THE WRECK OF THE GOLDEN MARYTHE WRECK OF THEGOLDEN MARYCharles Dickens1- Page 2-THE WRECK OF THE GOLDEN MARYTHE WRECKI was apprenticed to the Sea when I was twelve years old, and I haveencountered a great deal of rough weather, both literal and metaphorical. Ithas always been my opinion since I first possessed such a thing as anopinion, that the man who knows only one subject is next tiresome to theman who knows no subject. Therefore, in the course of my life I have...　

Record of Buddhistic Kingdomsby Fa-HienBeing an Account by the Chinese Monk Fa-Hien of his Travels in India and Ceylon (A.D. 399-414) in Search of the Buddhist Books of DisciplineTranslated and annotated with a Corean recension of the Chinese textBYJAMES LEGGEPREFACESeveral times during my long residence in Hong Kong I endeavoured to read through the "Narrative of Fa-hien;" but though interested with the graphic details of much of the work, its columns bristled so constantlynow with his phonetic representations of Sanskrit words, and now with his substitution for them of their meanings in Chinese characters, and I was, moreover, so much occupied with my own special labours on the Confucian 　

　A January gale was roaring up the Channel, blustering loudly, and bearing in its bosom rain squalls whose big drops rattled loudly on the tarpaulin clothing of those among the officers and men whose duties kept them on deck. So hard and so long had the gale blown that even in the sheltered waters of Spithead the battleship moved uneasily at her anchors, pitching a little in the choppy seas, and snubbing herself against the tautened cables with unexpected jerks. A shore boat was on its way out to her, propelled by oars in the hands of two sturdy women; it danced madly on the steep little waves, now and then putting its nose into one and sending a sheet of spray flying aft. The oarswoman in 　

David Elginbrodby George MacDonaldAnd gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche.CHAUCER.TO THE MEMORY OFLADY NOEL BYRON,THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED,WITH A LOVE STRONGER THAN DEATH.BOOK I.TURRIEPUFFIT.With him there was a Ploughman, was his brother.A trew?swinker, and a good was he,Living in peace and perfect charity.God loved he best with all his trew?heart,At all?tim閟, were it gain or smart,And then his neigh閎our right as himselve.CHAUCER.Prologue to the Canterbury Tales.CHAPTER I.THE FIR-WOOD.Of all the flowers in the mead,Then love I roost these flowers white and rede,Such that men callen daisies in our town....　

Dream Life and Real Life A Little African StoryDream Life and Real LifeA Little African Storyby Olive Schreiner1- Page 2-Dream Life and Real Life A Little African StoryAuthor of "The Story of an African Farm" and "Dreams"Dedication.To My Brother Fred,For whose little school magazine the first of these tiny storiesone of the first I ever madewas written out many long years ago.O.S.New College, Eastbourne, Sept. 29, 1893.Kopjes - In the karoo, are hillocks of stones, that rise up singly or in...　

Democracy In America, Volume 1by Alexis de ToquevilleTranslator - Henry ReeveBook OneIntroductionSpecial Introduction By Hon. John T. MorganIn the eleven years that separated the Declaration of the Independence of the United States from the completion of that act in the ordination of our written Constitution, the great minds of America were bent upon the study of the principles of government that were essential to the preservation of the liberties which had been won at great cost and with heroic labors and sacrifices. Their studies were conducted in view of the imperfections that experience had developed in the government of the Confederation, and they were, therefore, practical and thorou　

SAMUEL BROHL & COMPANYSAMUEL BROHL &COMPANYVICTOR CHERBULIEZ1- Page 2-SAMUEL BROHL & COMPANYCHAPTER IWere the events of this nether sphere governed by the calculus ofprobabilities, Count Abel Larinski and Mlle. Antoinette Moriaz wouldalmost unquestionably have arrived at the end of their respective careerswithout ever having met. Count Larinski lived in Vienna, Austria; Mlle.Moriaz never had been farther from Paris than Cormeilles, where she went...　

　　　　Missing Mile, North Carolina, in the summer of 1972 was scarcely more than a wide spot in the road. The main street was shaded by a few great spreading pecans and oaks, flanked by a few even larger, more sprawling Southern homes too far off any beaten path to have fallen to the scourge of the Civil War. The ravages and triumphs of the past decade seemed to have touched the town not at all, not at first glance. You might think that here was a place adrift in a gentler time, a place where Peace reigned naturally, and did not have to be blazoned on banners or worn around the neck.　　You might think that, if you were just driving through. Stay long enough, and you would begin to see signs. L　

　　1　　 mander James D. Swanson of the U.S. Navy was short, plump and crowding forty. He had jet-black hair topping a pink, cherubic face, and with the deep permanent creases of laughter lines radiating from his eyes and curving around his mouth, he was a dead ringer for the cheerful, happy-golucky extrovert who is the life and soul of the party where the guests park their brains along with their hats and coats. That, anyway, was how he struck me at first glance, but on the reasonable assumption that I might very likely find some other qualities in the man picked to mand the latest and most powerful nuclear submarine afloat I took a second and closer look at him and this time I saw what I sho　

　　Asx　　i must ask your permission. You, my rings, my diverse selves.　　Vote now! Shall i speak for all of us to the outer world? Shall we join, once more, to bee Asx?　　That is the name used by humans, qheuens, and other beings, when they address this stack of circles. By that name, this coalition of plump, traeki rings was elected a sage of the mons, respected and revered, sitting in judgment on members of all six exile races.　　By that name-Asx-we are called upon to tell tales. Is it agreed?　　Then Asx now bears witness... to events we endured, and those relayed by others. "I" will tell it, as if this stack were mad enough to face the world with but a single mind.　　Asx brews this tale. Stroke　

The Hunchback of Notre Dameby Victor HugoPREFACE.A few years ago, while visiting or, rather, rummaging about Notre-Dame, the author of this book found, in an obscure nook of one of the towers, the following word, engraved by hand upon the wall:~ANArKH~.These Greek capitals, black with age, and quite deeply graven in the stone, with I know not what signs peculiar to Gothic caligraphy imprinted upon their forms and upon their attitudes, as though with the purpose of revealing that it had been a hand of the Middle Ages which had inscribed them there, and especially the fatal and melancholy meaning contained in them, struck the author deeply.He questioned himself; he sought to divine who could 　

The Sign of the FourThe Sign of the FourBy Sir Arthur Conan Doyle1- Page 2-The Sign of the FourCHAPTER 1 The Science ofDeductionSherlock Holmes took his bottle from the corner of the mantel- pieceand his hypodermic syringe from its neat morocco case. With his long,white, nervous fingers he adjusted the delicate needle, and rolled back hisleft shirt-cuff. For some little time his eyes rested thoughtfully upon thesinewy forearm and wrist all dotted and scarred with innumerable...