Voyage of The Paper Canoeby N. H. BishopA GEOGRAPHICAL JOURNEY OF 2500 MILES FROM QUEBEC TO THE GULF OF MEXICO, DURING THE YEARS 1874-5.BY NATHANIEL H. BISHOP,AUTHOR OF "ONE THOUSAND MILES WALK ACROSS SOUTH AMERICA" AND CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE BOSTON SOCIETY OF NATURAL HISTORY AND OF THE NEW YORK ACADEMY OF SCIENCES.BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. NEW YORK: CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM. 1878.TO THE SUPERINTENDENT. ASSISTANTS, AIDS, AND ALL EMPLOYEES OF THE UNITED STATES COAST SURVEY BUREAU, THE "VOYAGE OF THE PAPER CANOE" IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED,AS A SLIGHT EVIDENCE OF THE APPRECIATION 　

CranfordCranford1- Page 2-CranfordCHAPTER I - OUR SOCIETYIN the first place, Cranford is in possession of the Amazons; all theholders of houses above a certain rent are women. If a married couplecome to settle in the town, somehow the gentleman disappears; he iseither fairly frightened to death by being the only man in the Cranford...　

Note to "The Arabian Astrologer"Al Makkari, in his history of the Mahommedan dynasties in Spain,cites from another Arabian writer an account of a talismanic effigysomewhat similar to the one in the foregoing legend.In Cadiz, says he, there formerly stood a square tower upwards ofone hundred cubits high, built of huge blocks of stone, fastenedtogether with clamps of brass. On the top was the figure of a man,holding a staff in his right hand, his face turned to the Atlantic,and pointing with the forefinger of his left hand to the Straits of...　

　The solitary figure in the saffron robes shielded his eyes from the glare and squinted down the glacier to where the enormous black vessel lay, one-third submerged, in the floor of the valley. Allowing for the portion lost below the icy surface of the frozen lake it was easily some three hundred cubits long, at least fifty wide and another thirty high. It had, overall, the appearance of some fantastic barge with a kind of gabled house mounted upon its deck. Its gopher wood timbers were blackened by a heavy coating of pitch and hardened by the petrification of the glacier which had kept it vi　

　　　　LUCY LOOKS INTO A WARDROBE　　　　ONCE there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. This story is about something that happened to them when they were sent away from London during the war because of the air-raids. They were sent to the house of an old Professor who lived in the heart of the country, ten miles from the nearest railway station and two miles from the nearest post office. He had no wife and he lived in a very large house with a housekeeper called Mrs Macready and three servants. (Their names were Ivy, Margaret and Betty, but they do not e into the stor　

Footnotes:(1) A kind of firework made with damp powder.(2) "NOTE BY MR. MACKELLAR. Should not this be Alan BRECK Stewart,afterwards notorious as the Appin murderer? The Chevalier issometimes very weak on names.(3) NOTE BY MR. MACKELLAR. This Teach of the SARAH must not beconfused with the celebrated Blackbeard. The dates and facts by nomeans tally. It is possible the second Teach may have at onceborrowed the name and imitated the more excessive part of hismanners from the first. Even the Master of Ballantrae could makeadmirers....　

1781THE CRITIQUE OF PURE REASONby Immanuel Kanttranslated by J. M. D. MeiklejohnPREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION, 1781Human reason, in one sphere of its cognition, is called upon toconsider questions, which it cannot decline, as they are presentedby its own nature, but which it cannot answer, as they transcend everyfaculty of the mind.It falls into this difficulty without any fault of its own. Itbegins with principles, which cannot be dispensed with in the field of...　

BeowulfAnonymousTranlated by GummereBEOWULFPRELUDE OF THE FOUNDER OF THE DANISH HOUSELO, praise of the prowess of people-kingsof spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,awing the earls. Since erst he layfriendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,till before him the folk, both far and near,who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,gave him gifts: a good king he!...　

