WHY GO TO COLLEGE?WHY GO TOCOLLEGE?ALICE FREEMAN PALMERFormerly President of Wellesley College1- Page 2-WHY GO TO COLLEGE?To a largely increasing number of young girls college doors areopening every year. Every year adds to the number of men who feel as afriend of mine, a successful lawyer in a great city, felt when in talking ofthe future of his four little children he said, "For the two boys it is not so...　

A Millionaire of Rough-and-Readyby Bret HartePROLOGUEThere was no mistake this time: he had struck gold at last!It had lain there before him a moment agoa misshapen piece ofbrown-stained quartz, interspersed with dull yellow metal; yieldingenough to have allowed the points of his pick to penetrate itshoneycombed recesses, yet heavy enough to drop from the point ofhis pick as he endeavored to lift it from the red earth.He was seeing all this plainly, although he found himself, he knewnot why, at some distance from the scene of his discovery, hisheart foolishly beating, his breath impotently hu　

The Patricianby John GalsworthyCHAPTER ILight, entering the vast rooma room so high that its carved ceilingrefused itself to exact scrutinytravelled, with the wistful, coldcuriosity of the dawn, over a fantastic storehouse of Time. Light,unaccompanied by the prejudice of human eyes, made strange revelationof incongruities, as though illuminating the dispassionate march ofhistory.For in this dining hallone of the finest in Englandthe Caradocfamily had for centuries assembled the trophies and records of theirexistence. Round about this dining hall they had built and pulled...　

Lecture XIXOTHER CHARACTERISTICSWe have wound our way back, after our excursion through mysticismand philosophy, to where we were before: the uses of religion,its uses to the individual who has it, and the uses of theindividual himself to the world, are the best arguments thattruth is in it. We return to the empirical philosophy: the trueis what works well, even though the qualification "on the whole"may always have to be added. In this lecture we must revert todescription again, and finish our picture of the religious...　

Rezanovby Gertrude AthertonWith an Introduction byWILLIAM MARION REEDYINTRODUCTIONA long list of works Gertrude Atherton has to her credit as a writer. She is indisputably a woman of genius. Not that her genius is distinctively feminine, though she is in matters historical a pas- sionate partisan. Most of the critics who approve her work agree that in the main she views life with somewhat of the masculine spirit of liberality. She is as much the realist as one can be who is saturated with the romance that is California, her birthplace and her home, if such a true cosmopolite as she can be　

　　John Dean. Henry Kissinger. Adolph Hitler. Caryl Chessman. Jeb Magruder. Napoleon. Talleyrand. Disraeli. Robert Zimmerman, also known as Bob Dylan. Locke. Charlton Heston. Errol Flynn. The Ayatollah Khomeini. Gandhi. Charles Olson. Charles Colson. A Victorian Gentleman. Dr. X.　　Most people also believe that God has written a Book, or Books, telling what He did and why-at least to a degree-He did those things, and since most of these people also believe that humans were made in the image of God, then He also may be regarded as a person. . . or, mare properly, as a Person.　　Here are some peop　

　CHAPTER ONE　　It was a very fast killing.　Touch the needle to the left arm. Press your thumb in between the left bicep and the tricep to pump up the vein. Ah, there it is. Clear the air from the syringe. Then in. Full. Slowly push the plunger all the way.　Done.　. Remove the needle and let him collapse back again beside the chess table where he had fallen moments before. His head cracked on the polished parquet floor, and the killer could not help wincing, even though a man with a splendid overdose of heroin needs no sympathy.　"You know, my dear," said the man with the needle. "Some people pay　

　The solitary figure in the saffron robes shielded his eyes from the glare and squinted down the glacier to where the enormous black vessel lay, one-third submerged, in the floor of the valley. Allowing for the portion lost below the icy surface of the frozen lake it was easily some three hundred cubits long, at least fifty wide and another thirty high. It had, overall, the appearance of some fantastic barge with a kind of gabled house mounted upon its deck. Its gopher wood timbers were blackened by a heavy coating of pitch and hardened by the petrification of the glacier which had kept it vi　

　　His mind absorbed the scene before him, so quiet and calm and . . . normal. It was the life he had always wanted, a gathering of family and friends-he knew that they were just that, though the only one he recognized was his dear mother.　　This was the way it was supposed to be. The warmth and the love, the laughter and the quiet times. This was how he had always dreamed it would be, how he had always prayed it would be. The warm, inviting smiles. The pleasant conversation. The gentle pats on shoulders.　　But most of all there was the smile of his beloved mother, so happy now, no more a slave.　

