The Book of Snobsby William Makepeace ThackerayTHE BOOK OF SNOBSBY ONE OF THEMSELVESPREFATORY REMARKS(The necessity of a work on Snobs, demonstrated fromHistory, and proved by felicitous illustrations: I amthe individual destined to write that workMy vocationis announced in terms of great eloquenceI show that theworld has been gradually preparing itself for the WORKand the MANSnobs are to be studied like other objectsof Natural Science, and are a part of the Beautiful (witha large B). They pervade all classesAffecting instanceof Colonel Snobley.)We have all read a statement, (the authenticity of which...
BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS - H. H. MUNRO ("SAKI")CONTENTSTHE SHE-WOLFLAURATHE BOAR-PIGTHE BROGUETHE HENTHE OPEN WINDOWTHE TREASURE-SHIPTHE COBWEBTHE LULLTHE UNKINDEST BLOWTHE ROMANCERSTHE SCHARTZ-METTERKLUME METHODTHE SEVENTH PULLETTHE BLIND SPOTDUSKA TOUCH OF REALISMCOUSIN TERESATHE YARKAND MANNERTHE BYZANTINE OMELETTETHE FEAST OF NEMESISTHE DREAMERTHE QUINCE TREETHE FORBIDDEN BUZZARDSTHE STAKECLOVIS ON PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITIESA HOLIDAY TASKTHE STALLED OXTHE STORY-TELLERA DEFENSIVE DIAMONDTHE ELK"DOWN PENS"THE NAME-DAYTHE LUMBER ROOM...
A PRINCESS OF MARSby Edgar Rice BurroughsCHAPTER ION THE ARIZONA HILLSI am a very old man; how old I do not know. Possibly I ama hundred, possibly more; but I cannot tell because I havenever aged as other men, nor do I remember any childhood.So far as I can recollect I have always been a man, a manof about thirty. I appear today as I did forty years andmore ago, and yet I feel that I cannot go on living forever;that some day I shall die the real death from which there isno resurrection. I do not know why I should fear death,I who have died twice and am still alive; but yet I have thesame horror of it as you who have never died, and it is...
This novel is dedicated to Stan, Christopher, Michele and Howard; to Rosario and Patrice; to Pamela and Elaine; and to Niccolo. This novel is dedicated by Vittorio to the people of Florence, Italy. 1 WHO I AM, WHY I WRITE, WHAT IS TO E WHEN I was a small boy I had a terrible dream. I dreamt I held in my arms the severed heads of my younger brother I and sister. They were quick still, and mute, with big fluttering eyes, and reddened cheeks, and so horrified was I that I could make no more of a sound than they could. The dream came true. But no one will weep for me or for them. They have been buried, nameless, beneath five centuries of time. I am a vampire. My name is Vittorio, and I writ
THE FRIENDLY ROADTHE FRIENDLY ROADby DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY1- Page 2-THE FRIENDLY ROADA WORD TO HIM WHO OPENSTHIS BOOKI did not plan when I began writing these chapters to make an entirebook, but only to put down the more or less unusual impressions, theevents and adventures, of certain quiet pilgrimages in country roads. Butwhen I had written down all of these things, I found I had material inplenty."What shall I call it now that I have written it?" I asked myself....
THE MIRROR OF KONG HOTHE MIRROR OFKONG HOBY ERNEST BRAMAH1- Page 2-THE MIRROR OF KONG HOA lively and amusing collection of letters on western living written byKong Ho, a Chinese gentleman. These addressed to his homeland, refer tothe Westerners in London as barbarians and many of the aids to life in oursociety give Kong Ho endless food for thought. These are things such asthe motor car and the piano; unknown in China at this time.2- Page 3-THE MIRROR OF KONG HO...
Three Men in a Boatby Jerome K. JeromeTHREE MEN IN A BOAT(TO SAY NOTHING OF THE DOG).Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. JeromeCHAPTER I.THREE INVALIDS. - SUFFERINGS OF GEORGE AND HARRIS. - A VICTIM TO ONEHUNDRED AND SEVEN FATAL MALADIES. - USEFUL PRESCRIPTIONS. - CURE FORLIVER COMPLAINT IN CHILDREN. - WE AGREE THAT WE ARE OVERWORKED, AND NEEDREST. - A WEEK ON THE ROLLING DEEP? - GEORGE SUGGESTS THE RIVER. -MONTMORENCY LODGES AN OBJECTION. - ORIGINAL MOTION CARRIED BY MAJORITY OFTHREE TO ONE.THERE were four of us - George, and William Samuel Harris, and myself,and Montmorency. We were sitting in my room, smoking, and talking about...
INDIAN BOYHOOD BY OHIYESAINDIAN BOYHOOD BYOHIYESA(CHARLES A. EASTMAN)1- Page 2-INDIAN BOYHOOD BY OHIYESAI Earliest RecollectionsI: Hadakah, "The Pitiful Last"WHAT boy would not be an Indian for a while when he thinks of thefreest life in the world? This life was mine. Every day there was a realhunt. There was real game. Occasionally there was a medicine danceaway off in the woods where no one could disturb us, in which the boys...
Youthby Leo TolstoyTranslated by C. J. HogarthIWHAT I CONSIDER TO HAVE BEEN THE BEGINNING OF MY YOUTHI have said that my friendship with Dimitri opened up for me anew view of my life and of its aim and relations. The essence ofthat view lay in the conviction that the destiny of man is tostrive for moral improvement, and that such improvement is atonce easy, possible, and lasting. Hitherto, however, I had foundpleasure only in the new ideas which I discovered to arise fromthat conviction, and in the forming of brilliant plans for amoral, active future, while all the time my life had beencontinuing along its old petty, muddled, pleasure-seeking course,...
The Three Partnersby Bret HartePROLOGUE.The sun was going down on the Black Spur Range. The red light ithad kindled there was still eating its way along the serried crest,showing through gaps in the ranks of pines, etching out theinterstices of broken boughs, fading away and then flashing suddenlyout again like sparks in burnt-up paper. Then the night wind sweptdown the whole mountain side, and began its usual struggle with theshadows upclimbing from the valley, only to lose itself in the endand be absorbed in the all-conquering darkness. Yet for some timethe pines on the long slope of Heavy Tree Hill murmured and...
IT WAS nothing out of the ordinary that Mrs. Barry Rackham had made the appointment with her finger pressed to her lips. That is by no means an unusual gesture for people who find themselves in a situation where the best thing they can think of is to make arrangements to see Nero Wolfe. With Mrs. Barry Rackham the shushing finger was only figurative, since she made the date speaking to me on the phone. It was in her voice, low and jerky, and also in the way she kept telling me how confidential it was, even after I solemnly assured her that we rarely notified the press when someone requested an appointment on business. At the end she told me once more that she would have preferred to spea
The Ways of Menby Eliot GregoryChapter 1 - "UNCLE SAM"THE gentleman who graced the gubernatorial arm-chair of our state when this century was born happened to be an admirer of classic lore and the sonorous names of antiquity.It is owing to his weakness in bestowing pompous cognomens on our embryo towns and villages that to-day names like Utica, Syracuse, and Ithaca, instead of evoking visions of historic pomp and circumstance, raise in the minds of most Americans the picture of cocky little cities, rich only in trolley-cars and Methodist meeting-houses.When, however, this cultured governor, in his ardor, christened one of the cities Troy, and the hill in its vicinity Mount Ida, he