Menexenusby PlatoTranslated by Benjamin JowettAPPENDIX I.It seems impossible to separate by any exact line the genuine writings ofPlato from the spurious. The only external evidence to them which is ofmuch value is that of Aristotle; for the Alexandrian catalogues of acentury later include manifest forgeries. Even the value of theAristotelian authority is a good deal impaired by the uncertaintyconcerning the date and authorship of the writings which are ascribed tohim. And several of the citations of Aristotle omit the name of Plato, and...　

　　　　 Red Nails　　 Jewels of Gwahlur　　 Beyond the Black River　　　　RED NAILS　　　　　　For some two years, as captain of the Wastrel, Conan continues a highly successful career as a freebooter. However, the other Zingaran pirates, jealous of the outlander in their midst, at last bring him down off the coast of Shem. Escaping inland and hearing that wars are in the offing along the borders of Stygia, Conan joins the Free panions, a band of condottieri under the mand of one Zarallo. Instead of rich plunder, however, he finds himself engaged in uneventful guard duty in the border post of Sukhmet, on the 　

　On a ridge above Texas Flat upon a rock shaped like flame, a hand moved upon the lava. The hand moved and then was still. In all that vast beige-gray silence there was no other movement and no sound.　A buzzard swinging in lazy circles above the serrated ridge had glimpsed that moving hand. Swinging lower, he saw a man who lay among the rocks atop the ridge. He was a long-bodied man in worn boots and jeans, a man with wide shoulders and a lean tough face.　It was the face of a hunter but now of a man hunted. A man who lay with his rifle beside him and who wore a belted gun; but the man still l　

Personal Memoirs of P.H.Sheridan V1 of 2by Philip Henry SheridanPREFACEWhen, yielding to the solicitations of my friends, I finally decidedto write these Memoirs, the greatest difficulty which confronted mewas that of recounting my share in the many notable events of thelast three decades, in which I played a part, without entering toofully into the history of these years, and at the same time withoutgiving to my own acts an unmerited prominence. To what extent I haveovercome this difficulty I must leave the reader to judge....　

PRINCE RING [30][30] From the Icelandic.Once upon a time there was a King and his Queen in their kingdom.They had one daughter, who was called Ingiborg, and one son,whose name was Ring. He was less fond of adventures than men ofrank usually were in those days, and was not famous for strengthor feats of arms. When he was twelve years old, one fine winterday he rode into the forest along with his men to enjoy himself.They went on a long way, until they caught sight of a hind with agold ring on its horns. The Prince was eager to catch it, if...　

THE CONEThe night was hot and overcast, the sky red, rimmed with thelingering sunset of mid-summer. They sat at the open window,trying to fancy the air was fresher there. The trees and shrubs ofthe garden stood stiff and dark; beyond in the roadway a gas-lamp burnt, bright orange against the hazy blue of the evening.Farther were the three lights of the railway signal against thelowering sky. The man and woman spoke to one another in low tones."He does not suspect?" said the man, a little nervously."Not he," she said peevishly, as though that too irritated...　

Inhabitants of the Alhambra.I HAVE often observed that the more proudly a mansion has beentenanted in the day of its prosperity, the humbler are its inhabitantsin the day of its decline, and that the palace of a king commonly endsin being the nestling-place of the beggar.The Alhambra is in a rapid state of similar transition. Whenever atower falls to decay, it is seized upon by some tatterdemalion family,who become joint-tenants, with the bats and owls, of its gilded halls,and hang their rags, those standards of poverty, out of its windows...　

THAISTHAISby ANATOLE FRANCETranslated By Robert B. Douglas1- Page 2-THAISPART THE FIRSTTHE LOTUSIn those days there were many hermits living in the desert. On bothbanks of the Nile numerous huts, built by these solitary dwellers, ofbranches held together by clay, were scattered at a little distance from each...　

THE COMPARISON OF ALCIBIADES WITH CORIOLANUSby Plutarchtranslated by John DrydenHAVING described all their actions that seem to deservecommemoration, their military ones, we may say, incline the balancevery decidedly upon neither side. They both, in pretty equalmeasure, displayed on numerous occasions the daring and courage of thesoldier, and the skill and foresight of the general; unless, indeed,the fact that Alcibiades was victorious and successful in manycontests both by sea and land, ought to gain him the title of a more...　

The Water-Babiesby Charles KingsleyCHAPTER I"I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined; In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind."To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think, What man has made of man."WORDSWORTH.Once upon a time there was a little chimney-sweep, and his name was Tom. That is a short name, and you have heard it before, so you will not have much trouble in remembering it. He lived in a great town in the North country, where there were plenty of chimneys to 　

Aaron Trowby Anthony TrollopeI would wish to declare, at the beginning of this story, that Ishall never regard that cluster of islets which we call Bermuda asthe Fortunate Islands of the ancients. Do not let professionalgeographers take me up, and say that no one has so accounted them,and that the ancients have never been supposed to have gottenthemselves so far westwards. What I mean to assert is thisthat,had any ancient been carried thither by enterprise or stress ofweather, he would not have given those islands so good a name. Thatthe Neapolitan sailors of King Alonzo should have been w　

In the Carquinez Woodsby Bret HarteCHAPTER I.The sun was going down on the Carquinez Woods. The few shafts ofsunlight that had pierced their pillared gloom were lost inunfathomable depths, or splintered their ineffectual lances onthe enormous trunks of the redwoods. For a time the dull red oftheir vast columns, and the dull red of their cast-off bark whichmatted the echoless aisles, still seemed to hold a faint glow ofthe dying day. But even this soon passed. Light and color fledupwards. The dark interlaced treetops, that had all day made animpenetrable shade, broke into fire here and th　

"Rikki-Tikki-Tavi"At the hole where he went inRed-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin.Hear what little Red-Eye saith:"Nag, come up and dance with death!"Eye to eye and head to head,(Keep the measure, Nag.)This shall end when one is dead;(At thy pleasure, Nag.)Turn for turn and twist for twist(Run and hide thee, Nag.)Hah! The hooded Death has missed!...　

The VillageAfter hoeing, or perhaps reading and writing, in the forenoon, Iusually bathed again in the pond, swimming across one of its covesfor a stint, and washed the dust of labor from my person, orsmoothed out the last wrinkle which study had made, and for theafternoon was absolutely free. Every day or two I strolled to thevillage to hear some of the gossip which is incessantly going onthere, circulating either from mouth to mouth, or from newspaper tonewspaper, and which, taken in homoeopathic doses, was really as...　

Hieroby XenophonTranslation by H. G. DakynsXenophon the Athenian was born 431 B.C. He was apupil of Socrates. He marched with the Spartans,and was exiled from Athens. Sparta gave him landand property in Scillus, where he lived for manyyears before having to move once more, to settlein Corinth. He died in 354 B.C.The Hiero is an imaginary dialogue, c. 474 B.C.,between Simonides of Ceos, the poet; and Hieron,of Syracuse and Gela, the despot....　

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