to these questions and others on a thrilling railway journey sp


Red Pottage

owner, leaning back with his hat tilted over his eyes.
Trip-clip-clop went the horse.
A great deal of thinking may be compressed into a quarter of an

hour, especially if it has been long eluded.
"I will get out," he said again to himself with an impatient

has ever guessed it."
How could any one have guessed it?
He remembered the day when he had first met her a year ago, and

fervently, as the hansom came suddenly to a stand-still.
In another moment he was taking Lady Newhaven's hand as she

leaping before him from one footman to another.
"Mr. Richard Vernon."
Lady Newhaven's wide blue eyes looked vague. Her hand hesitated.

scarred face and crooked mouth, was unknown to her.
Lord Newhaven darted forward.
"Dick!" he exclaimed, and Dick shot forth an immense mahogany

Vernons on my wife's list. Have you the card with you?"
"Rather," said Dick; "always take the card with me since I was

little. "But the end seems to have been unfortunate."
"Not at all," said Dick, watching the new arrivals with his head

the night before. Here is the card."
Lord Newhaven glanced at it attentively, and then laughed.
"It is four years old," he said; "I must have put you on my

or two back with me. I say, ought I to put my gloves on?"
"No, no. Clutch them in your great fist as you are doing

the door-way of which he was standing.
"That one," he said; "the tall girl in the green gown talking to

nearly empty rooms with the man who was talking to her.
Hugh was excited out of recognition of his former half-scornful,

she could be so wicked as to refuse him.
"She will marry me," he said to himself. "She must."
Lady Newhaven touched him gently on the arm.
"I dared not speak to you before," she said. "Nearly every one

has gone. Will you take me down to supper? I am tired out."
He stared at her, not recognizing her.
"Have I vexed you?" she faltered.
And with a sudden horrible revulsion of feeling he remembered.

want three minutes of your valuable time. Come into my stu

The story of a young woman who is a snobby, sexy, and a little bit smitten with the man she loves.

Mary Cholmondeley wrote at the beginning of the 20th century. She spent most of her life in England caring for her mother. By age 18 she was convinced she would never marry. She is best remembered for her satirical novel Red Pottage. Red Pottage is the story of adultery and a clergyman who destroys his sister's art. The first plot contained in this novel is that of Rachael West an heiress and her love for a man trapped in an illicit affair who is doomed to die by is own hand. The second plot is about a gifted female writer who is unable to break away and start her own life free of her family.


Woman's World: A Graphic Novel

slept away half a millennium, and time for awakening was here.
Voices. Someone shouting, "He's mine! I got here before you did, Sam!"
Another voice: "The hell you did, Phil. I was here. You get out of

terribly tired, wanting nothing but another few hundred years of sleep.
I yawned and sat up. And gasped. For as I opened my eyes and gradually

glimpses of bare breasts and lovely flashing thighs.
I climbed out of my somno-casket and lowered myself to the floor of the

their feet, glaring bitterly at each other, and turned to look at me.
They were really stacked. To my astonishment I discovered that they

greeted by a pair of half-naked amazons when I woke.
The brunette nudged the other and said, "Let's get out of here with him

muscles," the one named Phil said. "Let's travel."
"Just a second," I said. "Who are you? Where are you taking me?" I

didn't feel like trusting myself to these two till I had my bearings.
"Don't worry about that, honey," Sam said. "We'll take good care of

you." She winked broadly and said, "Won't we, Phil?"
They started to propel me out the door of the chamber. I was still a

as I was, I had no choice but to let them push me into the corridor.
"Where to?" Sam asked.
"To the Lower Quarters," Phil said. "There's a copter there, and

of steps, then got straightened away and began to run with them.
"Stop! Come back!" the big woman yelled—and she came roaring after

us. The floor seemed to shake as she thundered along the corridor.
We fled. I allowed myself to be dragged along by my two amazon captors,

coming up toward us from the other direction.
"The old cow's called the guards," Sam muttered. "We're caught, now!"
We were. The tide of female guards swept over us like a herd of cattle,

conscious from my long stay under suspended animation.
Maybe I'm dreaming! I thought.
No. No dream. I was at least wide-awake enough to tell that. The women

to another. I was starting to feel like a plaything. So I struck back.
I landed a fist

Phil is a young man who has been a member of the Amazons for many years. He is unable to find any work, and his mother is unsure of how to care for him. His father, a renowned Amazon, is devoted to his family. But when Phil discovers that his mother's daughter is pregnant, he is devastated.

Norma Fontaine lives in a perfect woman's world of handy tips and sensible advice. She measures life by the standards set in the magazines she reads, so when she bumps into Mr Hands and he suggests taking tea at the Excella cafe, how could she possibly refuse? What could be more exhilarating, or more appropriate?


Old Town

Ribe”—the Old Town itself. This is the historical record:
From the port of Ribe there sailed in April, 1663, a ship bearing the

The Germans to this day call it Ripen on their maps.
It did more than preserve the mere name—it kept its spirit alive. In

he made reply: “It is not clothes or arms that make the man.”
“What then?” sneered his accuser, one Van Horst.
“This, sir!” said Van Riepen, and smote his breast proudly. Whereat the

British officer who attended ordered that he be released.
“He is a man,” he said. “Were I ten times a prisoner, I could give no

better answer.” And the patriot went free.
So the old world and the new have met, and the Old Town won the day

thrill, and I stood up, feeling forty years younger all at once.
“Blackbirds,” said Mike, looking aloft, but I knew better. I watched

when there were enough of them. The starling was a friend.
I suppose it was the near approach of the time of his going away,

spring he was there earlier than ever, as if he knew.
Never have I forgotten it; it is to me as vivid as if it were

like that. I had slain my friend.
[Pg 6]
But neither have I forgotten the long peaceful twilights of summer when

must be that he has come straight. Else, why should he seek me out?
Where the northernmost boundary post of the German empire, shaken by

was warning that the sea was coming in.
The Old Town stood on a wide plain, the fertile marsh between it and

them, and had perished with their herds.
If the flood came before the mail had got in, an anxious outlook was

to have a look at the fellow who had lent him a hand in need.
“Strong boy,” he said, and rapped me smartly with his cane; “be a man

and wet through, in my pride.
They used to tell a story of another Amtmand who, fresh from his snug

talking that way; the children one has to have, one will get.”
The philosophy of one of my teachers in the Latin School was of a

go to all that trouble. “What for?” he asked.
“Suppose the lightning were to strike the ho

The book is a collection of short stories, poems, and essays. It is the first book in the series to be published by the publisher of the book.

