The Antiquities of the Jews (1)by Flavius JosephusTranslated by William WhistonPREFACE.1. Those who undertake to write histories, do not, I perceive,take that trouble on one and the same account, but for manyreasons, and those such as are very different one from another.For some of them apply themselves to this part of learning toshow their skill in composition, and that they may thereinacquire a reputation for speaking finely: others of them thereare, who write histories in order to gratify those that happen tobe concerned in them, and on that account have spared no pains,but rather gone beyond their own abilities in the performance:but others there are, who, of necessity and by force, are　

Ragged Lady, v2by William Dean HowellsPart 2XV.Mrs. Lander went to a hotel in New York where she had been in the habitof staying with her husband, on their way South or North. The clerk knewher, and shook hands with her across the register, and said she couldhave her old rooms if she wanted them; the bell-boy who took up theirhand-baggage recalled himself to her; the elevator-boy welcomed her witha smile of remembrance.Since she was already up, from coming off the sleeping-car, she had noexcuse for not going to breakfast like other people; and she went withClementina to the dining-room, where the head-waiter, who found themplaces, spoke with an outlandish accent, and the waiter who served　

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...　

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRAANTONY ANDCLEOPATRAWilliam Shakespeare16071- Page 2-ANTONY AND CLEOPATRADRAMATIS PERSONAEMARK ANTONY, Triumvirs OCTAVIUS CAESAR, " M.AEMILIUS LEPIDUS, " SEXTUS POMPEIUS, " DOMITIUSENOBARBUS, friend to Antony VENTIDIUS, " " " EROS, " " "SCARUS, " " " DERCETAS, " " " DEMETRIUS, " " " PHILO, " " "MAECENAS, friend to Caesar AGRIPPA, " " " DOLABELLA, " " "...　

　1　 With a gentle sigh the service tube dropped a message capsule into the receiving cup. The attention bell chimed once and was silent. Jason dinAlt stared at the harmless capsule as though it were a ticking bomb.　 Something was going wrong. He felt a hard knot of tension form inside of him. This was no routine service memo or hotel munication, but a sealed personal message. Yet he knew no one on this planet, having arrived by spacer less than eight hours earlier. Since even his name was new-dating back to the last time he had changed ships- there could be no personal messages. Yet here one was.　 Stripping the seal with his thumbnail, he took the top off. The recorder in the pencil-sized c　

　　I am a vampire. Blood does not bother me. I like blood. Even seeing my own blood does not frighten me. But what my blood can do to others-to the whole world for that matter-terrifies me. Once God made me take a vow to create no more vampires. Once I believed in God. But my belief, like my vow, has been shattered too many times in my long life. I am Alisa Perne, the now-forgotten Sita, child of a demon. I am the oldest living creature on earth.　　I awake in a living room smelling of death. I watch as my blood trickles through a thin plastic tube into the arm of Special Agent Joel Drake, FBI. He now lives as a vampire instead of the human being he was when he closed his eyes. I have broken m　

　　　I am a vampire, and that is the truth. But the modern meaning of the word vampire, the stories that have been told about creatures such as I, are not precisely true. I do not turn to ash in the sun, nor do I cringe when I see a crucifix. I wear a tiny gold cross now around my neck, but only because I like it. I cannot mand a pack of wolves to attack or fly through the air. Nor can I make another of my kind simply by having him drink my blood. Wolves do like me, though, as do most predators, and I can jump so high that one might imagine I can fly. As to blood-ah, blood, the whole subject fascinates me. I do like that as well, warm and dripping, when I am thirsty. And I am often thirsty...　

Disclaimer　　　　　　There is more than one reason why the Crown finds this overimaginative work most unacceptable.　　　First and foremost, of course, is that it purports to be about a planet called "Earth" and no such planet exists under that name or its pretended astrographic designation of Blito-P3. Admittedly, it has been cleverly created down to characters and locations. That is the precise danger for the unsuspecting reader.　　　It is also claimed that "Earth" is on the Invasion Timetable and thus scheduled for capture. The Timetable bequeathed by our ancestors has the status of Divine mand. It has unerringly guided us for well over 125,000 years. Altering it in any way would disrupt every sec　

MRS. BULLFROGIt makes me melancholy to see how like fools some very sensiblepeople act in the matter of choosing wives. They perplex theirjudgments by a most undue attention to little niceties ofpersonal appearance, habits, disposition, and other trifles whichconcern nobody but the lady herself. An unhappy gentleman,resolving to wed nothing short of perfection, keeps his heart andhand till both get so old and withered that no tolerable womanwill accept them. Now this is the very height of absurdity. Akind Providence has so skilfully adapted sex to sex and the massof individuals to each other, that, with certain obviousexceptions, any male and female may be moderately happy in the...　

　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　

The Diary of Samuel Pepysby Samuel PepysFROM 1659 TO 1669WITH MEMOIREdited by LORD BRAYBROOKEPREFACE TO THE PRESENT EDITIONThe Celebrated work here presented to the public under peculiar advantages may require a few introductory remarks.By the publication, during the last half century, of autobiographies, Diaries, and Records of Personal Character; this class of literature has been largely enriched, not only with works calculated for the benefit of the student, but for that larger class of readersthe people, who in the byeways of History and Biography which these works present, gather much of the national life at many periods, and pictures of manners and customs, habits and amusements, such