ODESSA, RUSSIA, 1918　　THE DENSE FOG rolled into the harbor late in the afternoon, nudged by a sudden change in wind direction. The damp gray billows washed over the stone quays, swirled up the Odessa Steps and brought an early nightfall to the busy Black Sea port. Passenger ferries and freighters canceled their runs, idling dozens of sailors. As Captain Anatoly Tovrov groped his way through the bone-chilling mists that enveloped the waterfront, he could hear bursts of drunken laughter from the crowded dives and brothels. He walked past the main concentration of bars, turned down an alley an　

　　THE GUILLOTINE; brutal instantaneous bloody death, a hellish instrument of execution. It dominated the white-tiled room, a. metallic structure that gleamed evilly in the stark fluorescent light.　　　　Louis Nevillon was calm as his guards allowed him a few seconds to savour his fate. They were gloating, he could read it in their smug, supposedly impassive, expressions. Even the priest. Tete-de-chien! The executioner was masked, a custom that went back centuries, but there was a gleam in the pale blue eyes that stared out of the cloth slits that was unmistakable. It was Gallon, of course. Who e　

Memoir of Fleeming Jenkinby Robert Louis StevensonPREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION.ON the death of Fleeming Jenkin, his family and friends determinedto publish a selection of his various papers; by way ofintroduction, the following pages were drawn up; and the whole,forming two considerable volumes, has been issued in England. Inthe States, it has not been thought advisable to reproduce thewhole; and the memoir appearing alone, shorn of that other matterwhich was at once its occasion and its justification, so large an...　

THE UNDERGROUND WORKERSOn a bitter night somewhere between Christmas and the New Year, aman set out to walk to the neighbouring village. It was not manymiles off, but the snow was so thick that there were no roads, orwalls, or hedges left to guide him, and very soon he lost his wayaltogether, and was glad to get shelter from the wind behind athick juniper tree. Here he resolved to spend the night,thinking that when the sun rose he would be able to see his pathagain.So he tucked his legs snugly under him like a hedgehog, rolledhimself up in his sheepskin, and went to sleep. How long he...　

The Nature Fakerby Richard Harding DavisRichard Herrick was a young man with a gentle disposition, muchmoney, and no sense of humor. His object in life was to marry MissCatherweight. For three years she had tried to persuade him thiscould not be, and finally, in order to convince him, married someone else. When the woman he loves marries another man, the rejectedone is popularly supposed to take to drink or to foreign travel.Statistics show that, instead, he instantly falls in love with thebest friend of the girl who refused him. But, as Herrick trulyloved Miss Catherweight, he could not wors　

Part 6It may be proper to ask here how long it may be supposed menmight have the seeds of the contagion in them before it discovereditself in this fatal manner, and how long they might go aboutseemingly whole, and yet be contagious to all those that came nearthem. I believe the most experienced physicians cannot answer thisquestion directly any more than I can; and something an ordinaryobserver may take notice of, which may pass their observations. Theopinion of physicians abroad seems to be that it may lie dormant inthe spirits or in the blood-vessels a very considerable time. Why else...　

Political Economyby J.C.L. Simonde de Sismondi1815Chapter 1Objects and Origins of the SciencePolitical economy is the name given to an important division of the science of government. The object of government is, or ought to be, the happiness of men, united in society; it seeks the means of securing to them the highest degree of felicity compatible with their nature, and at the same time of allowing the greatest possible number of individuals to partake in that felicity. But man is a complex bring; he experiences moral and physical wants; therefore his happiness consists in his moral and phys　

The Coming RaceThe Coming Raceby Edward Bulwer, Lord Lytton1- Page 2-The Coming RaceCHAPTER I.I am a native of _____, in the United States of America. Myancestors migrated from England in the reign of Charles II.; and mygrandfather was not undistinguished in the War of Independence. Myfamily, therefore, enjoyed a somewhat high social position in right of birth;...　