The city of Exeter has been struck by a wave of teen suicides. Nothing connects the teenagers but a mysterious viral video that Michael, freelance photographer, is desperate to get to the bottom of. With his stepson Billy mourning the loss of his older brother and rapidly slipping away into seclusion, Michael races against time to save his fractured family.
Meanwhile, Billy has discovered the dark heart of Exeter; a parallel world that has co-existed for centuries. Irresistibly drawn to it, Billy wanders the cobbled streets of 'Old Town' and encounters its decadent prince, Mister Toby; a grote


The Mentor (Necessary Lies, #1)

time of peril the whole town could gather there for shelter.
The Market Hall of Ypres has always been a communal

For centuries it has stood there, the wonder of Ypres.
ÉMILE VERHAEREN
Born at St. Amand, Belgium, on the River Scheldt, May, 1855; died

SECRETARY, H. A. CROWE.
March 15, 1920VOLUME 8NUMBER 3
Entered as second-class matter, March 10, 1913, at the postoffice at New York, N. Y., under the act of March

Entered as second-class matter March 10, 1913, at the postoffice at New York, N. Y., under the act of March 3, 1879. Copyright,

individual savings, Belgium held a place high on the list of nations before the War.
Belgium was a veritable hive of contented, thrifty workers before the German

and retreated by way of Mons into St. Quentin, France.
High among the forested ways of the Ardennes is Spa, the delightfully pretty and—in

were at Spa, has since been almost equally unwelcome as a resident of Holland.
Obstinate Liège
The Meuse, flowing through verdant Wallonia, embraces, with its tributary, the

“We were pounding at the anvils when they pounded at our gate;
‘Open,’ cried the German squadrons; ‘let us pass or meet your fate.
We are millions; dare deny us and Liège is but a name.’
But we chose to die in honor than to buy our lives in shame.
So we banked our eager fires, and we laid aside the sledge,
Recking only that our sires had endowed us with the pledge
To maintain an ally’s honor, to uphold the Belgian code,
And we answered with our cannon, THAT LIÈGE WOULD HOLD THE ROAD.”

“In the market-place of Bruges
Stands the belfry old and brown;
Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded,
Still it watches o’er the town.”
—Longfellow

and made an end of the all-conquering career of the great Napoleon.
Malines, Antwerp, Ghent
On the road to Antwerp we digress a little to visit the very old Flemish town of

Courtesy, Collier’s Weekly
RUINS OF THE CLOTH HALL, CATHEDRAL, AND TOWN HALL, YPRES
Compare this picture with Gravure No. 1. Both were phot

The epoch of the French Revolution is a time when the French were able to conquer the world. But the French had to fight for their own survival, and they had to battle for their freedom.

A new, steamy romance from Amazon best-selling author, Alison Ryan... THE MENTOR.
My father is dead.
That much I know. What I didn't know, was what my father did for a living. I thought he was just a run of the mill lawyer. I was wrong. My father had an entire life I never knew about. One filled with half-truths and plenty of deception.
Nolan Weston is the key to unlocking the lies.
Nolan worked for my father. He was his right-hand man, the one he entrusted with everything. That would include being the executor of my father's massive estate that I just so happen to be the sole heiress to.
I sh


Dr. Wortle's School

all those who gave him advice to mind their own business.
It may be said of him that he knew his own so well as to justify

with the Doctor in a joke than to have to bear his hard words.
It is chiefly in reference to one of these ushers that our story

boys.  But this would generally be during the Doctor's absence.
Here, on the school side of the wall, there was a separate

wife, and the necessity of earning an income by his erudition.
It would at first have seemed very improbable that Dr. Wortle

bed-side, just as though she had been a paid nurse.
And so she felt herself to be.  Nor was she in the least ashamed

I feel grateful, but I shan't bother you by telling you so."
But this was not the end of it.  Lady De Lawle declared that she

Mrs. Peacocke were not man and wife.
The story how it came to be so need not be very long;—nor will

within her little drawing-room at the College of St. Louis.
Dead?  Certainly he was not dead!  He did not believe that any one

and yet a little wickedness was not distasteful to him.
And he was angry with himself in that he had made such a promise.

has a tongue as loud as the town-crier's bell."
"But what has Mrs. Stantiloup to say about me?"
"Nothing, except in so far as she can hit me through you."
"And what does the Bishop say?"
"He thinks that I ought to know something of your life during

those five years you were in America."
"I think so also," said Mr. Peacocke.
"I don't want to know anything for myself.  As far as I am

be an end of it."
"And what will he do?" asked Mr. Peacocke.
"Well; as far as the curacy is concerned, of course he can refuse

never can say what his intentions may be six months hence."
"But if I were to refuse to speak of my life in America," said Mr.

then would it be with myself and my wife in regard to the school?"
"It would make no difference whatever," said the Doctor.
"There is a story to tell," said Mr. Peacocke, very slowly.
"I am sure that it cannot be to your disgrace."
"I

The story of the Doctor and his wife is a tale of love, friendship, and the power of the Holy Spirit.

