The Queen of Heartsby Wilkie CollinsLETTER OF DEDICATION.-TOEMILE FORGUES.-AT a time when French readers were altogether unaware of theexistence of any books of my writing, a critical examination ofmy novels appeared under your signature in the _Revue des DeuxMoudes_. I read that article, at the time of its appearance, withsincere pleasure and sincere gratitude to the writer, and I havehonestly done my best to profit by it ever since.At a later period, when arrangements were made for thepublication of my novels in Paris, you kindly undertook, at somesacrifice of your own convenience, to give the first of theseries"The Dead Secret"the great advantage of being rendered...　

THE AMERICAN NEGROHIS HISTORY AND LITERATURERUNNING A THOUSAND MILES FOR FREEDOMWilliam and Ellen CraftRUNNING A THOUSAND MILES FOR FREEDOM OR, THE ESCAPE OF WILLIAM AND ELLEN CRAFT FROM SLAVERY."Slaves cannot breathe in England: if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free; They touch our country, and their shackles fall."COWPERRUNNING A THOUSAND MILES FOR FREEDOMPREFACE.HAVING heard while in Slavery that "God made of one blood all nations of men," and also that the American Declaration of Independence says, that "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these, 　

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENUNDER THE WILLOW-TREEby Hans Christian AndersenTHE region round the little town of Kjoge is very bleak andcold. The town lies on the sea shore, which is always beautiful; buthere it might be more beautiful than it is, for on every side thefields are flat, and it is a long way to the forest. But whenpersons reside in a place and get used to it, they can always findsomething beautiful in it,- something for which they long, even in themost charming spot in the world which is not home. It must be ownedthat there are in the outskirts of the town some humble gardens on the...　

THE CELESTIAL RAILROADNot a great while ago, passing through the gate of dreams, Ivisited that region of the earth in which lies the famous City ofDestruction. It interested me much to learn that by the publicspirit of some of the inhabitants a railroad has recently beenestablished between this populous and flourishing town and theCelestial City. Having a little time upon my hands, I resolved togratify a liberal curiosity by making a trip thither.Accordingly, one fine morning after paying my bill at the hotel,and directing the porter to stow my luggage behind a coach, Itook my seat in the vehicle and set out for the station-house. Itwas my good fortune to enjoy the company of a gentlemanone　

ON THE SOULby Aristotletranslated by J. A. SmithBook I1HOLDING as we do that, while knowledge of any kind is a thing to be honoured and prized, one kind of it may, either by reason of its greater exactness or of a higher dignity and greater wonderfulness in its objects, be more honourable and precious than another, on both accounts we should naturally be led to place in the front rank the study of the soul. The knowledge of the soul admittedly contributes greatly to the advance of truth in general, and, above all, to our understanding of Nature, for the soul is in some sense the principle of animal life. Our aim is to grasp and understand, first its essenti　

PAUL THE PEDDLEROR THE FORTUNES OF A YOUNG STREET MERCHANTBY HORATIO ALGER, JR.BIOGRAPHY AND BIBLIOGRAPHYHoratio Alger, Jr., an author who lived among and for boys andhimself remained a boy in heart and association till death, wasborn at Revere, Mass., January 13, 1834. He was the son of aclergyman, was graduated at Harvard College in 1852, and at itsDivinity School in 1860 and was pastor of the Unitarian Church atBrewster, Mass., in 1862-66.In the latter year he settled in New York and began drawingpublic attention to the condition and needs of street boys. Hemingled with them, gained their confidence showed a personal...　

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENTHE SHIRT-COLLARby Hans Christian AndersenTHERE was once a fine gentleman who possessed among other things aboot-jack and a hair-brush; but he had also the finest shirt-collar inthe world, and of this collar we are about to hear a story. The collarhad become so old that he began to think about getting married; andone day he happened to find himself in the same washing-tub as agarter. "Upon my word," said the shirt-collar, "I have never seenanything so slim and delicate, so neat and soft before. May Iventure to ask your name?""I shall not tell you," replied the garter....　

Daisy Millerby Henry JamesIN TWO PARTSPART IAt the little town of Vevey, in Switzerland, there is aparticularly comfortable hotel. There are, indeed, many hotels,for the entertainment of tourists is the business of the place,which, as many travelers will remember, is seated upon the edgeof a remarkably blue lakea lake that it behooves every touristto visit. The shore of the lake presents an unbroken arrayof establishments of this order, of every category, from the"grand hotel" of the newest fashion, with a chalk-white front,a hundred balconies, and a dozen flags flying from its roof,...　

Samuel Brohl & Companyby Victor CherbuliezCHAPTER IWere the events of this nether sphere governed by the calculus of probabilities, Count Abel Larinski and Mlle. Antoinette Moriaz would almost unquestionably have arrived at the end of their respective careers without ever having met. Count Larinski lived in Vienna, Austria; Mlle. Moriaz never had been farther from Paris than Cormeilles, where she went every spring to remain throughout the fine weather. Neither at Cormeilles nor at Paris had she ever heard of Count Larinski; and he, on his part, was wholly unaware of the existence of Mlle. Moriaz. His mind was occupied with a gun of his own invention, which should have made his fortune, and 　

1872FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENWHAT ONE CAN INVENTby Hans Christian AndersenThere was once a young man who was studying to be a poet. Hewanted to become one by Easter, and to marry, and to live by poetry.To write poems, he knew, only consists in being able to inventsomething; but he could not invent anything. He had been born toolate- everything had been taken up before he came into the world,and everything had been written and told about."Happy people who were born a thousand years ago!" said he. "Itwas an easy matter for them to become immortal. Happy even was hewho was born a hundred years ago, for then there was still somethingabout which a poem could be written. Now the worl　

Robert Falconerby George MacDonaldTOTHE MEMORYOF THE MAN WHOSTANDS HIGHEST IN THE ORATORYOF MY MEMORY,ALEXANDER JOHN SCOTT,I, DARING, PRESUME TO DEDICATE THIS BOOK.PART I.HIS BOYHOOD.CHAPTER I.A RECOLLECTION.Robert Falconer, school-boy, aged fourteen, thought he had neverseen his father; that is, thought he had no recollection of havingever seen him. But the moment when my story begins, he had begun todoubt whether his belief in the matter was correct. And, as he wenton thinking, he became more and more assured that he had seen hisfather somewhere about six years before, as near as a thoughtful boy...　

CROME YELLOWCROME YELLOWBy ALDOUS HUXLEY1- Page 2-CROME YELLOWCHAPTER I.Along this particular stretch of line no express had ever passed. All thetrainsthe few that there werestopped at all the stations. Denis knewthe names of those stations by heart. Bole, Tritton, Spavin Delawarr,Knipswich for Timpany, West Bowlby, and, finally, Camlet-on-the-Water.Camlet was where he always got out, leaving the train to creep indolentlyonward, goodness only knew whither, into the green heart of England....