SHERLOCK HOLMESTHE BOSCOMBE VALLEY MYSTERYby Sir Arthur Conan DoyleWe were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when themaid brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran inthis way:Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for fromthe west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy.Shall be glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect. LeavePaddington by the 11:15."What do you say, dear?" said my wife, looking across at me. "Will...　

A Wagner MatineeI received one morning a letter, written in pale ink onglassy, blue-lined notepaper, and bearing the postmark of alittle Nebraska village. This communication, worn and rubbed,looking as though it had been carried for some days in a coatpocket that was none too clean, was from my Uncle Howard andinformed me that his wife had been left a small legacy by abachelor relative who had recently died, and that it would benecessary for her to go to Boston to attend to the settling ofthe estate. He requested me to meet her at the station and...　

Confidence by Henry JamesCHAPTER IIt was in the early days of April; Bernard Longueville had been spending the winter in Rome. He had travelled northward with the consciousness of several social duties that appealed to him from the further side of the Alps, but he was under the charm of the Italian spring, and he made a pretext for lingering. He had spent five days at Siena, where he had intended to spend but two, and still it was impossible to continue his journey. He was a young man of a contemplative and speculative turn, and this was his first visit to Italy, so that if he dallied by the　

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMELTHREE MEN ON THEBUMMELby Jerome K. Jerome1- Page 2-THREE MEN ON THE BUMMELCHAPTER IThree men need changeAnecdote showing evil result of deceptionMoral cowardice of GeorgeHarris has ideasYarn of the AncientMariner and the Inexperienced YachtsmanA hearty crewDanger ofsailing when the wind is off the landImpossibility of sailing when the...　

THE DEVOTED FRIENDOne morning the old Water-rat put his head out of his hole. He hadbright beady eyes and stiff grey whiskers and his tail was like along bit of black india-rubber. The little ducks were swimmingabout in the pond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, andtheir mother, who was pure white with real red legs, was trying toteach them how to stand on their heads in the water."You will never be in the best society unless you can stand on yourheads," she kept saying to them; and every now and then she showedthem how it was done. But the little ducks paid no attention to...　

　　PREFACE　... And behind the Northern Armies came another army of men. They came by the hundreds, yet each traveled alone. They came on foot, by mule, on horseback, on creaking wagons or riding in handsome chaises. They were of all shapes and sizes and descended from many nationalities. They wore dark suits, usually covered with the gray dust of travel, and dark, broad-brimmed hats to shield their white faces from the hot, unfamiliar sun. And on their back, or across their saddle, or on top of their wagon was the inevitable faded multicolored bag made of worn and ragged remnants of carpet int　

Chapter II of Volume III (Chap. 44)ELIZABETH had settled it that Mr. Darcy would bring his sister to visit her the very day after her reaching Pemberley; and was consequently resolved not to be out of sight of the inn the whole of that morning. But her conclusion was false; for on the very morning after their own arrival at Lambton, these visitors came. They had been walking about the place with some of their new friends, and were just returned to the inn to dress themselves for dining with the same family, when the sound of a carriage drew them to a window, and they saw a gentleman and lady 　

Part 8My poor afflicted governess was now as much concerned asI, and a great deal more truly penitent, though she had noprospect of being brought to trial and sentence. Not but thatshe deserved it as much as I, and so she said herself; but shehad not done anything herself for many years, other thanreceiving what I and others stole, and encouraging us to stealit. But she cried, and took on like a distracted body, wringingher hands, and crying out that she was undone, that shebelieved there was a curse from heaven upon her, that sheshould be damned, that she had been the destruction of all he　

The Castle of Otrantoby Horace WalpolePREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.THE following work was found in the library of an ancient Catholic family in the north of England. It was printed at Naples, in the black letter, in the year 1529. How much sooner it was written does not appear. The principal incidents are such as were believed in the darkest ages of Christianity; but the language and conduct have nothing that savours of barbarism. The style is the purest Italian.If the story was written near the time when it is supposed to have happened, it must have been between 1095, the era of th　

Theodore Roosevelt; An Intimate Biography,by William Roscoe Thayer1919PREFACEIn finishing the correction of the last proofs of this sketch, I perceive that some of those who read it may suppose that I planned to write a deliberate eulogy of Theodore Roosevelt. This is not true. I knew him for forty years, but I never followed his political leadership. Our political differences, however, never lessened our personal friendship. Sometimes long intervals elapsed between our meetings, but when we met it was always with the same intimacy, and when we wrote it was with the same candor. I count it fo　

SHERLOCK HOLMESTHE ADVENTURE OF THE BLANCHED SOLDIERby Sir Arthur Conan DoyleThe ideas of my friend Watson, though limited, are exceedinglypertinacious. For a long time he has worried me to write an experienceof my own. Perhaps I have rather invited this persecution, since Ihave often had occasion to point out to him how superficial are hisown accounts and to accuse him of pandering to popular taste insteadof confining himself rigidly to facts and figures. "Try it yourself,Holmes!" he has retorted, and I am compelled to admit that, having...　

OF THE DELICACY OF TASTE AND PASSIONDavid Hume1741/SOME People are subject to a certain of, which makes them extremely sensible to all theaccidents of life, and gives them a lively joy upon everyprosperous event, as well as a piercing grief, when theymeet with misfortunes and adversity. Favours and good...　

The Hispanic Nations of the New World, A Chronicle of our Southern Neighborsby William R. ShepherdCONTENTSI. THE HERITAGE FROM SPAIN AND PORTUGALII. "OUR OLD KING OR NONE"III. "INDEPENDENCE OR DEATH"IV. PLOUGHING THE SEAV. THE AGE OF THE DICTATORSVI. PERIL FROM ABROADVII. GREATER STATES AND LESSERVIII. "ON THE MARGIN OF INTERNATIONAL LIFE"IX. THE REPUBLICS OF SOUTH AMERICAX. MEXICO IN REVOLUTIONXI. THE REPUBLICS OF THE CARIBBEANXII. PAN-AMERICANISM AND THE GREAT WARBIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTETHE HISPANIC NATIONS OF THE NEW WORLD...　

MY KINSMAN, MAJOR MOLINEUXAfter the kings of Great Britain had assumed the right ofappointing the colonial governors, the measures of the latterseldom met with the ready and generous approbation which had beenpaid to those of their predecessors, under the original charters.The people looked with most jealous scrutiny to the exercise ofpower which did not emanate from themselves, and they usuallyrewarded their rulers with slender gratitude for the compliancesby which, in softening their instructions from beyond the sea,they had incurred the reprehension of those who gave them. The...　

The Beast in the Jungleby Henry JamesCHAPTER IWhat determined the speech that startled him in the course of their encounter scarcely matters, being probably but some words spoken by himself quite without intentionspoken as they lingered and slowly moved together after their renewal of acquaintance. He had been conveyed by friends an hour or two before to the house at which she was staying; the party of visitors at the other house, of whom he was one, and thanks to whom it was his theory, as always, that he was lost in the crowd, had been invited over to luncheon. There had been after lunche　

Sons of the Soilby Honore de BalzacTranslated by Katharine Prescott WormeleyDEDICATIONTo Monsieur P. S. B. Gavault.Jean-Jacques Rousseau wrote these words at the beginning of hisNouvelle Heloise: "I have seen the morals of my time and I publishthese letters." May I not say to you, in imitation of that greatwriter, "I have studied the march of my epoch and I publish thiswork"?The object of this particular studystartling in its truth solong as society makes philanthropy a principle instead ofregarding it as an accidentis to bring to sight the leading...