MY ANTONIAby Willa Sibert CatherTO CARRIE AND IRENE MINERIn memory of affections old and trueOptima dies ... prima fugitVIRGILINTRODUCTIONLAST summer I happened to be crossing the plains of Iowa in a seasonof intense heat, and it was my good fortune to have for a travelingcompanion James Quayle BurdenJim Burden, as we still call himin the West. He and I are old friendswe grew up togetherin the same Nebraska townand we had much to say to each other.While the train flashed through never-ending miles of ripe wheat,...　

The Pension Beaurepasby Henry JamesCHAPTER I.I was not richon the contrary; and I had been told the PensionBeaurepas was cheap. I had, moreover, been told that a boarding-house is a capital place for the study of human nature. I had afancy for a literary career, and a friend of mine had said to me, "Ifyou mean to write you ought to go and live in a boarding-house; thereis no other such place to pick up material." I had read something ofthis kind in a letter addressed by Stendhal to his sister: "I have apassionate desire to know human nature, and have a great mind to live...　

The Augsburg ConfessionThe Confession of Faith:Which Was Submitted to His Imperial Majesty Charles VAt the Diet of Augsburg in the Year 1530by Philip Melanchthon, 1497-1560Preface to the Emperor Charles V.Most Invincible Emperor, Caesar Augustus, Most Clement Lord:Inasmuch as Your Imperial Majesty has summoned a Diet of theEmpire here at Augsburg to deliberate concerning measures againstthe Turk, that most atrocious, hereditary, and ancient enemy ofthe Christian name and religion, in what way, namely, effectuallyto withstand his furor and assaults by strong and lasting...　

Up From Slavery: An Autobiographyby Booker T. WashingtonUp From Slavery: An Autobiography by Booker T. WashingtonThis volume is dedicated to my Wife Margaret James Washington And to my Brother John H. Washington Whose patience, fidelity, and hard work have gone far to make the work at Tuskegee successful.PrefaceThis volume is the outgrowth of a series of articles, dealing with incidents in my life, which were published consecutively in the Outlook. While they were appearing in that magazine I was constantly surprised at the number of requests which came to me from all parts of the country, as　

　　　　The spring rains had softened the ground, so Dunk had no trouble digging the grave. He chose a spot on the western slope of a low hill, for the old man had always loved to watch the sunset. "Another day done," he would sigh, "and who knows what the morrow will bring us, eh, Dunk?"　Well, one morrow had brought rains that soaked them to the bones, and the one after had brought wet gusty winds, and the next a chill. By the fourth day the old man was too weak to ride. And now he was gone. Only a few days past, he had been singing as they rode, the old song about going to Gulltown to see a fai　

　This is what happened. On the night that the worst heat wave in northern New England history finally broke-the night of July 19-the entire western Maine region was lashed with the most vicious thunderstorms I have ever seen.　We lived on Long Lake, and we saw the first of the storms beating its way across the water toward us just before dark. For an hour before, the air had been utterly still. The American flag that my father put up on our boathouse in 1936 lay limp against its pole. Not even its hem fluttered. The heat was like a solid thing, and it seemed as deep as sullen quarry-water. Tha　

The Inca of Perusalemby George Bernard ShawAN ALMOST HISTORICAL COMEDIETTAI must remind the reader that this playlet was written when itsprincipal character, far from being a fallen foe and virtually aprisoner in our victorious hands, was still the Caesar whoselegions we were resisting with our hearts in our mouths. Manywere so horribly afraid of him that they could not forgive me fornot being afraid of him: I seemed to be trifling heartlessly witha deadly peril. I knew better; and I have represented Caesar asknowing better himself. But it was one of the quaintnesses of...　

Autobiography of a Pocket-Handkerchiefby James Fenimore CoopoerCHAPTER I.Certain moral philosophers, with a due disdain of the flimsy foundationsof human pride, have shown that every man is equally descended from amillion of ancestors, within a given number of generations; therebydemonstrating that no prince exists who does not participate in theblood of some beggar, or any beggar who does not share in the bloodof princes. Although favored by a strictly vegetable descent myself, thelaws of nature have not permitted me to escape from the influence ofthis common rule. The earliest accounts I po