Mr Peacocke, a Classical scholar, has come to Broughtonshire with his beautiful American wife to live as a schoolmaster. But when the blackmailing brother of her first husband a reprobate from Louisiana appears at the school gates, a dreadful secret is revealed and the county is scandalized. Ostracised by the community, the pair seem trapped in a hopeless situation until the combative but warm-hearted headmaster of the school, Dr Wortle, offers his support, and Mr Peacocke embarks upon a journey to America that he hopes will lay to rest the accusations once and for all. A perceptive exploratio


The Unlucky (Sarah Roberts, #13)

maid again in attendance to put out the light.
It must not be supposed that Helen, her first surprise over, submitted

colonel, notwithstanding the very true love that he had borne her.
Poor Helen! She was the jarring note in this contented, middle-aged

doing. We sent Miss Walker about her business, didn't we? And then—."
The colonel paused, and Mrs. Desmond then perceived Helen standing

half-timidly, half-defiantly near the door.
"You there, Helen!" she said coldly. "How often am I to tell you that I

on! Go and take them off at once. When I was a child—."
"It is really my fault this time, wife," put in the colonel, who dreaded

once. We shall not expect to see you this evening."
"I won't set to work at once—I won't, I won't, I won't," muttered Helen

keeping remained as intact as it had been in her grandmother's time.
"Oh, Helen!" she cried, "what have you done? My poor little shepherd is

regarded her stepmother with a flushed, triumphant face.
"Go to your room," said the latter at last in accents of such bitterness

take it from me. It is mine."
"It shall be taken from you. John," turning to her husband, "I appeal to

present which in your mistaken kindness you appear to have given her."
The colonel sighed, but came forward nervously.
"Helen," he said, "pray do not oppose your mother. You know that she

and her breath was coming thick and fast.
"Do you want me to give her my violin?" she asked.
"Only for a little time, Helen, to show that you are sorry, and that you

father, now you rob me of that. I hate you."
Not waiting for a reply, she rushed wildly from the room, and a moment

and orderly, stooped and picked up the violin.
"I hope it has not suffered," she said, placing it on a table. "It must

the foregoing remark.
"Am I ever hard on her, John?"
As Mrs. Desmond spoke she crossed the room and reseated herself in her

lace handkerchief.
"No, my dear, of course not," returned the colonel. "But—"
"But what?"
"She needs patience. It is per

The first book in the series of novels by the author, Helen Walker, is a story of a young woman who is swept away by her father's death. She is unable to find a way to stop her father from stealing her violin. Her father is resigned to the death of her mother, and she is forced to take her violin to the conservatory.

The Unlucky, Sarah Roberts Book Thirteen
When a young Toronto woman steps onto the edge of the CN Tower and prepares to jump to her death, Sarah Roberts is already there, waiting for the jumper with a parachute and a solution. As the woman teeters over the edge and is about to fall over a thousand feet to the cement, Vivian channels through Sarah, takes over her gun hand and shoots the jumper in front of dozens of witnesses. It turns out, Vivian had prepared the parachute for Sarah's escape.With a manhunt for Sarah underway, she is overwhelmed with an anger at Vivian she has never felt before.


Engagement of Convenience

smile. "They all spoiled and petted me shamefully."
"Ah, that was good for you."
"I am not so sure about that," she returned

hurried forward, and helped him to his feet.
"You are not hurt, I hope?" he inquired.
"I think not," returned the old man. He

narrow gamut of light and shade."
"Marvellous!" echoed Mr. Robinson again.
"But if I may make the remark in my turn,"

of one of the old gang of his Latin Quarter days.
"Sadler!" he exclaimed.
The big head was convulsed with laughter,

it'll hold good for all time, I suppose."
"Oh, I should chance all that," said Wyndham.
"But what is beauty?" insisted Sadler.
"I know when I see it," laughed Wyndham.
"Give me character," said Sadler. "Unselfishness

suggestion of imperfection."
"Am I like that?"
"You were just now."
"I was such a bother and a hindrance to you

improvement——"
"You take me too seriously," he broke in.
"You were serious," she insisted.
"Serious—yes; in so far as I was afraid

again at his embarrassment.
He laughed, and stood the sketch on a chair.
"Your presence certainly startled me," he confessed.

was not my own. It is the law of the world."
"You were wrong. There is no law."
"There is the law of pride," he argued. "We

hoped—there was a good deal of mist about."
"Better luck to-morrow!" she said.
He struck hard at a knob of coal, making a

end of the month?"
"By all means."
"I should like to send you to the Salon."
"That is indeed a charming idea. But you

"There is no date fixed yet."
"Ah," said the earl. "How is your fiancée?"
"Perfectly well," said Wyndham. "First-rate."
"A Miss—er—Llewellyn—wasn't it?"
"Miss Robinson," corrected Wyndham.
"Oh, ah—Miss Robinson! Yes, yes, that was

you will not be going to privation."
"In my heart of hearts privation is preferable."
"Ah, no. Remember it is the call of duty. It

all the rest of his life to lament in.
"Have you thought of any plan?" he asked.
"None," she replied. "To tell the truth, I

rather, to omnibus! Or is it

The story of a young woman who is a sexy, sassy girl. She is the daughter of sextets and a man who is an alcoholic. She has been a virgin for years, but she has never had a boyfriend. Her father, a wealthy lawyer, is unable to afford to pay her bills. She's a widower, and she's not sure how to make ends meet.

Two adventurous spirits
Julia Howard longs for the freedom her inheritance will bring her--but with her controlling brother holding the purse strings, she's going to need a most convenient engagement... An encounter in the woods with a dashing stranger couldn't be more timely.
Wounded, his life at sea at an end, Captain James Covington isn't prepared for the dull ache of civilian life. He sees in Julia a fellow adventurous spirit--willing to risk all. Could agreeing to her outrageous proposal help him recapture a reason to live as they face the biggest adventure of all--marriage?


