The Great War Syndicateby Frank StocktonIn the spring of a certain year, not far from theclose of the nineteenth century, when the politicalrelations between the United States and Great Britainbecame so strained that careful observers on both sidesof the Atlantic were forced to the belief that aserious break in these relations might be looked for atany time, the fishing schooner Eliza Drum sailed froma port in Maine for the banks of Newfoundland.It was in this year that a new system of protectionfor American fishing vessels had been adopted in...　

The Origin and Nature of Emotionsby George W. CrileMiscellaneous PapersBYGEORGE W. CRILE, M.D.PROFESSOR OF SURGERY, SCHOOL OF MEDICINE, WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY VISITING SURGEON TO THE LAKESIDE HOSPITAL, CLEVELANDEDITED BY AMY F. ROWLAND, B. S.PREFACEIN response to numerous requests I have brought together into this volume eight papers which may serve as a supplement to the volumes previously published[*] and as a preface to monographs now in preparation.[*] Surgical Shock, 1899; Surgery of the Respiratory System, 1899; Problems Relating to Surgical Operations, 1901; Blood Pressure in Surge　

The CenciBy Alexander Dumas, pereTHE CENCI1598Should you ever go to Rome and visit the villa Pamphili, no doubt,after having sought under its tall pines and along its canals theshade and freshness so rare in the capital of the Christian world,you will descend towards the Janiculum Hill by a charming road, inthe middle of which you will find the Pauline fountain. Havingpassed this monument, and having lingered a moment on the terrace ofthe church of St. Peter Montorio, which commands the whole of Rome,you will visit the cloister of Bramante, in the middle of which, sunk...　

The Gentle Grafterby O. HenryCONTENTSI. The Octopus MaroonedII. Jeff Peters as a Personal MagnetIII. Modern Rural SportsIV. The Chair of PhilanthromathematicsV. The Hand That Riles the WorldVI. The Exact Science of MatrimonyVII. A Midsummer MasqueradeVIII. Shearing the WolfIX. Innocents of BroadwayX. Conscience in ArtXI. The Man Higher UpXII. A Tempered WindXIII. Hostages to MomusXIV. The Ethics of PigTHE GENTLE GRAFTERITHE OCTOPUS MAROONED"A trust is its weakest point," said Jeff Peters."That," said I, "sounds like one of those unintelligible remarks such...　

Alexandria and her Schoolsby Charles KingsleyPREFACEI should not have presumed to choose for any lectures of mine such a subject as that which I have tried to treat in this book. The subject was chosen by the Institution where the lectures were delivered. Still less should I have presumed to print them of my own accord, knowing how fragmentary and crude they are. They were printed at the special request of my audience. Least of all, perhaps, ought I to have presumed to publish them, as I have done, at Cambridge, where any inaccuracy or sciolism (and that such defects exist in these pages,　

Noto, an unexplored corner of Japanby Percival LowellFrom you, my dear Basil, the confidant of my hopes toward Noto, Iknow I may look for sympathy now that my advances have met with suchhappy issue, however incomplete be my account. And so I ask you tobe my best man in the matter before the world.Ever yours,Percival Lowell.Basil Hall Chamberlain, Esq.Contents.I. An Unknown.II. Off and On.III. The Usui Pass.IV. Zenkoji.V. No.VI. On a New Cornice Road....　

The Man of the Forestby Zane GreyCHAPTER IAt sunset hour the forest was still, lonely, sweet with tangof fir and spruce, blazing in gold and red and green; andthe man who glided on under the great trees seemed to blendwith the colors and, disappearing, to have become a part ofthe wild woodland.Old Baldy, highest of the White Mountains, stood up roundand bare, rimmed bright gold in the last glow of the settingsun. Then, as the fire dropped behind the domed peak, achange, a cold and darkening blight, passed down the blackspear-pointed slopes over all that mountain world....　

STAGE-LANDby Jerome K. JeromeTOTHAT HIGHLY RESPECTABLE BUT UNNECESSARILYRETIRING INDIVIDUAL,OF WHOMWE HEAR SO MUCHBUTSEE SO LITTLE,"THE EARNEST STUDENT OF THE DRAMA,"THIS(COMPARATIVELY) TRUTHFUL LITTLE BOOKIS LOVINGLY DEDICATED.CONTENTS.THE HEROTHE VILLAINTHE HEROINETHE COMIC MANTHE LAWYERTHE ADVENTURESSTHE SERVANT GIRLTHE CHILDTHE COMIC LOVERSTHE PEASANTSTHE GOOD OLD MANTHE IRISHMANTHE DETECTIVETHE SAILORSTAGE-LAND.THE HERO.His name is George, generally speaking. "Call me George!" he says to...　

Moments of Vision and Miscellaneous Versesby Thomas HardyContents:Moments of VisionThe Voice of Things"Why be at pains?""We sat at the window"Afternoon Service at MellstockAt the Wicket-gateIn a MuseumApostrophe to an Old Psalm TuneAt the Word "Farewell"First Sight of Her and AfterThe RivalHeredity"You were the sort that men forget"She, I, and TheyNear Lanivet, 1872Joys of MemoryTo the MoonCopying Architecture in an Old MinsterTo ShakespeareQuid hic agis?On a Midsummer EveTiming HerBefore KnowledgeThe Blinded Bird...　

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENTHE OLD GRAVE-STONEby Hans Christian AndersenIN a house, with a large courtyard, in a provincial town, atthat time of the year in which people say the evenings are growinglonger, a family circle were gathered together at their old home. Alamp burned on the table, although the weather was mild and warm,and the long curtains hung down before the open windows, and withoutthe moon shone brightly in the dark-blue sky.But they were not talking of the moon, but of a large, old stone...　

Indian Heroes and Great Chieftainsby Charles A. EastmanCONTENTS1. RED CLOUD2. SPOTTED TAIL3. LITTLE CROW4. TAMAHAY5. GALL6. CRAZY HORSE7. SITTING BULL8. RAIN-IN-THE-FACE9. TWO STRIKE10. AMERICAN HORSE11. DULL KNIFE12. ROMAN NOSE13. CHIEF JOSEPH14. LITTLE WOLF15. HOLE-IN-THE-DAYRED CLOUDEVERY age, every race, has its leaders and heroes. There were oversixty distinct tribes of Indians on this continent, each of which...　

TWICE-TOLD TALESTHE BIRTHMARKby Nathaniel HawthorneIN 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, washedthe stain of acids from his fingers, and persuaded a beautiful woman...　

　　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. 　

IN A FAR COUNTRY.WHEN A MAN JOURNEYS into a far country, he must be prepared toforget many of the things he has learned, and to acquire suchcustoms as are inherent with existence in the new land; he mustabandon the old ideals and the old gods, and oftentimes he mustreverse the very codes by which his conduct has hitherto beenshaped. To those who have the protean faculty of adaptability, thenovelty of such change may even be a source of pleasure; but tothose who happen to be hardened to the ruts in which they werecreated, the pressure of the altered environment is unbearable, and...　

Herodiasby Gustave FlaubertCHAPTER IIn the eastern side of the Dead Sea rose the citadel of Machaerus. Itwas built upon a conical peak of basalt, and was surrounded by fourdeep valleys, one on each side, another in front, and the fourth inthe rear. At the base of the citadel, crowding against one another, agroup of houses stood within the circle of a wall, whose outlinesundulated with the unevenness of the soil. A zigzag road, cuttingthrough the rocks, joined the city to the fortress, the walls of whichwere about one hundred and twenty cubits high, having numerous angles...　

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...