THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMESA Case of Identity"My dear fellow," said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side ofthe fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, "life is infinitelystranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. Wewould not dare to conceive the things which are really merecommonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that windowhand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the roofs,and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the strange...
A Summer in a Canyon: A California Storyby Kate Douglas WigginSCENE: A Camping Ground in the Canyon Las Flores.PEOPLE IN THE TENTS.DR. PAUL WINSHIP Mine HostMRS. TRUTH WINSHIP The Guardian AngelDICKY WINSHIP A Small Scamp of Six YearsBELL WINSHIP The Camp PoetessPOLLY OLIVER A Sweet but Saucy LassMARGERY NOBLE A Nut-Brown MaydePHILIP NOBLE The Useful MemberGEOFFREY STRONG A Harvard BoyJACK HOWARD Prince of MischiefHOP YET A Heathen Chinee....
THE YOUNG MAN WHO WOULD HAVE HIS EYES OPENEDOnce upon a time there lived a youth who was never happy unlesshe was prying into something that other people knew nothingabout. After he had learned to understand the language of birdsand beasts, he discovered accidentally that a great deal tookplace under cover of night which mortal eyes never saw. Fromthat moment he felt he could not rest till these hidden secretswere laid bare to him, and he spent his whole time wandering fromone wizard to another, begging them to open his eyes, but foundnone to help him. At length he reached an old magician
Tea-table Talkby Jerome K. JeromeCHAPTER I"They are very pretty, some of them," said the Woman of the World; "not the sort of letters I should have written myself.""I should like to see a love-letter of yours," interrupted the Minor Poet."It is very kind of you to say so," replied the Woman of the World. "It never occurred to me that you would care for one.""It is what I have always maintained," retorted the Minor Poet; "you have never really understood me.""I believe a volume of assorted love-letters would sell well," said the Girton Girl; "written by the same hand, if you like, but to diffe
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.
400 BCON ULCERSby Hippocratestranslated by Francis AdamsWe must avoid wetting all sorts of ulcers except with wine, unlessthe ulcer be situated in a joint. For, the dry is nearer to the sound,and the wet to the unsound, since an ulcer is wet, but a sound part isdry. And it is better to leave the part without a bandage unless aunless a cataplasm be applied. Neither do certain ulcers admit of...
History Of The Britons (Historia Brittonum)by NenniusTranslated by J. A. GilesI. The Prologue.1. Nennius, the lowly minister and servant of the servants ofGod, by the grace of God, disciple of St. Elbotus,* to all thefollowers of truth sendeth health.* Or Elvod, bishop of Bangor, A.D. 755, who first adopted in theCambrian church the new cycle for regulating Easter.Be it known to your charity, that being dull in intellect andrude of speech, I have presumed to deliver these things in theLatin tongue, not trusting to my own learning, which is little...
The Colour of Lifeby Alice MeynellContents:The Colour of LifeA Point Of BiographyCloudWinds of the WorldThe Honours of MortalityAt Monastery GatesRushes and ReedsEleonora DuseDonkey RacesGrassA Woman in GreySymmetry and IncidentThe Illusion of Historic TimeEyesTHE COLOUR OF LIFERed has been praised for its nobility as the colour of life. Butthe true colour of life is not red. Red is the colour of violence,or of life broken open, edited, and published. Or if red is indeed...
Padre IgnacioOr The Song of Temptationby Owen WisterIAt Santa Ysabel del Mar the season was at one of those moments when theair rests quiet over land and sea. The old breezes were gone; the newones were not yet risen. The flowers in the mission garden opened wide;no wind came by day or night to shake the loose petals from their stems.Along the basking, silent, many-colored shore gathered and lingered thecrisp odors of the mountains. The dust hung golden and motionless longafter the rider was behind the hill, and the Pacific lay like a floor of...
The Yellow Godor An Idol of Africaby H. Rider HaggardCHAPTER ISAHARA LIMITEDSir Robert Aylward, Bart., M.P., sat in his office in the City ofLondon. It was a very magnificent office, quite one of the finest thatcould be found within half a mile of the Mansion House. Its exteriorwas built of Aberdeen granite, a material calculated to impress theprospective investor with a comfortable sense of security. Otherstucco, or even brick-built, offices might crumble and fall in anactual or a financial sense, but this rock-like edifice of granite,surmounted by a life-sized statue of Justice with her sca
THE RED ONETHE RED ONEby Jack London1- Page 2-THE RED ONETHE RED ONETHERE it was! The abrupt liberation of sound! As he timed it withhis watch, Bassett likened it to the trump of an archangel. Walls of cities,he meditated, might well fall down before so vast and compelling asummons. For the thousandth time vainly he tried to analyse the tone-...
The Argonauts of North Libertyby Bret HartePART ICHAPTER IThe bell of the North Liberty Second Presbyterian Church had justceased ringing. North Liberty, Connecticut, never on any day acheerful town, was always bleaker and more cheerless on theseventh, when the Sabbath sun, after vainly trying to coax a smileof reciprocal kindliness from the drawn curtains and half-closedshutters of the austere dwellings and the equally sealed and hard-set churchgoing faces of the people, at last settled down into ablank stare of stony astonishment. On this chilly March evening of...
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PRIVATE LIFE OF NAPOLEON, V12BY CONSTANTPREMIER VALET DE CHAMBRETRANSLATED BY WALTER CLARK1895CONTENTS:CHAPTER XXIV. to CHAPTER XXXI.CHAPTER XXIV.After the brilliant successes obtained by the Emperor in such a shorttime, and with forces so exceedingly inferior to the great masses of theenemy, his Majesty, realizing the necessity of allowing his troops totake a rest of some days at Troyes, entered into negotiations for anarmistice with the Prince von Schwarzenberg.At this juncture it was announced to the Emperor that General Blucher,...
The Village Watch-Towerby Kate Douglas WigginDear old apple-tree, under whose gnarled branches thesestories were written, to you I dedicate the book. My head wasso close to you, who can tell from whence the thoughts came?I only know that when all the other trees in the orchard were barren,there were always stories to be found under your branches, and so itis our joint book, dear apple-tree. Your pink blossoms have fallenon the page as I wrote; your ruddy fruit has dropped into my lap;the sunshine streamed through your leaves and tipped my pencil with gold....
The Rise and Progress of Palaeontologyby Thomas Henry HuxleyThat application of the sciences of biology and geology, whichis commonly known as palaeontology, took its origin in the mindof the first person who, finding something like a shell, or abone, naturally imbedded in gravel or rock, indulged inspeculations upon the nature of this thing which he had dug outthis "fossil"and upon the causes which had brought it intosuch a position. In this rudimentary form, a high antiquity maysafely be ascribed to palaeontology, inasmuch as we know that,...
The Bean-FieldMeanwhile my beans, the length of whose rows, added together,was seven miles already planted, were impatient to be hoed, for theearliest had grown considerably before the latest were in theground; indeed they were not easily to be put off. What was themeaning of this so steady and self-respecting, this small Herculeanlabor, I knew not. I came to love my rows, my beans, though so manymore than I wanted. They attached me to the earth, and so I gotstrength like Antaeus. But why should I raise them? Only Heaven...