The Heroes, or Greek Fairy Tales For My Childrenby Charles KingsleyPREFACEMY DEAR CHILDREN,Some of you have heard already of the old Greeks; and all of you, as you grow up, will hear more and more of them. Those of you who are boys will, perhaps, spend a great deal of time in reading Greek books; and the girls, though they may not learn Greek, will be sure to come across a great many stories taken from Greek history, and to see, I may say every day, things which we should not have had if it had not been for these old Greeks. You can hardly find a well-written book which has not in it Greek names, and words, and proverbs; you cannot walk through a great town without passing Greek 　

THE LITTLE GOOD MOUSEONCE upon a time there lived a King and Queen who loved eachother so much that they were never happy unless they weretogether. Day after day they went out hunting or fishing; nightafter night they went to balls or to the opera; they sang, and danced,and ate sugar-plums, and were the gayest of the gay, and all theirsubjects followed their example so that the kingdom was called theJoyous Land. Now in the next kingdom everything was as differentas it could possibly be. The King was sulky and savage, and neverenjoyed himself at all. He looked so ugly and cross that all hissubjects feared him, and he hated the very sight of a cheerful face;...　

Once there was a miller who was poor, but who had a beautifuldaughter. Now it happened that he had to go and speak to theking, and in order to make himself appear important he saidto him, I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold. Theking said to the miller, that is an art whichpleases me well, if your daughter is as clever as you say, bringher to-morrow to my palace, and I will put her to the test.And when the girl was brought to him he took her into a roomwhich was quite full of straw, gave her a spinning-wheel and areel, and said, now set to work, and if by to-morrow morningearly you have not spun this straw into gold during the night,you must die. Thereupon he himself locked up 　

The Death of the Lionby Henry JamesCHAPTER I.I HAD simply, I suppose, a change of heart, and it must have begunwhen I received my manuscript back from Mr. Pinhorn. Mr. Pinhornwas my "chief," as he was called in the office: he had the highmission of bringing the paper up. This was a weekly periodical,which had been supposed to be almost past redemption when he tookhold of it. It was Mr. Deedy who had let the thing down sodreadfully: he was never mentioned in the office now save inconnexion with that misdemeanour. Young as I was I had been in amanner taken over from Mr. Deedy, who had been owner as well aseditor; forming part of a promiscuous lot, mainly plant and office-...　

Marquise de Brinvilliersby Alexandre Dumas, PereTowards the end of the year 1665, on a fine autumn evening, there was a considerable crowd assembled on the Pont-Neuf where it makes a turn down to the rue Dauphine. The object of this crowd and the centre of attraction was a closely shut, carriage. A police official was trying to force open the door, and two out of the four sergeants who were with him were holding the horses back and the other two stopping the driver, who paid no attention to their commands, but only endeavoured to urge his horses to a gallop. The struggle had been going on same time, when suddenly one of the doors violentiy pushed open, and a young officer in the uniform 　

POMPEY106-48 B.C.by Plutarchtranslated by John DrydenTHE people of Rome seem to have entertained for Pompey from hischildhood the same affection that Prometheus, in the tragedy ofAeschylus, expresses for Hercules, speaking of him as the author ofhis deliverance, in these words:-"Ah cruel Sire! how dear thy son to me!The generous offspring of my enemy!"For on the one hand, never did the Romans give such demonstrationsof a vehement and fierce hatred against any of their generals asthey did against Strabo, the father of Pompey; during whose...　

The Stokesley Secretby Charlotte M. YongeCHAPTER I."How can a pig pay the rent?"The question seemed to have been long under consideration, to judge by the manner in which it came out of the pouting lips of that sturdy young five-year-old gentleman, David Merrifield, as he sat on a volume of the great Latin Dictionary to raise him to a level with the tea-table.Long, however, as it had been considered, it was unheeded on account of one more interesting to the general public assembled round the table."I say!" hallooed out a tall lad of twelve holding aloft a slice taken from the dish in the centre of the table, "I say! what do you call this, Mary?"...　

The History and Practice of the Art of Photographyby Henry H. SnellingPREFACE.The object of this little work is to fill a void much complained of by Daguerreotypistsparticularly young beginers.The author has waited a long time in hopes that some more able pen would be devoted to the subject, but the wants of the numerous, and constantly increasing, class, just mentioned, induces him to wait no longer.All the English works on the subjectparticularly on the practical application, of Photogenic drawingare deficient in many minute details, which are essential to a complete understanding of the art. Many of their methods of operating are entirely different from, and much inferior to, those pract　

EconomyWhen I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, Ilived alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a housewhich I had built myself, on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord,Massachusetts, and earned my living by the labor of my hands only.I lived there two years and two months. At present I am a sojournerin civilized life again.I should not obtrude my affairs so much on the notice of myreaders if very particular inquiries had not been made by mytownsmen concerning my mode of life, which some would callimpertinent, though they do not appear to me at all impertinent,but, considering the circumstances, very natural and pertinent....　

To-morrowby Joseph ConradWhat was known of Captain Hagberd in the littleseaport of Colebrook was not exactly in his favour.He did not belong to the place. He had come tosettle there under circumstances not at all myste-rioushe used to be very communicative aboutthem at the timebut extremely morbid and un-reasonable. He was possessed of some little moneyevidently, because he bought a plot of ground, andhad a pair of ugly yellow brick cottages run upvery cheaply. He occupied one of them himselfand let the other to Josiah Carvilblind Carvil,the retired boat-buildera man of evil repute as a...　

The Red House Mysteryby A.A. Milne1The Red House MysteryTO JOHN VINE MILNE MY DEAR FATHER,Like all really nice people, you have a weakness for detective stories,and feel that there are not enough of them. So, after all that you havedone for me, the least that I can do for you is to write you one. Here itis: with more gratitude and affection than I can well put down here.A.A.M.2The Red House MysteryCHAPTER IMrs. Stevens is FrightenedIn the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House wastaking its siesta. There was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders,a gentle cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms. From distant lawns...　

Literary Boston As I Knew Itby William Dean HowellsAmong my fellow-passengers on the train from New York to Boston, when Iwent to begin my work there in 1866, as the assistant editor of theAtlantic Monthly, was the late Samuel Bowles, of the SpringfieldRepublican, who created in a subordinate city a journal of metropolitanimportance. I had met him in Venice several years earlier, when he wassuffering from the cruel insomnia which had followed his overwork on thatnewspaper, and when he told me that he was sleeping scarcely more thanone hour out of the twenty-four. His worn face attested the misery whichthis must have been, and which lasted in some measure while he lived,...