When the World ShookBeing an Account of the Great Adventureof Bastin, Bickley and Arbuthnotby H. Rider HaggardDEDICATIONDitchingham, 1918.MY DEAR CURZON,More than thirty years ago you tried to protect me, then astranger to you, from one of the falsest and most malignantaccusations ever made against a writer.So complete was your exposure of the methods of those at workto blacken a person whom they knew to be innocent, that, as youwill remember, they refused to publish your analysis whichdestroyed their charges and, incidentally, revealed theirmotives.Although for this reason vindication came otherwise, your...　

The Portygeeby Joseph C. LincolnCHAPTER IOverhead the clouds cloaked the sky; a ragged cloak it was, and,here and there, a star shone through a hole, to be obscured almostinstantly as more cloud tatters were hurled across the rent. Thepines threshed on the hill tops. The bare branches of the wild-cherry and silverleaf trees scraped and rattled and tossed. Andthe wind, the raw, chilling December wind, driven in, wet andsalty, from the sea, tore over the dunes and brown uplands andacross the frozen salt-meadows, screamed through the telegraphwires, and made the platform of the dismal South Harniss railwaystation the lonesomest, coldest, darkest and most miserable spot on...　

　　　On August 23, the day before the hurricane struck, Max and Bonnie Lamb awoke early, made love twice and rode the shuttle bus to Disney World. That evening they returned to the Peabody Hotel, showered separately, switched on the cable news and saw that the storm was heading directly for the southeastern tip of Florida. The TV weatherman warned that it was the fiercest in many years.　　Max Lamb sat at the foot of the bed and gazed at the color radar image-a ragged flame-colored sphere, spinning counterclockwise toward the coast. He said, "Jesus, look at that."　　A hurricane, Bonnie Lamb thought, on our honeymoon! As she slipped under the sheets, she heard the rain beating on the rental cars 　

PersuasionJane Austen- Page 2-ELECBOOK CLASSICSebc0046. Jane Austen: PersuasionThis file is free for individual use only. It must not be altered or resold.Organisations wishing to use it must first obtain a licence.Low cost licenses are available. Contact us through our web site(C) The Electric Book Co 1998The Electric Book Company Ltd20 Cambridge Drive, London SE12 8AJ, UK+44 (0)181 488 3872 www.elecbook- Page 3-Jane Austen: Persuasion 3...　

The Man of the Forestby Zane GreyCHAPTER IAt sunset hour the forest was still, lonely, sweet with tangof fir and spruce, blazing in gold and red and green; andthe man who glided on under the great trees seemed to blendwith the colors and, disappearing, to have become a part ofthe wild woodland.Old Baldy, highest of the White Mountains, stood up roundand bare, rimmed bright gold in the last glow of the settingsun. Then, as the fire dropped behind the domed peak, achange, a cold and darkening blight, passed down the blackspear-pointed slopes over all that mountain world.It was a wild, richly timbered, and abundantly wateredregion of dark forests and grassy parks, ten thousand feet...　

The Americanization of Edward BokThe Autobiography of a Dutch Boy Fifty Years Afterby Edward William BokTo the American woman I owe much, but to two women I owe more, My mother and my wife. And to them I dedicate this account of the boy to whom one gave birth and brought to manhood and the other blessed with all a home and family may mean.An ExplanationThis book was to have been written in 1914, when I foresaw some leisure to write it, for I then intended to retire from active editorship. But the war came, an entirely new set of duties commanded, and the project was laid aside.Its title and the form, however, were then chosen. By the form I refer particularly to the use of the third perso　

　The red sun balances on the highest ramparts of the mountains, and in its waning light, the foothills appear to be ablaze. A cool breeze blows down out of the sun and fans through the tall dry grass, which streams like waves of golden fire along the slopes toward the rich and shadowed valley.　In the knee-high grass, he stands with his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket, studying the vineyards below. The vines were pruned during the winter. The new growing season has just begun. The colorful wild mustard that flourished between the rows during the colder months has been chopped back and the stubble plowed under. The earth is dark and fertile.　The vineyards encircle a barn, outbuilding　

　　　　　　HE SEEMED INCAPABLE of creating such chaos, but much of what he saw below could be blamed on him. And that was fine. He was ninety-one, paralyzed, strapped in a wheelchair and hooked to oxygen. His second stroke seven years ago had almost finished him off, but Abraham Rosenberg was still alive and even with tubes in his nose his legal stick was bigger than the other eight. He was the only legend remaining on the Court, and the fact that he was still breathing irritated most of the mob below.　　　　He sat in a small wheelchair in an office on the main floor of the Supreme Court Building. His feet touched the edge of the window, and he strained forward as the noise increased. He hated cops　

　　December 6, 1996　　Epworth Heights Luddington, Michigan　　My Dearest Kay,　　1 am sitting on the porch, staring out at Lake Michigan as a sharp wind reminds me I need to cut my hair. 1 am remembering when we were here last, both of us abandoning who and what we are for one precious moment in the history of our time. Kay, I need you to listen to me.　　You are reading this because I am dead When I decided to write it, 1 asked Senator Lord to deliver it to you in person in the early part of December, a year after my death. I know how hard Christmas has always been for you, and now it must be unbearable. Loving you was when my life began. Now that it has ended, your gift to me is to go on....　

　Sao Paulo Airport, Brazil, 1991　　 With a POWERFUL KICK FROM ITS twin turbofan engines, the sleek executive jet lifted off the runway and shot into the vaulted skies above Sao Paulo. Climbing rapidly over the biggest city in South America, the Learjet soon reached its cruising altitude of thirty-nine thousand feet and raced toward the northwest at five hundred miles an hour. Seated in a fortable rear-facing chair at the back of the cabin, Professor Francesca Cabral peered wistfully out the window at the cottony cloud cover, already missing the smog cloaked streets and sizzling energy of her hometown. A muffled snort from across the narrow aisle interrupted her musings. She glanced over at t　

　　At midmorning of a broiling summer day the life of Three Counties Hospital ebbed and flowed like tide currents around an offshore island. Outside the hospital the citizens of Burlington, Pennsylvania, perspired under a ninety-degree shade temperature with 78 per cent humidity. Down by the steel mills and the rail yards, where there was little shade and no thermometers, the reading-if anyone had bothered to take it-would have been a good deal higher. Within the hospital it was cooler than outside, but not much. Among patients and staff only the fortunate or influential escaped the worst of the heat in air-conditioned rooms.　There was no air conditioning in the admitting department on the m　

Short Logicby HegelI: Introduction§ 1. Objects of Philosophy§ 2. Reflective Thought§ 3. The Content of Philosophy§ 4. Popular Modes of Thought§ 5. Reason§ 6. All that is Rational is Real§ 7. Beginning to Reflect§ 8. Empirical Knowledge§ 9. Speculative Logic§ 10. The Critical Philosophy§ 11. Conditions for the existence of Philosophy§ 12. The Rise of Philosophy§ 13. The History of Philosophy§ 14. The System of Philosophy§ 15. Each of the parts of philosophy is a philosophical Whole.§ 16. The form of an Encyclopaedia§ 17. How to Begin?§ 18. Subdivision of philosophy into three Parts...