The Memorabiliaor Recollections of Socratesby XenophonTranslation by H. G. DakynsXenophon the Athenian was born 431 B.C. He was apupil of Socrates. He marched with the Spartans,and was exiled from Athens. Sparta gave him landand property in Scillus, where he lived for manyyears before having to move once more, to settlein Corinth. He died in 354 B.C.The Memorabilia is a recollection of Socrates inword and deed, to show his character as the bestand happiest of men.BOOK III have often wondered by what arguments those who indicted[1] Socrates...
Mementos of Boabdil.WHILE my mind was still warm with the subject of the unfortunateBoabdil, I set forth to trace the mementos of him still existing inthis scene of his sovereignty and misfortunes. In the Tower ofComares, immediately under the Hall of Ambassadors, are two vaultedrooms, separated by a narrow passage; these are said to have beenthe prisons of himself and his mother, the virtuous Ayxa la Horra;indeed, no other part of the tower would have served for thepurpose. The external walls of these chambers are of prodigious...
As usual, I am indebted to a variety of people for their help and input in writing this volume. Not the least of whom is Master Robinton (aka Frederic H. Robinson) who was quite upset that I had ended his life so abruptly. I would suspect it of a tenor, but for a baritone to insist on another encore is almost unheard of. But I have recently been asked - via the impressive Del Rey Website - to explain certain facts which had not previously been brought to light anent Pern pre-Dragon flight history. As Robinton had a fine Pernese hand in most of it, it behoves me to tell the story from his v
March 9, 1918Caribbean SeaThe Cyclops had less than one hour to live. In forty-eight minutes she would bee a mass tomb for her 309 passengers and crew a tragedy unforeseen and unheralded by ominous premonitions, mocked by an empty sea and a diamond-clear sky. Even the seagulls that had haunted her wake for the past week darted and soared in languid indifference, their keen instincts dulled by the mild weather.There was a slight breeze from the southeast that barely curled the American flag on her stern. At three-thirty in the morning, most of the off-duty crewmen and passengers were asleep. A
THE HAZEL-NUT CHILD [29][29] From the Bukowniaer. Van Wliolocki.There was once upon a time a couple who had no children, and theyprayed Heaven every day to send them a child, though it were nobigger than a hazel-nut. At last Heaven heard their prayer andsent them a child exactly the size of a hazel-nut, and it nevergrew an inch. The parents were very devoted to the littlecreature, and nursed and tended it carefully. Their tiny son toowas as clever as he could be, and so sharp and sensible that allthe neighbours marvelled over the wise things he said and did....
THE TRUE HISTORY OF LITTLE GOLDENHOODYOU know the tale of poor Little Red Riding-hood, that the Wolfdeceived and devoured, with her cake, her little butter can,and her Grandmother; well, the true story happened quite differently,as we know now. And first of all the little girl was called andis still called Little Golden-hood; secondly, it was not she, nor thegood grand-dame, but the wicked Wolf who was, in the end, caughtand devoured.Only listen.The story begins something like the tale.There was once a little peasant girl, pretty and nice as a star in...
Theodore Roosevelt; An Intimate Biography,by William Roscoe Thayer1919PREFACEIn finishing the correction of the last proofs of this sketch, I perceive that some of those who read it may suppose that I planned to write a deliberate eulogy of Theodore Roosevelt. This is not true. I knew him for forty years, but I never followed his political leadership. Our political differences, however, never lessened our personal friendship. Sometimes long intervals elapsed between our meetings, but when we met it was always with the same intimacy, and when we wrote it was with the same candor. I count it fo
The Water-Babiesby Charles KingsleyCHAPTER I"I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined; In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind."To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think, What man has made of man."WORDSWORTH.Once upon a time there was a little chimney-sweep, and his name was Tom. That is a short name, and you have heard it before, so you will not have much trouble in remembering it. He lived in a great town in the North country, where there were plenty of chimneys to
Tales of the Fish Patrolby Jack LondonWHITE AND YELLOWSan Francisco Bay is so large that often its storms are moredisastrous to ocean-going craft than is the ocean itself in itsviolent moments. The waters of the bay contain all manner of fish,wherefore its surface is ploughed by the keels of all manner offishing boats manned by all manner of fishermen. To protect thefish from this motley floating population many wise laws have beenpassed, and there is a fish patrol to see that these laws areenforced. Exciting times are the lot of the fish patrol: in its...