A Far CountryBy Winston ChurchillI.My name is Hugh Paret. I was a corporation lawyer, but by no means atypical one, the choice of my profession being merely incidental, anddue, as will be seen, to the accident of environment. The book I amabout to write might aptly be called The Autobiography of a Romanticist.In that sense, if in no other, I have been a typical American, regardingmy country as the happy hunting-ground of enlightened self-interest, as afunction of my desires. Whether or not I have completely got rid of thisromantic virus I must leave to those the aim of whose existence is t　

THE MOUNTAINSTHE MOUNTAINSBY STEWART EDWARD WHITE1- Page 2-THE MOUNTAINSPREFACEThe author has followed a true sequence of events practically in allparticulars save in respect to the character of the Tenderfoot. He is in onesense fictitious; in another sense real. He is real in that he is theapotheosis of many tenderfeet, and that everything he does in this...　

THAISby ANATOLE FRANCETranslated by Robert B. DouglasCONTENTSPART I. THE LOTUSPART II. THE PAPYRUSTHE BANQUETTHE PAPYRUS (resumed)PART III. THE EUPHORBIATHAISPART THE FIRSTTHE LOTUSIn those days there were many hermits living in the desert. On bothbanks of the Nile numerous huts, built by these solitary dwellers, ofbranches held together by clay, were scattered at a little distancefrom each other, so that the inhabitants could live alone, and yethelp one another in case of need. Churches, each surmounted by a...　

THE MONSTER MENTHE MONSTER MENEdgar Rice Burroughs1- Page 2-THE MONSTER MEN1 THE RIFTAs he dropped the last grisly fragment of the dismembered andmutilated body into the small vat of nitric acid that was to devour everytrace of the horrid evidence which might easily send him to the gallows,the man sank weakly into a chair and throwing his body forward upon his...　

The North American Species of Cactus, Anhalonium, and Lophophoraby John M. CoulterA Preliminary Revision of the North American Species of Cactus, Anhalonium, and Lophophora by John M. Coulter.U. S. Department of Agriculture Division of Botany CONTRIBUTIONS FROM THE U. S. NATIONAL HERBARIUM Vol. IIINo. 2 Issued June 10, 1894 Preliminary Revision of the North American Species of Cactus, Anhalonium, and Lophophora. by John M. Coulter. Published by Authority of the Secretary of Agriculture Washington Government Printing Office 1894 LETTER OF TRANSMITTAL U. S. Department of Agriculture Divi　

　A sea of mist drifted through the cloud forest: soft, grey, luminescent. On the high ridges the fog showed brighter as the morning sun began to warm and lift the moisture, although in the ravine a cool, soundless dimness still counterfeited a pre-dawn twilight.　mander Cordelia Naismith glanced at her team botanist and adjusted the straps of her biological collecting equipment a bit more fortably before continuing her breathless climb. She pushed a long tendril of fog-dampened copper hair out of her eyes, clawing it impatiently toward the clasp at the nape of her neck. Their next survey area 　

　A few years ago, while I was writing Flood Tide, I realized that Dirk Pitt needed some help on a particular assignment, and so I dreamed up Juan Cabrillo.　Cabrillo ran a ship called the Oregon, on the outside pletely nondescript, but on the inside packed with state-of-the-art intelligence-gathering equipment. It was a pletely private enterprise, available for any government agency that could afford it. It went where no warship could go, transported secret cargo without suspicion, plucked data out of the airit was the perfect plement to NUMA.　In fact, I had so much fun writing about the Orego