The Iron Puddlerby James J. DavisMY LIFE IN THE ROLLING MILLS AND WHAT CAME OF ITIntroduction by JOSEPH G. CANNONThe man whose life story is here presented between book covers is at the time of writing only forty-eight years old. When I met him many years ago he was a young man full of enthusiasm. I remember saying to him then, "With your enthusiasm and the sparkle which you have in your eyes I am sure you will make good."Why should so young a man, one so recently elevated to official prominence, write his memoirs? That question will occur to those who do not know Jim Davis. His elevation to a Cabinet post marks not the beginning of his career, but rather is the curtain-rise on the second a　

SHERLOCK HOLMESTHE ADVENTURE OF THE MAZARIN STONEby Sir Arthur Conan DoyleIt was pleasant to Dr. Watson to find himself once more in theuntidy room of the first floor in Baker Street which had been thestarting-point of so many remarkable adventures. He looked round himat the scientific charts upon the wall, the acid-charred bench ofchemicals, the violin-case leaning in the corner, the coal-scuttle,which contained of old the pipes and tobacco. Finally, his eyes cameround to the fresh and smiling face of Billy, the young but verywise and tactful page, who had helped a little to fill up the gap of...　

The Faith of MenThe Faith of MenBy Jack London1- Page 2-The Faith of MenA RELIC OF THE PLIOCENEI wash my hands of him at the start. I cannot father his tales, nor willI be responsible for them. I make these preliminary reservations, observe,as a guard upon my own integrity. I possess a certain definite position ina small way, also a wife; and for the good name of the community thathonours my existence with its approval, and for the sake of her posterity...　

THE EVOLUTION OF MODERN MEDICINETHE EVOLUTION OFMODERN MEDICINEA SERIES OF LECTURES DELIVERED AT YALEUNIVERSITY ON THE SILLIMAN FOUNDATION IN APRIL, 1913by WILLIAM OSLER1- Page 2-THE EVOLUTION OF MODERN MEDICINETHE SILLIMAN FOUNDATIONIN the year 1883 a legacy of eighty thousand dollars was left to thePresident and Fellows of Yale College in the city of New Haven, to beheld in trust, as a gift from her children, in memory of their beloved and...　

The Life of Sir John Oldcastleby William Shakespeare [Apocrypha]The Actors Names in the History of Sir John Oldcastle.King Henry the Fifth.Sir John Old-castle, Lord Cobham.Harpoole, Servant to the Lord Cobham.Lord Herbert, with Gough his man.Lord Powis, with Owen and Davy his men.The Mayor of Hereford, and Sheriff of Herefordshire, with Bailiffsand Servants.Two Judges of Assize.The Bishop of Rochester and Clun his Sumner.Sir John the Parson of Wrotham, and Doll his Concubine.The Duke of Suffolk.The Earl of Huntington.The Earl of Cambridge.Lord Scroop and Lord Grey.Chartres the French Agent.Sir Roger Acton.Sir Richard Lee.M. Bourn, M. Beverly, and Murley the Brewer of Dunstable, rebels....　

　Up at the unpeopled borderland of cloudy heaven, where unending wind drove eternal snow between and over high gray rocks, the gods and goddesses were gathering.　In the grayness just before dawn, their tall forms came like smoke out of the gray and smoking wind, to take on solidity and detail. Unperturbed by wind or weather, their garments flapping in the shrieking howl of air, they stood upon the rooftop of the world and waited as their numbers grew. Steadily more powers streaked across the sky, bringing reinforcement.　The shortest of the standing figures was taller than humanity, but from the shortest to tallest, all were indisputably of human shape. The dress of most members of the assem　

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENA STORY FROM THE SAND-HILLSby Hans Christian AndersenTHIS story is from the sand-dunes or sand-hills of Jutland, but itdoes not begin there in the North, but far away in the South, inSpain. The wide sea is the highroad from nation to nation; journeyin thought; then, to sunny Spain. It is warm and beautiful there;the fiery pomegranate flowers peep from among dark laurels; a coolrefreshing breeze from the mountains blows over the orange gardens,over the Moorish halls with their golden cupolas and coloured walls.Children go through the streets in procession with candles and...　

THE DEVOTED FRIENDOne morning the old Water-rat put his head out of his hole. He hadbright beady eyes and stiff grey whiskers and his tail was like along bit of black india-rubber. The little ducks were swimmingabout in the pond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, andtheir mother, who was pure white with real red legs, was trying toteach them how to stand on their heads in the water."You will never be in the best society unless you can stand on yourheads," she kept saying to them; and every now and then she showedthem how it was done. But the little ducks paid no attention toher. They were so young that they did not know what an advantage...　

THE ENVIOUS NEIGHBOURLong, long ago an old couple lived in a village, and, as they hadno children to love and care for, they gave all their affectionto a little dog. He was a pretty little creature, and instead ofgrowing spoilt and disagreeable at not getting everything hewanted, as even children will do sometimes, the dog was gratefulto them for their kindness, and never left their side, whetherthey were in the house or out of it.One day the old man was working in his garden, with his dog, asusual, close by. The morning was hot, and at last he put downhis spade and wiped his wet forehead, noticing, as he did so,that the animal was snuffling and scratching at a spot a little...　

The Heir of Redclyffeby Charlotte M. YoungeCHAPTER 1In such pursuits if wisdom lies,Who, Laura, can thy taste despise?GAYThe drawing-room of Hollywell House was one of the favoured apartments,where a peculiar air of home seems to reside, whether seen in themiddle of summer, all its large windows open to the garden, or, as whenour story commences, its bright fire and stands of fragrant green-houseplants contrasted with the wintry fog and leafless trees of November.There were two persons in the rooma young lady, who sat drawing atthe round table, and a youth, lying on a couch near the fire,...　

　　 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　

　Chapter one　　He had been walking the dirty streets since twilight first began to gather. The pain streamed like liquid fire through every cell of his body - but he locked it away in a corner of his mind, ignored it, and walked.　There was little to please the eye in his surroundings, and he paid scant attention to them. He was on a small poor unimportant planet whose very name, Coranex, meant nothing to him. But around the spaceport clustered a drab, seedy town, which was a well-known stopover on the main space lanes. It attracted freightermen, traders, wandering technicians, space drifters of every sort. Those were the people he was looking for. Those were the people most likely to pick up