FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENTHE PRINCESS AND THE PEAby Hans Christian AndersenONCE upon a time there was a prince who wanted to marry aprincess; but she would have to be a real princess. He travelled allover the world to find one, but nowhere could he get what he wanted.There were princesses enough, but it was difficult to find out whetherthey were real ones. There was always something about them that wasnot as it should be. So he came home again and was sad, for he wouldhave liked very much to have a real princess....　

Chapter VI of Volume III (Chap. 48)THE whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the next morning, but the post came in without bringing a single line from him. His family knew him to be, on all common occasions, a most negligent and dilatory correspondent, but at such a time they had hoped for exertion. They were forced to conclude that he had no pleasing intelligence to send, but even of that they would have been glad to be certain. Mr. Gardiner had waited only for the letters before he set off.When he was gone, they were certain at least of receiving constant information of wha　

ADVERTISEMENT TO EDITION 1829It has been the occasional occupation of the Author of Waverley forseveral years past to revise and correct the voluminous series ofNovels which pass under that name, in order that, if they shouldever appear as his avowed productions, he might render them insome degree deserving of a continuance of the public favour withwhich they have been honoured ever since their first appearance. Fora long period, however, it seemed likely that the improved and illustratededition which he meditated would be a posthumous publication.But the course of the events which occasioned　

　　While Europe was a collection of warring tribes and Rome merely another city-state on the Tiber and the people of Israel shepherds in the Judean hills, a little girl could carry a sack of diamonds across the Loni Empire in East Africa and never fear even one being taken from her. If she suffered an injured eye, here alone in all the world were men who could repair it. In any village she could receive a parchment for her jewels, take it to any other village, then collect gems of exactly identical weight and purity. Waters from the great Busati River were stored in artificial lakes and channe　

　　By P. G. Wodehouse　　1　In a day in June, at the hour when London moves abroad in quest of lunch, a young man stood at the entrance of the Bandolero Restaurant looking earnestly up Shaftesbury Avenuea large young man in excellent condition, with a pleasant, good-humoured, brown, clean-cut face. He paid no attention to the stream of humanity that flowed past him. His mouth was set and his eyes wore a serious, almost a wistful expression. He was frowning slightly. One would have said that here was a man with a secret sorrow.　William FitzWilliam Delamere Chalmers, Lord Dawlish, had no secret sor　

　　　Fire from the sky came thrusting down, a dazzling crooked spear of white light that lived for an instant only, long enough to splinter a lone tree at the jutting edge of the seaside cliff. The impact beneath the howling darkness of the sky stunned eyes and ears alike. Ben winced away from the blinding flash - too late, of course, to do his shocked eyes any good - and turned his gaze downward, trying to see the path again, to find secure places to put down his sandaled feet. In night and wind and rain it was hard to judge how far away the stroke had fallen, but he could hope that the next o　

　Up at the unpeopled borderland of cloudy heaven, where unending wind drove eternal snow between and over high gray rocks, the gods and goddesses were gathering.　In the grayness just before dawn, their tall forms came like smoke out of the gray and smoking wind, to take on solidity and detail. Unperturbed by wind or weather, their garments flapping in the shrieking howl of air, they stood upon the rooftop of the world and waited as their numbers grew. Steadily more powers streaked across the sky, bringing reinforcement.　The shortest of the standing figures was taller than humanity, but from t　

　　D 0 R T M U N D E R, wearing black and carrying his canvas bag of burglar tools, walked across the rooftops from the parking garage on the corner. At the sixth roof, he looked over the front edge to be absolutely sure he was on the right building, and felt dizzy for just a second when he saw the distant street six stories down, floating like a ship in the glare of streetlights. Cars were parked along both sides, leaving one black lane open in the middle. A cab was going by down there, its yellow top glinting in the light. Behind the cab came a slow-moving police car; the unlit flasher dome 　

THE SKETCH BOOKWESTMINSTER ABBEYby Washington IrvingWhen I behold, with deep astonishment,To famous Westminster how there resorteLiving in brasse or stoney monument,The princes and the worthies of all sorte;Doe not I see reformde nobilitie,Without contempt, or pride, or ostentation,And looke upon offenselesse majesty,Naked of pomp or earthly domination?And how a play-game of a painted stone...　

Warlord of Marsby Edgar Rice BurroughsCONTENTSOn the River IssUnder the MountainsThe Temple of the SunThe Secret TowerOn the Kaolian RoadA Hero in KaolNew AlliesThrough the Carrion CavesWith the Yellow MenIn DuranceThe Pity of Plenty"Follow the Rope!"The Magnet SwitchThe Tide of BattleRewardsThe New RulerTHE WARLORD OF MARSON THE RIVER ISSIn the shadows of the forest that flanks the crimson plain by...　

ClocksClocksby Jerome K. Jerome1- Page 2-ClocksThere are two kinds of clocks. There is the clock that is alwayswrong, and that knows it is wrong, and glories in it; and there is the clockthat is always rightexcept when you rely upon it, and then it is morewrong than you would think a clock _could_ be in a civilized country.I remember a clock of this latter type, that we had in the house when I...　

1872FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENTHE SUNBEAM AND THE CAPTIVEby Hans Christian AndersenIT is autumn. We stand on the ramparts, and look out over the sea.We look at the numerous ships, and at the Swedish coast on theopposite side of the sound, rising far above the surface of the waterswhich mirror the glow of the evening sky. Behind us the wood issharply defined; mighty trees surround us, and the yellow leavesflutter down from the branches. Below, at the foot of the wall, standsa gloomy looking building enclosed in palisades. The space betweenis dark and narrow, but still more dismal m　

BUTTERCUP GOLD AND OTHER STORIESBUTTERCUP GOLDAND OTHER STORIESEllen Robena Field1- Page 2-BUTTERCUP GOLD AND OTHER STORIESThe Little New YearOne cold morning Maurice awoke from his dreams and sat up in bedand listened. He thought he heard a knock at his window; but though themoon was shining brightly, Jack Frost had been so busily at work thatMaurice could not see through the thickly painted panes. So he crept...　

FEMALE EDUCATION_To Nathaniel Burwell__Monticello, March 14, 1818_DEAR SIR, Your letter of February 17th found me sufferingunder an attack of rheumatism, which has but now left me atsufficient ease to attend to the letters I have received. A plan offemale education has never been a subject of systematic contemplationwith me. It has occupied my attention so far only as the educationof my own daughters occasionally required. Considering that theywould be placed in a country situation, where little aid could be...　

　　　　　　She was sitting there at her glass, at the fashionable going-out hour, trying to decide between a cluster of crystal grapes and a live gardenia as a shoulder decoration, when someone knocked at the suite door, outside across the adjoining reception room.　　Whatever her decision was in the matter, she knew it would have a city-wide effect. It meant that for the next few weeks hundreds of young women would either all be wearing clusters of crystal grapes or live gardenias.　　It was hard to believe that just a couple of brief years ago no one had cared a rap what she stuck on her shoulder. N　

　BY THE TIME they have finished this book, many readers will be uneasy, frightened, perhaps even horrified. Once entertained, however, they will be tempted to dismiss Night Chills as quickly as they might a novel about demonic possession or reincarnation. Although this story is intended primarily to be a "good read," I cannot stress strongly enough that the basic subject matter is more than merely a fantasy of mine; it is a reality and already a major influence on all our lives.　Subliminal and subaudial advertising, carefully planned manipulation of our subconscious minds, became a serious th