Glory of Youth

I.
Bettina
9
II.
In the Shadowy Room
21
III.
In Which Diana Reaps
36
IV.
White Lilacs
51
V.
In Which Bettina Dances
64
VI.
"For Every Man There Is Just One Woman"
80
VII.
Harbor Light
94
VIII.
The Empty House
105
IX.
The Golden Age
116
X.
Storm Signals
127
XI.
The White Maiden
141
XII.
Youth and Beauty
155
XIII.
Her Letter to Anthony
170
XIV.
The Little Silver Ring
185
XV.
In Which Bettina Flies
199
XVI.
Voices in the Dark
213
XVII.
Glory of Youth
227
XVIII.
Penance
242
XIX.
Her Father's Ring
257
XX.
The "Gray Gull"
272
XXI.
Broken Wings
285
XXII.
The Enchanted Forest
300
XXIII.
The Procession of Pretty Ladies
316
XXIV.
The Afterglow
323

[Pg 9]
CHAPTER I
BETTINA
The girl knelt on the floor, feverishly packing a shabby little trunk.
Outside was a streaming April storm, and the rain, rushing against the

lantern, attached to a chain, hung from the low ceiling.
The girl lighted the lantern, and the faint illumination made deeper the

shadows below.
And from the shadows came a man's voice.
"May I come up?"[Pg 10]
As the girl bent over the railing, the glow of the lantern made of her

nor of death, nor of the things which come after death?
When at last her visitor emerged from the gloom, he showed himself

frightened."
"Yes," she said, "Miss Matthews is at school, and I am alone——"
"And unhappy?"
Her lips quivered, but she drew her hand from his, and went on into the

match to a fire which was laid in the blackened brick fireplace.[Pg 11]
The doctor's quick eye noted the preparations for departure.
"What does that mean?" he asked, and pointed to the trunk.
"I—I am going away——"
"Away?"
"Yes," nervously; "I—I can't stay here, doctor."
"Why not?"
"Oh," tremulously, "it was all right when I had mother, because she was

money left from the insurance—and so—I'm going away."
He looked at her, with her red-gold hair in high relief against the worn

slender figure, the tiny feet in childi

The epoch of the first century is marked by the arrival of the edifice of the "stylized" and "scary" (the "symbols"), which are now a part of the modern world.

Irene Temple Bailey (1885-1953) was an American novelist and short story writer. Beginning around 1902, she was contributing stories to national magazines such as The Saturday Evening Post, Cavalier Magazine, Cosmopolitan, American Magazine, McClure's, Woman's Home Companion, Good Housekeeping, McCall's and others. In 1914, Bailey wrote the screenplay for the Vitagraph Studios film Auntie and two of her books were filmed. She also had three of her books on the list of bestselling novels in the United States in 1918, 1922, and 1926 as determined by the New York Times. Among her most famous work


Watchers

were bad enough, but another war now might mean the end of everything."
He found the alien who called himself Leonard Havlik in a bright,

failure was not his fault. It was Theirs....
The girl left the room. Manson straightened at his window, bringing up

searching for you, Havlik—and here I am."
He set the autopilot for his cabin on Green River, holding his blast

smiled faintly, dark eyes gleaming in the light of the instrument panel.
"Laugh while you can," Manson said grimly. "I've learned something of

Niish, who are our masters, have ordered us to leave Earth. Tonight."
Manson stared, the alien's assurance fanning his anger.
"You're lying—you Watchers have mingled with us for centuries, using

us directly. You'd never go now, with success almost in your hands."
"Perhaps you mistake our intention," Havlik said. "How do you know

tonight I have proved it."
Havlik shrugged. "You've wasted your time. We leave Earth tonight."
Manson laughed shortly. "You're not going anywhere, my friend. I need

you for information."
"What else would you know? Our reason for quitting Earth?"
"You're not leaving at all," Manson said, nettled. "You may have

in the east, but the peak was lost in darkness.
"You misunderstand our motive," the alien said. "But you're quite right

course—and it should be going up, not down!"
"Your crusade is based on a false premise," Havlik said. "We came to

cat-and-mouse with me from the first!"
He remembered the gun in his hand and swung it up.
"Let your weapon drop," Havlik said. "You set the autopilot at my

floor and cried out, startled, when his body refused to obey.
The alien removed his manacles. "You will be free again as soon as we

veins knotting in his forehead with the effort. "I might have known!"
The gyro landed gently, a hundred yards from the cylinder.

the gyro, copper hair blowing in the night-wind.
"You were almost late," she called to Havlik. "We're ready to—" She

caught sight of the Earthman and broke off.
In th

Leonard Havlik is a young alien who has been ordered to leave Earth. He is the masters of the alien's mission, and he is the only one who knows how to stop it.

Three prominent world figure heads disappear following The World Summit in Kuala Lumpur. The following day US President John Remy is found dead of a heart attack in his hotel room.
Meanwhile two friends on a road trip across North America come to the aid of a mysterious woman they find washed up and battered on the banks of The Colorado River. Somehow all these events are linked.
Choosing to help her plunges them into a nightmarish race across the globe for she holds a secret that defies all we know about human evolution.
Pursued by a deadly force intent on stopping them they must recover a re


Bella Donna: Too Many Spells

does he live? In Harley Street, I suppose?" was a constant question.
But he did not live in Harley Street. He was not the man to lose himself

the lips of London, the city of parrots and of monkeys.
His age was debated, and so was his origin. Most people thought he was

music he was almost fanatically devoted, as are many Jews.
It has been said of the Jew that he is nearly always possessed of a

fuller. Indeed, he often thought it would have been less full.
Suddenly he became the fashion, and he went on being the fashion.
He had no special peculiarity of manner. He did not attract the world of

dinners, at receptions, occasionally even at a great ball.
Early in the morning he rode in the Park. Once a week he gave a dinner

thought him one of the fortunate of this world.
One morning of June the doctor was returning to Cleveland Square from

alert, staring upon London with their calmly British eyes.
"In my own place," he repeated to himself.
And now his lips and his eyes were smiling. And he saw the great drama

of London as something that a schoolboy could understand at a glance.
Was it really idleness he longed for? He did not know why, but abruptly

of the patients with whom he had made appointments that day.
He looked at them, seeking for one that promised interest. The first

Mrs. Harringby; five, Sir Henry Grebe; five-thirty, Mrs. Chepstow."
The last name was that of the last patient. Doctor Meyer Isaacson's

patient whose name was against the time of five-thirty.
And so Mrs. Chepstow would be the last patient he would see that day.
He sat for a moment with the book open on his knee, looking at her name.
It was a name very well known to him, very well known to the

in the announcement, as of an honest man frankly declaring his position.
Mrs. Chepstow's life was very possibly influenced by her parents'

and who does nothing can spread in the era of the paragraph.
And then presently she was the heroine of a great divorce case.
Mr. Chepstow, forge

The story of a young woman who is a widower and a doctor.

