Vera, The Mediumby Richard Harding DavisPart IHappy in the hope that the news was "exclusive", the Despatchhad thrown the name of Stephen Hallowell, his portrait, apicture of his house, and the words, "At Point of Death!" acrossthree columns. The announcement was heavy, lachrymose, bristlingwith the melancholy self-importance of the man who "saw thedeceased, just two minutes before the train hit him."But the effect of the news fell short of the effort. Save thatcity editors were irritated that the presidents of certainrailroads figured hastily on slips of paper, the fact that an...　

IONby Platotranslated by Benjamin JowettIONPERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: SOCRATES; IONSocrates. Welcome, Ion. Are you from your native city of Ephesus?Ion. No, Socrates; but from Epidaurus, where I attended the festivalof Asclepius.Soc. And do the Epidaurians have contests of rhapsodes at thefestival?Ion. O yes; and of all sorts of musical performers.Soc. And were you one of the competitors- and did you succeed?Ion. I obtained the first prize of all, Socrates....　

THE SUPPLIANTSby Aeschylustranslated by E.D.A. MorsheadCHARACTERS IN THE PLAYDANAUSTHE KING OF ARGOSHERALD OF AEGYPTUSCHORUS OF THE DAUGHTERS OF DANAUSAttendantsSUPPLIANTS(SCENE:-A sacred precinct near the shore in Argos. Several statuesof the gods can be seen, as well as a large altar. As the playopens, DANAUS, and his fifty daughters, the maidens who composethe CHORUS, enter. Their costumes have an oriental richness about...　

TWICE-TOLD TALESETHAN BRANDA CHAPTER FROM AN ABORTIVE ROMANCEby Nathaniel HawthorneBARTRAM THE LIME-BURNER, a rough, heavy-looking man, begrimedwith charcoal, sat watching his kiln, at nightfall, while his littleson played at building houses with the scattered fragments ofmarble, when, on the hill-side below them, they heard a roar oflaughter, not mirthful, but slow, and even solemn, like a wind shakingthe boughs of the forest."Father, what is that?" asked the little boy, leaving his play, and...　

Black RockA TALE OF THE SELKIRKSby Ralph ConnorINTRODUCTIONI think I have met "Ralph Conner." Indeed, I am sure I haveoncein a canoe on the Red River, once on the Assinaboine, and twice orthrice on the prairies to the West. That was not the name he gaveme, but, if I am right, it covers one of the most honest and genialof the strong characters that are fighting the devil and doing goodwork for men all over the world. He has seen with his own eyes thelife which he describes in this book, and has himself, for someyears of hard and lonely toil, assisted in the good influences which...　

My Buried Treasureby Richard Harding DavisThis is a true story of a search for buried treasure. The onlypart that is not true is the name of the man with whom I searchedfor the treasure. Unless I keep his name out of it he will not letme write the story, and, as it was his expedition and as my shareof the treasure is only what I can make by writing the story, Imust write as he dictates. I think the story should be told,because our experience was unique, and might be of benefit toothers. And, besides, I need the money.There is, however, no agreement preventing me from describing him...　

Masterman Readyby Captain Marryat( Frederick Marryat )Chapter IIt was in the month of October, 18, that the Pacific, a large ship, was running before a heavy gale of wind in the middle of the vast Atlantic Ocean. She had but little sail, for the wind was so strong, that the canvas would have been split into pieces by the furious blasts before which she was driven through the waves, which were very high, and following her almost as fast as she darted through their boiling waters; sometimes heaving up her stern and sinking her bows down so deep into the hollow of the sea, that it appeared as if　

The Man From Glengarryby Ralph ConnorA TALE OF THE OTTAWADEDICATIONTO THE MEN OF GLENGARRY WHO IN PATIENCE, IN COURAGE AND IN THE FEAROF GOD ARE HELPING TO BUILD THE EMPIRE OF THE CANADIAN WEST THISBOOK IS HUMBLY DEDICATEDPREFACEThe solid forests of Glengarry have vanished, and with the foreststhe men who conquered them. The manner of life and the type ofcharacter to be seen in those early days have gone too, andforever. It is part of the purpose of this book to so picturethese men and their times that they may not drop quite out of mind....　

