THE GUILLOTINE; brutal instantaneous bloody death, a hellish instrument of execution. It dominated the white-tiled room, a. metallic structure that gleamed evilly in the stark fluorescent light.　　　　Louis Nevillon was calm as his guards allowed him a few seconds to savour his fate. They were gloating, he could read it in their smug, supposedly impassive, expressions. Even the priest. Tete-de-chien! The executioner was masked, a custom that went back centuries, but there was a gleam in the pale blue eyes that stared out of the cloth slits that was unmistakable. It was Gallon, of course. Who e　

IN A HOLLOW OF THE HILLSIN A HOLLOW OF THEHILLSBret Bret Harte1- Page 2-IN A HOLLOW OF THE HILLSCHAPTERI.It was very dark, and the wind was increasing. The last gust hadbeen preceded by an ominous roaring down the whole mountain-side,which continued for some time after the trees in the little valley had lapsed...　

Ursulaby Honore de BalzacTranslated by Katharine Prescott WormeleyDEDICATIONTo Mademoiselle Sophie Surville,It is a true pleasure, my dear niece, to dedicate to you thisbook, the subject and details of which have won theapprobation, so difficult to win, of a young girl to whom theworld is still unknown, and who has compromised with none ofthe lofty principles of a saintly education. Young girls areindeed a formidable public, for they ought not to be allowedto read books less pure than the purity of their souls; they...　

The Land of the Changing Sunby William N. HarbenChapter I.The balloon seemed scarcely to move, though it was slowly sinking toward the ocean of white clouds which hung between it and the earth.The two inmates of the car were insensible; their faces were bloodless, their cheeks sunken. They were both young and handsome. Harry Johnston, an American, was as dark and sallow as a Spaniard. Charles Thorndyke, an English gentleman, had yellow hair and mustache, blue eyes and a fine intellectual face. Both were tall, athletic in build and well-proportioned.Johnston was the first to come to consciousn　

LEGENDS AND LYRICSFIRST SERIESLEGENDS ANDLYRICSFIRST SERIESby Adelaide Ann Proctor1- Page 2-LEGENDS AND LYRICSFIRST SERIESDEDICATIONTO MATILDA M. HAYS."Our tokens of love are for the most part barbarous. Cold and lifeless,because they do not represent our life. The only gift is a portion of...　

THE BIRTHMARKIn the latter part of the last century there lived a man ofscience, an eminent proficient in every branch of naturalphilosophy, who not long before our story opens had madeexperience of a spiritual affinity more attractive than anychemical one. He had left his laboratory to the care of anassistant, cleared his fine countenance from the furnace smoke,washed the stain of acids from his fingers, and persuaded abeautiful woman to become his wife. In those days when thecomparatively recent discovery of electricity and other kindredmysteries of Nature seemed to open paths into the regi　

The Coming RaceThe Coming Raceby Edward Bulwer, Lord Lytton1- Page 2-The Coming RaceCHAPTER I.I am a native of _____, in the United States of America. Myancestors migrated from England in the reign of Charles II.; and mygrandfather was not undistinguished in the War of Independence. Myfamily, therefore, enjoyed a somewhat high social position in right of birth;...　

The Hunchback of Notre Dameby Victor HugoPREFACE.A few years ago, while visiting or, rather, rummaging about Notre-Dame, the author of this book found, in an obscure nook of one of the towers, the following word, engraved by hand upon the wall:~ANArKH~.These Greek capitals, black with age, and quite deeply graven in the stone, with I know not what signs peculiar to Gothic caligraphy imprinted upon their forms and upon their attitudes, as though with the purpose of revealing that it had been a hand of the Middle Ages which had inscribed them there, and especially the fatal and melancholy meani　

The Friendly Road; New Adventures in Contentmentby David Grayson"Surely it is good to be alive at a time like this."A WORD TO HIM WHO OPENS THIS BOOKI did not plan when I began writing these chapters to make an entire book, but only to put down the more or less unusual impressions, the events and adventures, of certain quiet pilgrimages in country roads. But when I had written down all of these things, I found I had material in plenty."What shall I call it now that I have written it?" I asked myself.At first I thought I should call it "Adventures on the Road," or "The Country Road," or someth　

The Pension Beaurepasby Henry JamesCHAPTER I.I was not richon the contrary; and I had been told the PensionBeaurepas was cheap. I had, moreover, been told that a boarding-house is a capital place for the study of human nature. I had afancy for a literary career, and a friend of mine had said to me, "Ifyou mean to write you ought to go and live in a boarding-house; thereis no other such place to pick up material." I had read something ofthis kind in a letter addressed by Stendhal to his sister: "I have apassionate desire to know human nature, and have a great mind to live...　