Half the time Bella Donna is a regular girl at a regular school with her regular friends - animal-mad Sam, and pink fan Angela. The rest of the time she's a young witch learning to cast spells and living with her adoptive mum Lilith, and Lilith's niece Verity.
Bella is working very hard at learning her spells, as she's desperate to win the Spell Casting Contest. But a new teacher at school, Miss Rowan, is making her nervous. Witchlike things are happening in the classroom, and Bella knows it isn't her . . .


The Round Dozen

Pretty soon he grew bold, and seizing the knocker he gave a loud rap.
Pretty soon he grew bold, and seizing the knocker he gave a loud rap.

Wolken.' I do not know the name in English."
"It is 'Clouds,'" I told him.
"Ah, yes, 'die clouds.' Fritz could hardly

and plead with the clouds for forgiveness."
"That was bold indeed," I said.
"It was a much harder task than it had been

pleasantly, because it was kind.
"My baby is so ill," replied Karen, weeping.
"How ill?" inquired the old woman, anxiously.

asked the second, anxiously.
"No. The little herb you know of is powerful."[43]
"And the crystal dust you know of is more

"Eyes to pierce the darkness through,
Wit to grasp the hidden clew,
Heart to feel and hand to do,—
These the gnomes have given to you."

"Eyes to pierce the darkness through,
Wit to grasp the hidden clew,
Heart to feel and hand to do,—
These the gnomes have given to you."

very comfortable as they sat there together.
"Pies, my dear? What do you mean?"[48]
"I'll tell you, mamma. You're going to

do what other people do in the same circumstances."
"What's that?"
"Teach something, or sew, I suppose."
"Sewing's slow starvation, in my opinion,[121]

your thing to do," said Aunt Polly.
Hetty looked at her with incredulous eyes.
"You're not in earnest, are you?" she said.
"I am. In dead earnest."
"But, Aunt Polly, gingerbread! Such a little

strange noises there. Will you?"
"Oh, Rafe! I'm afraid. I don't quite like—"
"But you can't be afraid if I'm there," said

which renewed Hexie's fears.
"Rafe! Rafe! let us go back," she cried.
"Go back yourself if you are afraid," replied

Close by the armor, half hidden by a curtain of heavy tapestry, was an open door.—Page 142.
Close by the armor, half hidden by a curtain of heavy tapestry, was an open door.—Page 142.

is she that has betrayed us."
"How do you know that, Rafe?"
Then it all came out. Winifred listened to

"My dear is like a dewy rose
All in the early morn;
But never on

The story of a young woman who is a snobby, sexy, and a little girl who is in love with her father.

Wealthy London bachelor William Helder takes his task of tracking down a priceless family heirloom more seriously when the trail leads to the beautiful Hazel Paget.


The Magic Bed

The Magic BedA Book of East Indian Tales
The Cat and the MouseA Book of Persian Tales
The Jeweled SeaA Book of Chinese Tales
The Magic Jaw BoneA Book of South Sea Islands Tales
The Man ElephantA Book of African Tales
The Enchanted CastleA Book of Tales from Flower Land

India is undoubtedly the home of the fairy-tale. Of those now in existence, probably one-third of them came from India. Gypsies, missionaries, travelers, and traders carried them to other countries where they were told and retold until much of their original form was obliterated, and many of their titles lost.
The "Jatakas," or birth-stories of Buddha, form the earliest collection of fairy-tales in the world, and were gathered together more than two thousand years before the Brothers Grimm—well and justly beloved of children—began to write the stories which have delighted a world of readers, young and old.
It is from these, and from others told by native nurses, or ayahs, to children in India--where the belief in fairies, gnomes, ogres, and monsters is still widespread--that five stories most likely to interest young people have been selected to form this volume. They are stories which have aroused the wonder and laughter of thousands of children in the far East, and can hardly fail to produce the same effect upon the children of America.
H.J.

The Princess Lalun
"A tiger stood roaring"
"Sitting under a tree"
"'Cannot I have supper with you?'"
"Spread it gently over the Princess"
"The Prince told her who he was"
"The Princess sits on the roof"
"The Rajah sent for the Prince"
"His tigers came in"
"He beat the kettle-drum loudly"
"They came to a beautiful palace"
"'I am going to run away'"
"They found a beautiful marble tank"
"Nala cried out 'Oh, oh!'"
"The Rakshas is on his way home"
"Twined red lotus flowers in her hair"
"'They are my father's flowers'"
"A diamond shining in his forehead"
"The monkeys taught him to climb trees"
"All the animals loved him"
"Four men cutting

The story of the tiger, the Princess, and the Prince is a tale of love, friendship, and adventure. It is based on the stories of the Brothers Grimm, the earliest collection of fairy-tales in the world, and its most likely to interest young and old.

