MADAM HOW AND LADY WHYMADAM HOW ANDLADY WHYBy Charles Kingsley1- Page 2-MADAM HOW AND LADY WHYCHAPTER I—THE GLENYou find it dull walking up here upon Hartford Bridge Flat this sadNovember day? Well, I do not deny that the moor looks somewhatdreary, though dull it need never be. Though the fog is clinging to the...　

Mark Twain, A Biography, 1866-1875By Albert Bigelow PaineVOLUME I, Part 2: 1866-1875LIVTHE LECTURERIt was not easy to take up the daily struggle again, but it wasnecessary. [Clemens once declared he had been so blue at this periodthat one morning he put a loaded pistol to his head, but found he lackedcourage to pull the trigger.] Out of the ruck of possibilities (hisbrain always thronged with plans) he constructed three or four resolves.The chief of these was the trip around the world; but that lay monthsahead, and in the mean time ways and means must be provided. Another...　

Vailima Lettersby Robert Louis StevensonCHAPTER IIN THE MOUNTAIN, APIA, SAMOA,MONDAY, NOVEMBER 2ND, 1890MY DEAR COLVIN, - This is a hard and interesting andbeautiful life that we lead now. Our place is in a deepcleft of Vaea Mountain, some six hundred feet above the sea,embowered in forest, which is our strangling enemy, and whichwe combat with axes and dollars. I went crazy over outdoorwork, and had at last to confine myself to the house, orliterature must have gone by the board. NOTHING is sointeresting as weeding, clearing, and path-making; the...　

The Metal Monsterby A. MerrittPROLOGUEBefore the narrative which follows was placed in my hands, I had never seen Dr. Walter T. Goodwin, its author.When the manuscript revealing his adventures among the pre-historic ruins of the Nan-Matal in the Carolines (The Moon Pool) had been given me by the International Association of Science for editing and revision to meet the requirements of a popular presentation, Dr. Goodwin had left America. He had explained that he was still too shaken, too depressed, to be able to recall experiences that must inevitably carry with them freshened memories of thos　

　　　　　　1.　　　　Fingers of lightning tore holes in the black skies as an angry cloudburst drenched the surrealistic landscape. It was 3 A.M. on a cold, wet morning in late November 1967. and the little houses scattered along the dirt road winding through the hills of West Virginia were all dark. Some seemed unoccupied and in the final stages of decay. Others were unpainted, neglected, forlorn. The whole setting was like the opening scene of a Grade B horror film from the 1930s.　　　　Along the road there came a stranger in a land where strangers were rare and suspect. He walked up to the door of a c　

AGNES GREYAGNES GREYBy Anne Bronte1- Page 2-AGNES GREYCHAPTER I - THE PARSONAGEALL true histories contain instruction; though, in some, the treasuremay be hard to find, and when found, so trivial in quantity, that the dry,shrivelled kernel scarcely compensates for the trouble of cracking the nut.Whether this be the case with my history or not, I am hardly competent tojudge. I sometimes think it might prove useful to some, and entertaining...　

Hans Brinker or The Silver Skatesby Mary Mapes DodgeTo my father James J. Mapes this book is dedicated in gratitude and lovePrefaceThis little work aims to combine the instructive features of a book of travels with the interest of a domestic tale. Throughout its pages the descriptions of Dutch localities, customs, and general characteristics have been given with scrupulous care. Many of its incidents are drawn from life, and the story of Raff Brinker is founded strictly upon fact.While acknowledging my obligations to many well-known writers on Dutch history, literature, and art, I turn wi　

Miss Billie Marriedby Eleanor H. PorterTOMy Cousin MaudCONTENTSCHAPTERI. SOME OPINIONS AND A WEDDINGII. FOR WILLIAMA HOMEIII. BILLY SPEAKS HER MINDIV. JUST LIKE BILLYV. TIGER SKINSVI. ``THE PAINTING LOOK'VII. THE BIG BAD QUARRELVIII. BILLY CULTIVATES A COMFORTABLE INDIFFERENCE'IX. THE DINNER BILLY TRIED TO GETX. THE DINNER BILLY GOTXI. CALDERWELL DOES SOME QUESTIONINGXII. FOR BILLYSOME ADVICEXIII. PETE...　