Up From Slavery: An Autobiographyby Booker T. WashingtonUp From Slavery: An Autobiography by Booker T. WashingtonThis volume is dedicated to my Wife Margaret James Washington And to my Brother John H. Washington Whose patience, fidelity, and hard work have gone far to make the work at Tuskegee successful.PrefaceThis volume is the outgrowth of a series of articles, dealing with incidents in my life, which were published consecutively in the Outlook. While they were appearing in that magazine I was constantly surprised at the number of requests which came to me from all parts of the country, as　

A Book of Scoundrelsby Charles WhibleyTo the Greeks FOOLISHNESSCONTENTSINTRODUCTIONCAPTAIN HINDMOLL CUTPURSE AND JONATHAN WILDI. MOLL CUTPURSEII. JONATHAN WILDIII. A PARALLELRALPH BRISCOEGILDEROY AND SIXTEEN-STRING JACKI. GILDEROYII. SIXTEEN-STRING JACKIII. A PARALLELTHOMAS PURENEYSHEPPARD AND CARTOUCHEI. JACK SHEPPARDII. LOUIS-DOMINIQUE CARTOUCHEIII. A PARALLELVAUXGEORGE BARRINGTONTHE SWITCHER AND GENTLEMAN HARRYI. THE SWITCHERII. GENTLEMAN HARRY...　

On The Ruin of Britain (De Excidio Britanniae)by GildasTranslation by J.A. GilesThe Works of Gildas surnamed "Sapiens", or The Wise.I. The Preface1. Whatever in this my epistle I may write in my humble but wellmeaning manner, rather by way of lamentation than for display,let no one suppose that it springs from contempt of others or thatI foolishly esteem myself as better than they; -for alas! the subjectof my complaint is the general destruction of every thing that isgood, and the general growth of evil throughout the land;butthat I rejoice to see her revive therefrom: for it is my present...　

Little Travels and Roadside Sketchesby William Makepeace ThackerayI. FROM RICHMOND IN SURREY TO BRUSSELS IN BELGIUMII. GHENTBRUGES:Ghent (1840)BrugesIII. WATERLOOLITTLE TRAVELS AND ROADSIDE SKETCHESI.FROM RICHMOND IN SURREY TO BRUSSELS IN BELGIUM. . . I quitted the "Rose Cottage Hotel" at Richmond, one of thecomfortablest, quietest, cheapest, neatest little inns in England,and a thousand times preferable, in my opinion, to the "Star andGarter," whither, if you go alone, a sneering waiter, with his hair...　

The Financierby Theodore DreiserChapter IThe Philadelphia into which Frank Algernon Cowperwood was born was a city of two hundred and fifty thousand and more. It was set with handsome parks, notable buildings, and crowded with historic memories. Many of the things that we and he knew later were not then in existencethe telegraph, telephone, express company, ocean steamer, city delivery of mails. There were no postage-stamps or registered letters. The street car had not arrived. In its place were hosts of omnibuses, and for longer travel the slowly developing railroad system still largely　

The Queen of the Pirate Isleby Bret HarteI first knew her as the Queen of the Pirate Isle. To the best ofmy recollection she had no reasonable right to that title. She wasonly nine years old, inclined to plumpness and good humor,deprecated violence, and had never been to sea. Need it be addedthat she did NOT live in an island and that her name was Polly?Perhaps I ought to explain that she had already known otherexperiences of a purely imaginative character. Part of herexistence had been passed as a Beggar Child,solely indicated by ashawl tightly folded round her shoulders, and chills; as