When Georgie outgrows his baby bed, he chooses a big second-hand bed that the thrift shop owner tells him is magic. "The lady who had it before said you could travel in it." Georgie's granny teases him about his magic bed. But every night, Georgie has a new adventure with tigers or gnomes or pirates in faraway places. Some nights he would swim with dolphins, which is why his bed is sometimes wet in the morning. And when his granny replaces the old relic with a spanking-new bed, Georgie has his revenge.
John Burningham's playful handling of a child's imagination and the special relationship a c


The Silent Barrier

Von einer, die Natur von andrer Seite hält.
Fr. Rückert: Die Weisheit des Brahmenen.
[I must—That is the Barrier within which I am pent by the World on

THE SILENT BARRIER
CHAPTER I
THE WISH
“Mail in?”
“Yes, sir; just arrived. What name?”
“Charles K. Spencer.”
The letter clerk seized a batch of correspondence and sorted it with

to your room in future, or shall I keep it here?”
“Right here, please, in No. 20 slot. I could receive a reply by cable

while I was going and coming along my corridor.”
The clerk smiled deferentially. He appreciated not only the length of

of one to whom thought and action were alike familiar.
Spencer, fully aware that he was posing for a necessary picture,

a palm shaded balcony offered the retreat he sought.
He little dreamed that he was choosing the starting point of the most

regain Paradise, and all the fret and fume have an end.
[Pg 4]Charles K. Spencer, then, would certainly have been the most

for a glass of water, and composed himself to read his letters.
The waiter hesitated. He was a Frenchman, and feared he had not heard

to borrow a policeman’s cape and shoot a quart into a decanter.”
The quelled waiter hurried away and brought a carafe. Spencer

pleasant reverie.
“Shall we sit here, Helen?”
“Anywhere you like, dear. It is all the same to me. Thanks to you, I

a cold exterior he had an artist’s soul, and “Helen” met an ideal.
“Pretty as a peach!” he said to himself, and he continued to gaze at

direct inference is that I am rolling in wealth.”
“Well, dear, you earn a great deal of money——”
“I get twenty pounds a week, and this frock I am wearing cost

the company.”
“What about my singing?”
“You have a very agreeable and well trained voice.”
“I’m afraid you are incorrigible. You ought to have said that I sang

before opening the first of the Denver letters.
As his glance was momentarily diverted, he did not grasp the essential

another open floor just above the level of her eyes.
“I don’t know how in the

The saga of the first book in the series of novels by the author of the novel "The Last Book" is a story of a young woman who is swept up in the life of solitary, lonely, and lonely. She is reborn into a beautiful young woman, and her life is transformed by the presence of 'the' 'The Last Word'.

Louis Tracy (1863 - 1928) was a British journalist, and prolific writer of fiction. He used the pseudonyms Gordon Holmes and Robert Fraser, which were at times shared with M. P. Shiel, a collaborator from the start of the twentieth century.


The Librarian at Play

than a fondness for non-fiction."
As I went back I met Professor Frugles.
"Let me have this, as soon as it is

is expected at almost any moment now.
Her specialty was being wan.
[45]
Come what might, at any hour of the

"that it is the great condor of the Andes?"
Mr. Kookle shook his head.
Then they both started again on their

was only finished when the bell rang again.
"Hello! This the library?"
"Yes."
"Well, I wish you'd tell me the answer

know it now, without any hesitation!"
"I am sorry."
"Oh, very well, then. Good-by."
The last in a tone as acid and cold as

held the volume ready.
"Have you it right there?"
"Yes."
[84]
"Well, I want to see a picture of Mrs.

Cromlech near Is-sur-Tille.'"
"What on earth is a cromlech?"
"You can search me."
"Let's take them both. I'll get them

to once, an' two more on my cards."
"How many cards you got?"
[142]
"Two. Ain't you?"
"No, I ain't got but one."
"Didn't they make you take a green

the exam, anyhow."
"So you've only got to-day and to-morrow?"
"That's all."
"Gee! What does the course cover?"
"English literature from Beowulf to

the death of Swinburne."
"Know anything about it?"
"Not a damned thing."
"Know who Beowulf was?"
[152]
"No,—I thought you were going to

country."
"Oh, would that make any difference?"
"Well, it would, rather."
"I don't see why."
"Well, for one thing, when he did come

overlooked it."
"Was there never an Indian raid?"
"Yes; there was. In 1641."
"How would that do?"
[163]
"I will leave you to judge. The Indians—there

take them to the village jail."
"It does not sound very dramatic."
"I am no judge of what is or is not

to your poultry soon," I remarked.
"What do you mean?"
"Why, one Chantecler."
"Will we? I don't know. We don't

up, as if he were very ill.
"Surely that is The Cockalorum."
Mr. Gooch nodded.
"Follow me, please. This room—" he

the greatest surprise and wonder.
"She was a gordian shape of dazzling hue,
Vermilion-spotted, golden, g

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

The Librarian At Play, By Edmund Lester Pearson. 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.


The Star-Treader and Other Poems

I would I were a god, with all the scope
Of attributes that are the essential core
Of godhead, and its visibility.
I am but emperor, and hold awhile
The power to hasten Death upon his way,
And cry a halt to worn and lagging Life
For others, but for mine own self may not
Delay the one, nor bid the other speed.
There have been many kings, and they are dead,
And have no power in death save what the wind
Confers upon their blown and brainless dust
To vex the eyeballs of posterity.
But were I god, I would be overlord
Of many kings, and were as breath to guide[3]
Their dust of destiny. And were I god,
Exempt from this mortality which clogs
Perception, and clear exercise of will,
What rapture it would be, if but to watch
Destruction crouching at the back of Time,
The tongueless dooms which dog the travelling suns;
The vampire Silence at the breast of worlds,
Fire without light that gnaws the base of things,
And Lethe's mounting tide, that rots the stone
Of fundamental spheres. This were enough
Till such time as the dazzled wings of will
Came up with power's accession, scarcely felt
For very suddenness. Then would I urge
The strong contention and conflicting might
Of chaos and creation, matching them,
Those immemorial powers inimical,
And all their stars and gulfs subservient—
Dynasts of Time, and anarchs of the dark—
In closer war reverseless; and would set
New discord at the universal core,
A Samson-principle to bring it down
In one magnificence of ruin. Yea,
The monster Chaos were mine unleashed hound,
And all my power Destruction's own right arm!

What nights retard thee, O Sirius!
Thy light is as a spear,
And thou penetratest them
As a warrior that stabbeth his foe
Even to the center of his life.
Thy rays reach farther than the gulfs;
They form a bridge thereover,
That shall endure till the links of the universe
Are unfastened, and drop apart,
And all the gulfs are one,
Dissevered by suns no longer.