Tarzan and the Jewels of OparTarzan and the Jewels ofOparby Edgar Rice Burroughs1- Page 2-Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar1Belgian and ArabLieutenant Albert Werper had only the prestige of the name he haddishonored to thank for his narrow escape from being cashiered. At first...　

　"The Captive"　Chapter One　She sat by the creek, half-hidden in lush grasses. Carefully she twined purple summer flowers into her single dark brown braid, and dabbled bare feet in the rushing water. Stems and crushed blooms littered the coarse yellow gown she wore and damp earth stained the garment, but she paid it no mind. She was purpose-fully intent on her work, for if she allowed her thoughts to range freely she would be overtaken by the knowledge and the hope that he still might e.　A songbird called from the forest behind and she glanced up, smiling at the delicate melody. Then her atten　

Mark Twain, A Biography, 1900-1907By Albert Bigelow PaineVOLUME III, Part 1: 1900-1907CCXIITHE RETURN OF THE CONQUERORIt would be hard to exaggerate the stir which the newspapers and thepublic generally made over the homecoming of Mark Twain. He had leftAmerica, staggering under heavy obligation and set out on a pilgrimage ofredemption. At the moment when this Mecca, was in view a great sorrowhad befallen him and, stirred a world-wide and soul-deep tide of humansympathy. Then there had followed such ovation as has seldom beenconferred upon a private citizen, and now approaching old age, st　

　To　my gentle Reader　William Plomer　　PART ONE: HAPPENSTANCE　　CHAPTER ONE　　REFLECTIONS IN A DOUBLE BOURBON　　JAMES BOND, with two double bourbons inside him, sat in the final departure lounge of Miami Airport and thought about life and death.　It was part of his profession to kill people. He had never liked doing it and when he had to kill he did it as well as he knew how and forgot about it. As a secret agent who held the rare double-O prefix - the licence to kill in the Secret Service - it was his duty to be as cool about death as a surgeon. If it happened, it happened. Regret was unprofession　

　A January gale was roaring up the Channel, blustering loudly, and bearing in its bosom rain squalls whose big drops rattled loudly on the tarpaulin clothing of those among the officers and men whose duties kept them on deck. So hard and so long had the gale blown that even in the sheltered waters of Spithead the battleship moved uneasily at her anchors, pitching a little in the choppy seas, and snubbing herself against the tautened cables with unexpected jerks. A shore boat was on its way out to her, propelled by oars in the hands of two sturdy women; it danced madly on the steep little wave　

　Up at the unpeopled borderland of cloudy heaven, where unending wind drove eternal snow between and over high gray rocks, the gods and goddesses were gathering.　In the grayness just before dawn, their tall forms came like smoke out of the gray and smoking wind, to take on solidity and detail. Unperturbed by wind or weather, their garments flapping in the shrieking howl of air, they stood upon the rooftop of the world and waited as their numbers grew. Steadily more powers streaked across the sky, bringing reinforcement.　The shortest of the standing figures was taller than humanity, but from t　

The Vanished Messengerby E. Phillips OppenheimCHAPTER IThere were very few people upon Platform Number Twenty-one ofLiverpool Street Station at a quarter to nine on the eveningof April 2 - possibly because the platform in question is one ofthe most remote and least used in the great terminus. Thestation-master, however, was there himself, with an inspector inattendance. A dark, thick-set man, wearing a long travellingulster and a Homburg hat, and carrying in his hand a brown leatherdressing-case, across which was painted in black letters the nameMR. JOHN P. DUNSTER, was standing a few yard　

　Kona Weather　　MISS MINERVA WINTERSLIP was a Bostonian in good standing, and long past the romantic age. Yet beauty thrilled her still, even the semi-barbaric beauty of a Pacific island. As she walked slowly along the beach she felt the little catch in her throat that sometimes she had known in Symphony Hall, Boston, when her favorite orchestra rose to some new and unexpected height of loveliness.　It was the hour at which she liked Waikiki best, the hour just preceding dinner and the quick tropic darkness. The shadows cast by the tall cocoanut palms lengthened and deepened, the light of the f