Autobiography and Selected Essaysby Thomas Henry HuxleyEdited, with introduction and notes by Ada L. F. SnellAssociate Professor Of EnglishMount Holyoke CollegeCONTENTSPREFACEINTRODUCTIONThe Life of HuxleySubject-matter, Structure, and Style of EssaysSuggested StudiesAUTOBIOGRAPHYON IMPROVING NATURAL KNOWLEDGEA LIBERAL EDUCATIONON A PIECE OF CHALKTHE PRINCIPAL SUBJECTS OF EDUCATIONTHE METHOD OF SCIENTIFIC INVESTIGATIONON THE PHYSICAL BASIS OF LIFE...　

The White Mr. Longfellowby William Dean HowellsWe had expected to stay in Boston only until we could find a house in OldCambridge. This was not so simple a matter as it might seem; for theancient town had not yet quickened its scholarly pace to the modern step.Indeed, in the spring of 1866 the impulse of expansion was not yetvisibly felt anywhere; the enormous material growth that followed thecivil war had not yet begun. In Cambridge the houses to be let were few,and such as there were fell either below our pride or rose above ourpurse. I wish I might tell how at last we bought a house; we　

White Liesby Charles ReadeCHAPTER I.Towards the close of the last century the Baron de Beaurepaire lived in the chateau of that name in Brittany. His family was of prodigious antiquity; seven successive barons had already flourished on this spot when a younger son of the house accompanied his neighbor the Duke of Normandy in his descent on England, and was rewarded by a grant of English land, on which he dug a mote and built a chateau, and called it Beaurepaire (the worthy Saxons turned this into Borreper without delay). Since that day more than twenty gentlemen of the same lineage had held　

　IT BEGINS IN DARKNESS　　Effigies of the Earth King festooned the city around Castle Sylvarresta. Everywhere the effigies could be seenhanging beneath shopwindows, standing upright against the walls of the city gates, or nailed beside doorwaysstationed any place where the Earth King might find ingress into a home.　Many of the figures were crude things crafted by childrena few reeds twisted into the form of a man, often with a crown of oak leaves in its hair. But outside the doors of shops and taverns were more ornate figures of wood, the full size of a man, often elaborately painted and coifed　

　This novel is dedicated to Stan, Christopher, Michele and Howard; to Rosario and Patrice; to Pamela and Elaine; and to Niccolo.　This novel is dedicated by Vittorio to the people of Florence, Italy.　　　1　WHO I AM, WHY I WRITE, WHAT IS TO E　　WHEN I was a small boy I had a terrible dream. I dreamt I held in my arms the severed heads of my younger brother I and sister. They were quick still, and mute, with big fluttering eyes, and reddened cheeks, and so horrified was I that I could make no more of a sound than they could. The dream came true.　But no one will weep for me or for them. They have be　

　　1　　 mander James D. Swanson of the U.S. Navy was short, plump and crowding forty. He had jet-black hair topping a pink, cherubic face, and with the deep permanent creases of laughter lines radiating from his eyes and curving around his mouth, he was a dead ringer for the cheerful, happy-golucky extrovert who is the life and soul of the party where the guests park their brains along with their hats and coats. That, anyway, was how he struck me at first glance, but on the reasonable assumption that I might very likely find some other qualities in the man picked to mand the latest and most pow　

　　　In what felt to him like the first cold morning of the world, he groped for fire.　　　It was a high place where he searched, a lifeless, wind-scoured place, a rough, forbidding shelf of black and splintered rock. Snow, driven by squalls of frigid air, streamed across the black rock in white powder, making shifting veils of white over layers of gray ancient ice that was almost as hard as the rock itself. Dawn was in the sky, but still hundreds of kilometers away, as distant as the tiny sawteeth of the horizon to the northwest. The snowfields and icefields along that far edge of the world were　

　Norman gave his ivory-handled screwdriver a final twist and secured the last screw into the side panel of the slim brass cylinder. Unclamping it from his vice, he lifted it lovingly by its shining axle, and held it towards the dust-smeared glass of the kitchenette window. It was a work of wonder and that was for certain. A mere ten inches in diameter and another one in thickness, the dim light painted a rainbow corona about its varnished circumference.　Norman carried it carefully across to his cluttered kitchen table and, elbowing aside a confusion of soiled crockery, placed it upon the twin