A voice cried to me in

The first book in the series of books by the author, a collection of short stories and essays by the writer, based on his own experiences, is a re-issue of the first edition of the series.

This early volume of Clark Ashton Smith's poetry was published when he was a mere lad of nineteen. At that point, he achieved international acclaim, and an American critic dubbed him the "Keats of the Pacific." He moved for a short time in the same circles as Ambrose Bierce and Jack London. In any case, these poems are a sign of the talent to come.


Children of the World

watch for me, though I expressly forbade it--"
He rose hastily and entered the house. When he had groped his

in. Besides, it is quite time to go to sleep. Good night."
"May I be permitted to ask, Fräulein, what book it is that

lovely roses you have in that vase! Permit me--"
He took a small bouquet, which was standing on the table, and

must know how it happened."
"I? I did not know--"
"Any better than to ask me to play for you at half-past two

rest."
He bent his head slightly, and left the room.
As soon as she heard him go up stairs, she hurried into the

confused chaos through his mind. Suddenly he heard a voice from within.
"Is that you, Edwin?"
"Of course it is I," he replied.
The next instant he had opened the door and entered the room

obliquely across the bed placed against the wall.
On this bed, with his eyes fixed upon the door, lay a young

white delicately formed hand.
"Well," said he, "was it very fine? Has it done you good?"
"Good evening, Balder," replied Edwin, "or rather, good

About it. Has the remedy already produced an effect?"
"To-morrow you shall hear as much as you wish, but not a

supper; there is the plate with your bread and butter."
"I wasn't hungry," replied the youth, letting his head fall

the unusual excitement, might perhaps feel inclined to eat something."
Edwin brought the plate to the bed. "If you don't want me to

to Jungfrau Reginchen, who will soon bring you to reason."
Again a vivid blush crimsoned the young man's face, but Edwin

regretted that you could not have it. Once, and no more, good night."
While undressing, he said to himself, "This shameless moon! As

endure them."
"And yet you remained to the end."
"I? Why yes; in the first place I had a very comfortable seat;

troublesome, melancholy,--in a word, insane condition it is."
He had sprung from his bed and was now crouching on the foot

to make room for his brother; "why must all this be hopeless?"
"Just listen, my boy, and you will understand al

The story of a young woman who is a smitten with the beautiful and charming Fräulein, and whose life is shaped by her love for him.

Created for the International year of the Child 1979
The children's texts, narratives, interviews and drawings published here, irrpective of their country of origin, have nearly all benn assembled over the past two years from schools. Many were written phonetically, without punctuation. We corrected the spelling, since leaving the texts in thier original form would have made the translator's task impossible. Where they repeated themselves we cut out repetitions so that they could be better understood. However we did not permit ourselves to change a single word.


God of Love: A Guide to the Heart of Judaism, Christianity and Islam

Lappo Lappi was young and Lappentarius never dreamed of.
There is no lovelier day of all the years of days for Florence than

affairs that intimately concerned him.
Now, on this day, which I see again so clearly, I was seated, as I say,

"Flower of the lily or flower of the rose,
My heart is a leaf on each love-wind that blows.
A face at the window, a form at the door,
Can capture my fancy as never before.
My fancy was captured, since-well, let us say
Since last night, or the night before last, when I lay
In the arms of—but, hush, I must needs be discreet;
So farewell, with a kiss for your hands and your feet.
I worship your fingers, I worship your toes,
Flower of the lily or flower of the rose."

Lappo, Messer Lappo, who is your sweetheart?"
And I, who was ever ready with a brisk compliment to pretty maid or

with her brown hand that made my wits sing.
Now this was more than my philosophy could stomach, so I made a grab at

me a kiss, I shall die of despair."
Then Brigitta, who was nearest to me, came nearer with a kind look in

kissed her, though I thank Heaven it was not the last.
And because there is nothing so contagious as kindness and so

had not noticed, being so busy on pleasant business.
But I heard a very sweet and tunable voice speak, and the voice asked,

friend, Messer Guido Cavalcanti, was newly of our company.
It is many a long year since my dear friend Messer Guido dei Cavalcanti

sour gentleman, I have news for you."
But I protested, drolling him, for it was always our custom when we met

heed him," I said, "Guido's news is always eight days old."
Then the girls laughed at him, for I think in their hearts they were

other. But Guido was not to be downed by their laughter.
"This is not an hour old," he said. "You should all be at the Signory.

sighed, "Monna Beatrice, whom some call the loveliest girl in the city?"
And Guido gave to their several questions a single answer: "Even she.

always curious—I mean I was then always curi

The story of the sailor who was born in the Alps and whose life is a mystery.

Though greatly influenced by modern teachers of Eastern spirituality such as Ram Dass, Mirabai Starr has spent her life responding to the call to honor the diversity and celebrate the unity between all paths that lead us home to love. Best known for her translations of the Spanish mystics, in God of Love Starr explores the spiritual roots of Western religion. She provides not only an excellent introduction to the basic beliefs, scriptures, and practices of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, but also a new emerging context called InterSpiritual with which to understand our religiously pluralisti


Myths and Legends of Ancient Egypt

I.INTRODUCTORY1
II.EXPLORATION, HISTORY, AND CUSTOMS33
III.THE PRIESTHOOD: MYSTERIES AND TEMPLES52
IV.THE CULT OF OSIRIS63
V.THE GREAT GODS130
VI.EGYPTIAN LITERATURE182
VII.MAGIC252
VIII.FOREIGN AND ANIMAL GODS: THE LATE PERIOD275
IX.EGYPTIAN ART311
 GLOSSARY AND INDEX329

in unravelling to some extent the age-long enigma of this mystic land.
One of the first considerations which occur to us is that among such

the number of eight hundred.
Local Gods
Another cause which made for confusion was that in every large town of

the outer semblance of things, the symbolic, as of old.
The evolution of religion in ancient Egypt must have taken the same