War and the Futureby H. G. WellsItaly, France and Britain at WarContentsThe Passing of the EffigyThe War in Italy (August, 1916)I. The Isonzo FrontII. The Mountain WarIII. Behind the FrontThe Western War (September, 1916)I. RuinsII. The Grades of WarIII. The War LandscapeIV. New Arms for Old OnesV. TanksHow People Think About the WarI. Do they Really Think at all?II. The Yielding Pacifist and the Conscientious ObjectorIII. The Religious RevivalIV. The Riddle of the BritishV. The Social Changes in ProgressVI. The Ending of the War...　

Lecture XXCONCLUSIONSThe material of our study of human nature is now spread beforeus; and in this parting hour, set free from the duty ofdescription, we can draw our theoretical and practicalconclusions. In my first lecture, defending the empiricalmethod, I foretold that whatever conclusions we might come tocould be reached by spiritual judgments only, appreciations ofthe significance for life of religion, taken "on the whole."Our conclusions cannot be as sharp as dogmatic conclusions would...　

Glaucus; or The Wonders of the Shoreby Charles KingsleyDedication.MY DEAR MISS GRENFELL,I CANNOT forego the pleasure of dedicating this little book to you;excepting of course the opening exhortation (needless enough inyour case) to those who have not yet discovered the value ofNatural History. Accept it as a memorial of pleasant hours spentby us already, and as an earnest, I trust, of pleasant hours to bespent hereafter (perhaps, too, beyond this life in the nobler worldto come), in examining together the works of our Father in heaven....　

An International Episodeby Henry JamesPART IFour years agoin 1874two young Englishmen had occasion to goto the United States. They crossed the ocean at midsummer,and, arriving in New York on the first day of August,were much struck with the fervid temperature of that city.Disembarking upon the wharf, they climbed into one of those hugehigh-hung coaches which convey passengers to the hotels,and with a great deal of bouncing and bumping, took theircourse through Broadway. The midsummer aspect of New York...　

The Swiss TwinsBy Lucy Fitch PerkinsCONTENTSI. THE RESPONSIBLE CUCKOOII. THE TWINS LEARN A NEW TRADEIII. A MOUNTAIN STORMIV. THE LONELY HERDSMANV. THE PASSVI. NEW FRIENDS AND OLDThis book belongs toI. THE RESPONSIBLE CUCKOOTHE RESPONSIBLE CUCKOOHigh on the kitchen wall of an old farm-house on a mountainsidein Switzerland there hangs a tiny wooden clock. In the tinywooden clock there lives a tiny wooden cuckoo, and every hour hehops out of his tiny wooden door, takes a look about to see whatis going on in the world, shouts out the time of day, and pops...　

Sally Dowsby Bret HarteCONTENTSSALLY DOWSTHE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKERTHE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMPTHEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIASALLY DOWS.PROLOGUE.THE LAST GUN AT SNAKE RIVER.What had been in the cool gray of that summer morning a dewycountry lane, marked only by a few wagon tracks that neverencroached upon its grassy border, and indented only by the faintfootprints of a crossing fox or coon, was now, before high noon,already crushed, beaten down, and trampled out of all semblance ofits former graciousness. The heavy springless jolt of gun-carriage...　

THE MASTER CAT; OR, PUSS IN BOOTSTHERE was a miller who left no more estate to the threesons he had than his mill, his ass, and his cat. Thepartition was soon made. Neither scrivener nor attorneywas sent for. They would soon have eaten up all the poorpatrimony. The eldest had the mill, the second the ass,and the youngest nothing but the cat. The poor youngfellow was quite comfortless at having so poor a lot."My brothers," said he, "may get their livinghandsomely enough by joining their stocks together; but formy part, when I have eaten up my cat, and made me a...　

　　I am a vampire. Blood does not bother me. I like blood. Even seeing my own blood does not frighten me. But what my blood can do to others-to the whole world for that matter-terrifies me. Once God made me take a vow to create no more vampires. Once I believed in God. But my belief, like my vow, has been shattered too many times in my long life. I am Alisa Perne, the now-forgotten Sita, child of a demon. I am the oldest living creature on earth.　　I awake in a living room smelling of death. I watch as my blood trickles through a thin plastic tube into the arm of Special Agent Joel Drake, FBI.