Walkingby Henry David ThoreauI wish to speak a word for Nature, for absolute freedom andwildness, as contrasted with a freedom and culture merelycivilto regard man as an inhabitant, or a part and parcel ofNature, rather than a member of society. I wish to make anextreme statement, if so I may make an emphatic one, for thereare enough champions of civilization: the minister and the schoolcommittee and every one of you will take care of that.I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my lifewho understood the art of Walking, that is, of taking walkswho...
The Quaker Colonies, A Chronicle of the Proprietors of the Delawareby Sydney G. FisherCONTENTSI. THE BIRTH OF PENNSYLVANIAII. PENN SAILS FOR THE DELAWAREIII. LIFE IN PHILADELPHIAIV. TYPES OF THE POPULATIONV. THE TROUBLES OF PENN AND HIS SONSVI. THE FRENCH AND INDIAN WARVII. THE DECLINE OF QUAKER GOVERNMENTVIII. THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW JERSEYIX. PLANTERS AND TRADERS OF SOUTHERN JERSEYX. SCOTCH COVENANTERS AND OTHERS IN EAST JERSEYXI. THE UNITED JERSEYSXII. LITTLE DELAWAREXIII. THE ENGLISH CONQUESTBIBLIOGRAPHYTHE QUAKER COLONIES...
The Rivermanby Stewart Edward WhiteIThe time was the year 1872, and the place a bend in the river abovea long pond terminating in a dam. Beyond this dam, and on a flatlower than it, stood a two-story mill structure. Save for a small,stump-dotted clearing, and the road that led from it, all else wasforest. Here in the bottom-lands, following the course of thestream, the hardwoods grew dense, their uppermost branches justbeginning to spray out in the first green of spring. Farther back,where the higher lands arose from the swamp, could be discerned the...
When the Sleeper Wakesby H. G. [Herbert George] WellsCHAPTER IINSOMNIAOne afternoon, at low water, Mr. Isbister, a youngartist lodging at Boscastle, walked from that place tothe picturesque cove of Pentargen, desiring to examinethe caves there. Halfway down the precipitous pathto the Pentargen beach he came suddenly upon a mansitting in an attitude of profound distress beneatha projecting mass of rock. The hands of this manhung limply over his knees, his eyes were red andstaring before him, and his face was wet with tears....
The Bohemian GirlThe transcontinental express swung along the windings of theSand River Valley, and in the rear seat of the observation car ayoung man sat greatly at his ease, not in the least discomfited bythe fierce sunlight which beat in upon his brown face and neck andstrong back. There was a look of relaxation and of great passivityabout his broad shoulders, which seemed almost too heavy until hestood up and squared them. He wore a pale flannel shirt and a bluesilk necktie with loose ends. His trousers were wide and belted at...
STORIES BY ENGLISH AUTHORS: LONDONFrom ScribnersCONTENTSTHE INCONSIDERATE WAITER, J. M. BarrieTHE BLACK POODLE, F. AnsteyTHAT BRUTE SIMMONS, Arthur MorrisonA ROSE OF THE GHETTO, I. ZangwillAN IDYL OF LONDON, Beatrice HarradenTHE OMNIBUS, "Q" [Quiller-Couch]THE HIRED BABY, Marie CorrelliTHE INCONSIDERATE WAITERBYJ. M. BARRIEFrequently I have to ask myself in the street for the name of the manI bowed to just now, and then, before I can answer, the wind of thefirst corner blows him from my memory. I have a theory, however, that...
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENTHE HAPPY FAMILYby Hans Christian AndersenTHE largest green leaf in this country is certainly theburdock-leaf. If you hold it in front of you, it is large enough foran apron; and if you hold it over your head, it is almost as good asan umbrella, it is so wonderfully large. A burdock never growsalone; where it grows, there are many more, and it is a splendidsight; and all this splendor is good for snails. The great whitesnails, which grand people in olden times used to have made into...