But these questions will be dealt with in their proper places.
Beginning with forms of the lower cultus—forms almost certainly of

amalgamated or identified with the central idea of a sun-god.
The Egyptian religion of the Middle and Late Kingdoms was as much a

personality would continue to exist after death.
But what proof have we that the early dwellers in Egypt passed through

fetishistic necklaces of fingers found among many savage peoples.
Many Egyptologists deny that totemism entered as a force into the

affording an explanation of the animal-worship of the Egyptians."
Wherefore, it may be asked, was Egypt alone immune from the influence

as the guardians of this great fetish.[4]
But there are other and much more apparent proofs of the totemic nature

in Egypt no better proof could be adduced.
There is no reason to suppose, however, that in later times animals

part of the story at least was a priestly concoction.
But there was another version, obviously an account of the creation

time to be battered down by the ruthless artillery of fact.
We have references to other deities in the Pyramid Texts, some of whom

three provinces Khnemu was worshipped, and Hathor in six.
The Egyptian Idea of God
The word by which the Egyptians implied deity and, indeed, supernatural

religion in general during the ea

The Egyptian religion of the Middle and Late Kingdoms is a complex, multi-dimensional concept that has been largely ignored in recent years. This book is an important contribution to the understanding of the history of Egypt and its culture.

From Herodotus to The Mummy, Western civilization has long been fascinated with the exotic myths and legends of Ancient Egypt but they have often been misunderstood. Here acclaimed Egyptologist Joyce Tyldesley guides us through 3000 years of changing stories and, in retelling them, shows us what they mean. Gathered from pyramid friezes, archaological finds and contemporary documents, these vivid and strange stories explain everything from why the Nile flooded every year to their beliefs about what exactly happened after death and shed fascinating light on what life was like for both rich and p


Sophist

The Sophist, like the Phaedrus, has a double character, and unites two
      enquirers, which are only in a somewhat forced manner connected with each
      other. The first is the search after the Sophist, the second is the
      enquiry into the nature of Not-being, which occupies the middle part of
      the work. For 'Not-being' is the hole or division of the dialectical net
      in which the Sophist has hidden himself. He is the imaginary impersonation
      of false opinion. Yet he denies the possibility of false opinion; for
      falsehood is that which is not, and therefore has no existence. At length
      the difficulty is solved; the answer, in the language of the Republic,
      appears 'tumbling out at our feet.' Acknowledging that there is a
      communion of kinds with kinds, and not merely one Being or Good having
      different names, or several isolated ideas or classes incapable of
      communion, we discover 'Not-being' to be the other of 'Being.'
      Transferring this to language and thought, we have no difficulty in
      apprehending that a proposition may be false as well as true. The Sophist,
      drawn out of the shelter which Cynic and Megarian paradoxes have
      temporarily afforded him, is proved to be a dissembler and juggler with
      words.

The chief points of interest in the dialogue are: (I) the character
      attributed to the Sophist: (II) the dialectical method: (III) the nature
      of the puzzle about 'Not-being:' (IV) the battle of the philosophers: (V)
      the relation of the Sophist to other dialogues.

Many words are used both in a general and a specific sense, and the two
      senses are not always clearly distinguished. Sometimes the generic meaning
      has been narrowed to the specific, while in other cases the specific
      meaning has been enlarged or altered. Examples of the former class are
      furnished by some ecclesiastical terms: apostles, prophets, bishops,
      el

The ambiguity of the word is a matter of fact, and the meaning of the phrase is derived from the term 'theological'.

A fluent and accurate new translation of the dialogue that, of all Plato's works, has seemed to speak most directly to the interests of contemporary and analytical philosophers. White's extensive introduction explores the dialogue's central themes, its connection with related discussions in other dialogues, and its implicaiton for the interpretation of Plato's metaphysics.


The Sentimentalists

run—if they were not paralyzed by the mere sight of such individuals.
Nevertheless, they were a very happy pair and they were very

not soothe him, he was so furious.
"Cathy, give me Carson—and don't listen!" he said tensely.
He heard clickings on the two-way beam.
"My generator's gone," he said sourly when Carson answered. "I've

working! What is this all about, anyhow?"
The representative of the Cetis Gamma Trading Company sounded bored.
"You want a new generator sent out?" he asked without interest. "Your

crop credit's still all right—if the fields are in good shape."
"I want machinery that works!" Lon Simpson snapped. "I want machinery

stake you to next growing season."
"And if I don't?" demanded Lon. "Suppose I don't give you all my work

marry me?"
"Not over a beamphone, I hope," said Cathy.
He was abruptly sunk in gloom.
"That was a slip," he admitted. "I was going to wait until I got paid

another reason for the antiquated central station.
Cathy said brightly, "Yes, Lon?"
"I'll come in to town tonight," he said darkly. "Date?"
"Y-yes," stammered Cathy. "Oh, yes!"
He hung up and went back out to the field and the tractor. He began to

owned in land and machinery and agricultural instructions.
And there was Cathy. She owed for her passage. It would be years before

barracks. They might as well give up thinking about each other.
It was a system. Beautifully legal, absolutely airtight. Not a thing

the Company at a bare subsistence wage.
Lon Simpson was in the grip of that system. He had taken the generator

guided her thoughts to Cathy, in the beamphone exchange at Cetopolis.
"But it is terrible!" said Nodalictha in distress when she had absorbed

could put through whatever was hooked to it.
He no longer needed a new generator for his tractor. He had one.
He didn't even need a Diesel.
With adequate power—he'd been having to nurse the Diesel along,

was a frontier—and Lon talked extravagantly.
He had meant to explain painfully to Cathy t

The story of a young woman who is a farmer and has been a member of the Cetis Gamma Trading Company for many years. She is the daughter of Cathy Simpson, a local farmer who is in the grip of 'The Genes'.

THE SENTIMENTALISTS represents Robert Hugh Benson's first foray into "non-genre" fiction, as well as a significant and sensational switch from the historical novels by which he had achieved widespread popularity. This novel also marks Benson's change to an increasingly universal outlook, as well as to a more pointed form of satire, a quality that endeared him to Evelyn Waugh.