Little Peggy was very careful with the eggs. She rooted her hand through the straw till her fingers bumped something hard and heavy. She gave no never mind to the chicken drips. After all, when folk with babies stayed at the roadhouse, Mama never even crinkled her face at their most spetackler diapers. Even when the chicken drips were wet and stringy and made her fingers stick together, little Peggy gave no never mind. She just pushed the straw apart, wrapped her hand around the egg, and lifted it out of the brood box. All this while standing tiptoe on a wobbly stool, reaching high above her head. Mama said she was too young for egging, but little Peggy showed her. Every day she felt in　

　　　　　　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 crumbling farmhouse and hammered. After a long moment a light blinked on somewhere in the house and a　

360 BCPHAEDOby Platotranslated by Benjamin JowettPERSONS OF THE DIALOGUEPHAEDO, who is the narrator of the dialogue to ECHECRATES of PhliusSOCRATESAPOLLODORUSSIMMIASCEBESCRITOATTENDANT OF THE PRISONPHAEDOSCENE: The Prison of SocratesPLACE OF THE NARRATION: PhliusEchecrates. Were you yourself, Phaedo, in the prison with Socrateson the day when he drank the poison?Phaedo. Yes, Echecrates, I was.Ech. I wish that you would tell me about his death. What did he...　

A Forgotten Empire: Vijayanagar; A Contribution to the History of Indiaby Robert SewellPrefaceThe two Portuguese chronicles, a translation of which into English is now for the first time offered to the public, are contained in a vellum-bound folio volume in the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris, amongst the manuscripts of which institution it bears the designation "PORT. NO. 65." The volume in question consists of copies of four original documents; the first two, written by Fernao Nuniz and Domingo Paes, being those translated below, the last two (at the end of the MS.) letters written from China about the year 1520 A.D. These will probably be published in translation by Mr. Donald Ferguson i　

Roughing Itby Mark TwainTOCALVIN H. HIGBIE,Of California,an Honest Man, a Genial Comrade, and a Steadfast Friend.THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBEDBy the Author,In Memory of the Curious TimeWhen We TwoWERE MILLIONAIRES FOR TEN DAYS.ROUGHING ITBYMARK TWAIN.(SAMUEL L. CLEMENS.)PREFATORY....　

Adventure XThe Naval TreatyThe July which immediately succeeded my marriage wasmade memorable by three cases of interest, in which Ihad the privilege of being associated with SherlockHolmes and of studying his methods. I find themrecorded in my notes under the headings of "TheAdventure of the Second Stain," "The Adventure of theNaval Treaty," and "The Adventure of the TiredCaptain." The first of these, however, deals withinterest of such importance and implicates so many ofthe first families in the kingdom that for many yearsit will be impossible to make it public. No case,however, in which Holmes was engaged has ever...　

　　IWORMALLY there are only two types of marine machines concerned with the discovery and recovery of oil from under the ocean floor. The first, mainly engaged in the discovery of oil, is a self-propelled vessel, sometimes of very considerable size. Apart from its towering drilling derrick, it is indistinguishable from any oceangoing cargo vessel; its purpose is to drill boreholes in areas where seismological and geological studies suggest oil may exist. The technical operation of this activity is highly plex, yet these vessels have achieved a remarkable level of success. However, they suffer from two major drawbacks. Although they are equipped with the most advanced and sophisticated naviga　

　　Captain Sir Horatio Hornblower sat in his bath, regarding with distaste his legs dangling over the end. They were thin and hairy, and recalled to his mind the legs of the spiders he had seen in Central America. It was hard to think about anything except his legs, seeing how much they were forced upon his attention by their position under his nose as he sat in this ridiculous bath; they hung out at one end while his body protruded from the water at the other. It was only the middle portion of him, from his waist to above his knees, which was submerged, and that was bent almost double. Hornblower found it irritating to have to take a bath in this fashion, although he tried not to allow it t　

Annajanska, the Bolshevik Empressby George Bernard ShawANNAJANSKA is frankly a bravura piece. The modern variety theatredemands for its "turns" little plays called sketches, to lasttwenty minutes or so, and to enable some favorite performer tomake a brief but dazzling appearance on some barely passabledramatic pretext. Miss Lillah McCarthy and I, as author andactress, have helped to make one another famous on many seriousoccasions, from Man and Superman to Androcles; and Mr CharlesRicketts has not disdained to snatch moments from his paintingand sculpture to design some wonderful dresses for us. We threeunbent as Mrs Siddons, Sir Joshua Reynolds and Dr Johnson might...　

THE HISTORY OF WHITTINGTONDICK WHITTINGTON was a very little boy when hisfather and mother died; so little, indeed, that he neverknew them, nor the place where he was born. Hestrolled about the country as ragged as a colt, till he metwith a wagoner who was going to London, and who gavehim leave to walk all the way by the side of his wagonwithout paying anything for his passage. This pleasedlittle Whittington very much, as he wanted to see Londonsadly, for he had heard that the streets were paved withgold, and he was willing to get a bushel of it; but howgreat was his disappointment, poor boy! when he sawthe streets covered with dirt instead of gold, and found...　

THE SEVEN FOALSTHERE was once upon a time a couple of poor folks who lived ina wretched hut, far away from everyone else, in a wood. Theyonly just managed to live from hand to mouth, and had great difficultyin doing even so much as that, but they had three sons, andthe youngest of them was called Cinderlad, for he did nothing elsebut lie and poke about among the ashes.One day the eldest lad said that he would go out to earn his living;he soon got leave to do that, and set out on his way into the world.He walked on and on for the whole day, and when night was beginningto fall he came to a royal palace. The King was standingoutside on the steps, and asked where he was going....　

THE DIVINE COMEDYTHE DIVINE COMEDYDANTE ALIGHIERI (1265-1321)TRANSLATED BY HENRY WADSWORTHLONGFELLOW (1807-1882)CANTICLE III: PARADISO1- Page 2-THE DIVINE COMEDYParadiso: Canto IThe glory of Him who moveth everything Doth penetrate theuniverse, and shine In one part more and in another less.Within that heaven which most his light receives Was I, and thingsbeheld which to repeat Nor knows, nor can, who from above descends;...