Memoirs of General William T. Shermanby William Tecumseh ShermanVolume 1GENERAL W. T. SHERMANHIS COMRADES IN ARMS,VOLUNTEERS AND REGULARS.Nearly ten years have passed since the close of the civil war in America, and yet no satisfactory history thereof is accessible to the public; nor should any be attempted until the Government has published, and placed within the reach of students, the abundant materials that are buried in the War Department at Washington. These are in process of compilation; but, at the rate of progress for the past ten years, it is probable that a new century will come before they are published and circulated, with full indexes to enable the historian to make a judicious　

For the Term of His Natural Lifeby Marcus ClarkeDEDICATIONTOSIR CHARLES GAVAN DUFFYMy Dear Sir Charles, I take leave to dedicate this work to you, not merely because your nineteen years of political and literary life in Australia render it very fitting that any work written by a resident in the colonies, and having to do with the history of past colonial days, should bear your name upon its dedicatory page; but because the publication of my book is due to your advice and encouragement.The convict of fiction has been hitherto shown only at the beginning or at the end of his career. Either his exile has been the mysterious end to his misdeeds, or he has appeared upon the scene to claim inte　

　　 HIS NAME WAS THORNE. In the ancient language of the runes, it had been longer-Thornevald. But when he became a blood drinker, his name had been changed to Thorne. And Thorne he remained now, centuries later, as he lay in his cave in the ice, dreaming.　 When he had first e to the frozen land, he had hoped he would sleep eternally. But now and then the thirst for blood awakened him and using the Cloud Gift, he rose into the air, and went in search of the Snow Hunters.　 He fed off them, careful never to take too much blood from any one so that none died on account of him. And when he needed furs anc boots he took them as well, and returned to his hiding place.　 These Snow Hunters were n　

The Pathfinder, or, The Inland Seaby James Fenimore CooperPREFACEThe plan of this tale suggested itself to the writer manyyears since, though the details are altogether of recent in-vention. The idea of associating seamen and savages inincidents that might be supposed characteristic of theGreat Lakes having been mentioned to a Publisher, thelatter obtained something like a pledge from the Authorto carry out the design at some future day, which pledgeis now tardily and imperfectly redeemed.The reader may recognize an old friend under new cir-cumstances in the principal character of this legend. Ifthe exhibition made of this old acquaintance, in the novel...　

Memoirs of General William T. Shermanby William Tecumseh ShermanVolume 2CHAPTER XVI.ATLANTA CAMPAIGN-NASHVILLE AND CHATTANOOGA TO BENEBAW.MARCH, APRIL, AND MAY, 1864.On the 18th day of March, 1864, at Nashville, Tennessee, I relieved Lieutenant-General Grant in command of the Military Division of the Mississippi, embracing the Departments of the Ohio, Cumberland, Tennessee, and Arkansas, commanded respectively by Major-Generals Schofield, Thomas, McPherson, and Steele. General Grant was in the act of starting East to assume command of all the armies of the United States, but more particularly to give direction in person to the Armies of the Potomac and James, operating against Richmond; an　

　　LIKE THE THEATER DISTRICTS OF so many great cities across the Imajica, whether in Reconciled Dominions or in the Fifth, the neighborhood in which the Ipse stood had been a place of some notoriety in earlier times, when actors of both sexes had supplemented their wages with the old five-acter-hiring, retiring, seduction, conjunction, and remittance-all played hourly, night and day. The center of these activities had moved away, however, to the other side of the city, where the burgeoning numbers of middle-class clients felt less exposed to the gaze of their peers out seeking more respectable entertainment. Lickerish Street and its environs had sprung up in a matter of months and quickly be　

　　 HIS NAME WAS THORNE. In the ancient language of the runes, it had been longer-Thornevald. But when he became a blood drinker, his name had been changed to Thorne. And Thorne he remained now, centuries later, as he lay in his cave in the ice, dreaming.　 When he had first e to the frozen land, he had hoped he would sleep eternally. But now and then the thirst for blood awakened him and using the Cloud Gift, he rose into the air, and went in search of the Snow Hunters.　 He fed off them, careful never to take too much blood from any one so that none died on account of him. And when he needed furs and boots he took them as well, and returned to his hiding place.　 These Snow Hunters were n　

　　THOMAS COVENANT is a happy and successful author until an unfelt infection leads to the amputation of two fingers. Then his doctor tells him he has leprosy. The disease is arrested at a leprosarium, but he returns home to find himself an outcast. His wife has divorced him and ignorant fear makes all his neighbors shun him. He bees a lonely, bitter pariah.　In rebellion, he goes to town. There, just after he meets a strange beggar, he stumbles in front of a police car. Disorientation overes him. He revives in a strange world where the evil voice of Lord Foul gives him a mocking message of doom to the Lords of the Land. When Foul leaves, a young girl named Lena takes him to her home. There h　

　　IT WAS THE PIVOTAL TEACHING of Pluthero Quexos, the most celebrated dramatist of the Second Dominion, that in any fiction, no matter how ambitious its scope or profound its theme, there was only ever room for three players. Between warring kings, a peacemaker; between adoring spouses, a seducer or a child. Between twins, the spirit of the womb. Between lovers, Death. Greater numbers might drift through the drama, of course-thousands in fact-but they could only ever be phantoms, agents, or, on rare occasions, reflections of the three real and self-willed beings who stood at the center. And even this essential trio would not remain intact; or so he taught. It would steadily diminish as the 　

Book ICHAPTER I.MASLOVA IN PRISON.Though hundreds of thousands had done their very best todisfigure the small piece of land on which they were crowdedtogether, by paying the ground with stones, scraping away everyvestige of vegetation, cutting down the trees, turning away birdsand beasts, and filling the air with the smoke of naphtha andcoal, still spring was spring, even in the town.The sun shone warm, the air was balmy; everywhere, where it didnot get scraped away, the grass revived and sprang up between thepaving-stones as well as on the narrow strips of lawn on theboulevards. The birches, the poplars, and the wild cherryunfolded their gummy and fragrant leaves, the limes were...　

The French Revolution, Volume 1.The Origins of Contemporary France, Volume 2by Hippolyte A. TaineCONTENTS:ANARCHYPREFACEBOOK FIRST. Spontaneous Anarchy.CHAPTER I. The Beginnings of AnarchyCHAPTER II. Paris up to the 14th of JulyCHAPTER III. Anarchy from July 14th to October 6th, 1789CHAPTER IV. PARISBOOK SECOND. The constituent Assembly, and the Result of its LaborsCHAPTER I. The Constituent AssemblyCHAPTER II. The DamageCHAPTER III. The Constructions - The Constitution of 1791....　

The Lesser Bourgeoisieby Honore de BalzacTranslated by Katharine Prescott WormeleyDEDICATIONTo Constance-Victoire.Here, madame, is one of those books which come into the mind,whence no one knows, giving pleasure to the author before he canforesee what reception the public, our great present judge, willaccord to it. Feeling almost certain of your sympathy in mypleasure, I dedicate the book to you. Ought it not to belong toyou as the tithe formerly belonged to the Church in memory of God,who makes all things bud and fruit in the fields and in theintellect?A few lumps of clay, left by Moliere at the feet of his colossalstatue of Tartuffe, have here been kneaded by a hand more daring...