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...　

Caesar and Cleopatraby George Bernard ShawACT IAn October night on the Syrian border of Egypt towards the end ofthe XXXIII Dynasty, in the year 706 by Roman computation,afterwards reckoned by Christian computation as 48 B.C. A greatradiance of silver fire, the dawn of a moonlit night, is risingin the east. The stars and the cloudless sky are our owncontemporaries, nineteen and a half centuries younger than weknow them; but you would not guess that from their appearance.Below them are two notable drawbacks of civilization: a palace,and soldiers. The palace, an old, low, Syrian building of...　

CAUTIONThe material you have purchased is protected by United States andInternational Copyright Conventions. You are authorized todownload one personal copy of this eBook and you may maintainone personal backup copy of the eBook, so long as such backup isnot used while the primary copy exists. Please read Terms of Usecarefully.Terms of UseINTELLECTUAL PROPERTY; LIMITED LICENSE TO USERSThe product you have purchased is protected by United States and Internationalcopyright, trademark, and/or other intellectual property laws, and any unauthorized useof this product may violate such laws and the 　

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENTHE BELL-DEEPby Hans Christian Andersen"DING-DONG! ding-dong!" It sounds up from the "bell-deep" in theOdense-Au. Every child in the old town of Odense, on the island ofFunen, knows the Au, which washes the gardens round about the town,and flows on under the wooden bridges from the dam to thewater-mill. In the Au grow the yellow water-lilies and brownfeathery reeds; the dark velvety flag grows there, high and thick; oldand decayed willows, slanting and tottering, hang far out over the...　

To-morrowby Joseph ConradWhat was known of Captain Hagberd in the littleseaport of Colebrook was not exactly in his favour.He did not belong to the place. He had come tosettle there under circumstances not at all myste-rioushe used to be very communicative aboutthem at the timebut extremely morbid and un-reasonable. He was possessed of some little moneyevidently, because he bought a plot of ground, andhad a pair of ugly yellow brick cottages run upvery cheaply. He occupied one of them himself...　

Sartor Resartusby Thomas CarlyleSARTOR RESARTUS: The Life and Opinions of Herr Teufelsdrockh By Thomas Carlyle. [1831]BOOK I.CHAPTER I. PRELIMINARY.Considering our present advanced state of culture, and how the Torch of Science has now been brandished and borne about, with more or less effect, for five thousand years and upwards; how, in these times especially, not only the Torch still burns, and perhaps more fiercely than ever, but innumerable Rushlights, and Sulphur-matches, kindled thereat, are also glancing in every direction, so that not the smallest cranny or dog-hole in Nature or Art 　

EvangelineA Tale of Acadieby Henry Wadsworth LongfellowTHIS is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring oceanSpeaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath itLeaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman?...　

Gobseckby Honore de BalzacTranslated by Ellen MarriageDEDICATIONTo M. le Baron Barchou de Penhoen.Among all the pupils of the Oratorian school at Vendome, we are, Ithink, the only two who have afterwards met in mid-career of alife of letterswe who once were cultivating Philosophy when byrights we should have been minding our De viris. When we met, youwere engaged upon your noble works on German philosophy, and Iupon this study. So neither of us has missed his vocation; andyou, when you see your name here, will feel, no doubt, as much...　

THE HAZEL-NUT CHILD [29][29] From the Bukowniaer. Van Wliolocki.There was once upon a time a couple who had no children, and theyprayed Heaven every day to send them a child, though it were nobigger than a hazel-nut. At last Heaven heard their prayer andsent them a child exactly the size of a hazel-nut, and it nevergrew an inch. The parents were very devoted to the littlecreature, and nursed and tended it carefully. Their tiny son toowas as clever as he could be, and so sharp and sensible that allthe neighbours marvelled over the wise things he said and did....　

The Dustby David Graham PhillipsThe Grain of DustA NOVELBYDAVID GRAHAM PHILLIPSTHE GRAIN OF DUSTIINTO the offices of Lockyer, Sanders, Benchley, Lockyer & Norman, corporation lawyers, there drifted on a December afternoon a girl in search of work at stenography and typewriting. The firm was about the most important and most famousradical orators often said infamousin New York. The girl seemed, at a glance, about as unimportant and obscure an atom as the city hid in its vast ferment. She was blondetawny hair, fair skin, blue eyes. Aside from this hardly conclusive mark of identity there wa　

The Works of Edgar Allan PoeVolume 5 of the Raven EditionIN FIVE VOLUMESContentsPhilosophy of FurnitureA Tale of JerusalemThe SphinxHop FrogThe Man of the CrowdNever Bet the Devill Your HeadThou Art the ManWhy the Little Frenchman Wears his Hand in a SlingBon-BonSome words with a MummyThe Poetic PrincipleOld English PoetryPOEMSDedicationPrefacePoems of Later LifeThe RavenThe BellsUlalumeTo HelenAnnabel LeeA ValentineAn EnigmaTo my MotherFor AnnieTo FTo Frances S. OsgoodEldoradoEulalieA Dream within a Dream...　

Zanoniby Edward Bulwer LyttonDEDICATORY EPISTLEFirst prefixed to the Edition of 1845TOJOHN GIBSON, R.A., SCULPTOR.In looking round the wide and luminous circle of our great livingEnglishmen, to select one to whom I might fitly dedicate thiswork,one who, in his life as in his genius, might illustratethe principle I have sought to convey; elevated by the idealwhich he exalts, and serenely dwelling in a glorious existencewith the images born of his imagination,in looking round forsome such man, my thoughts rested upon you. Afar from our...　

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...　

ON SLEEP AND SLEEPLESSNESSby Aristotletranslated by J. I. Beare1WITH regard to sleep and waking, we must consider what they are:whether they are peculiar to soul or to body, or common to both; andif common, to what part of soul or body they appertain: further,from what cause it arises that they are attributes of animals, andwhether all animals share in them both, or some partake of the one...　

HIGH-WATER MARKWhen the tide was out on the Dedlow Marsh, its extended drearinesswas patent. Its spongy, low-lying surface, sluggish, inky pools,and tortuous sloughs, twisting their slimy way, eel-like, towardthe open bay, were all hard facts. So were the few green tussocks,with their scant blades, their amphibious flavor and unpleasantdampness. And if you choose to indulge your fancyalthough theflat monotony of the Dedlow Marsh was not inspiringthe wavy lineof scattered drift gave an unpleasant consciousness of the spentwaters, and made the dead certainty of the returning tide a gloomy...　

A Woman of Thirtyby Honore de BalzacTranslated by Ellen MarriageDEDICATIONTo Louis Boulanger, Painter.A WOMAN OF THIRTYI.EARLY MISTAKESIt was a Sunday morning in the beginning of April 1813, a morning which gave promise of one of those bright days when Parisians, for the first time in the year, behold dry pavements underfoot and a cloudless sky overhead. It was not yet noon when a luxurious cabriolet, drawn by two spirited horses, turned out of the Rue de Castiglione into the Rue de Rivoli, and drew up behind a row of carriages standing before the newly opened barrier half-way down the Terras