The Nature Fakerby Richard Harding DavisRichard Herrick was a young man with a gentle disposition, muchmoney, and no sense of humor. His object in life was to marry MissCatherweight. For three years she had tried to persuade him thiscould not be, and finally, in order to convince him, married someone else. When the woman he loves marries another man, the rejectedone is popularly supposed to take to drink or to foreign travel.Statistics show that, instead, he instantly falls in love with thebest friend of the girl who refused him. But, as Herrick trulyloved Miss Catherweight, he could not worship any other woman, andso he became a lover of nature. Nature, he assured his men friends,...　

A Voyage to Abyssiniaby Father Jerome Lobotranslated from the French by Samuel Johnson.INTRODUCTION by Henry Morley, Editor of the 1887 editionJeronimo Lobo was born in Lisbon in the year 1593. He entered the Order of the Jesuits at the age of sixteen. After passing through the studies by which Jesuits were trained for missionary work, which included special attention to the arts of speaking and writing, Father Lobo was sent as a missionary to India at the age of twenty- eight, in the year 1621. He reached Goa, as his book tells, in 1622, and was in 1624, at the age of thirty-one, told off as one of the missionaries to be employed in the conversion of the Abyssinians. They were to be co　

AMY FOSTERby Joseph ConradKennedy is a country doctor, and lives in Cole-brook, on the shores of Eastbay. The highground rising abruptly behind the red roofs of thelittle town crowds the quaint High Street againstthe wall which defends it from the sea. Beyondthe sea-wall there curves for miles in a vast andregular sweep the barren beach of shingle, with thevillage of Brenzett standing out darkly across thewater, a spire in a clump of trees; and still furtherout the perpendicular column of a lighthouse, look-ing in the distance no bigger than a lead pencil,...　

THERE was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had beenwandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning;but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early)the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and arain so penetrating, that further outdoor exercise was now out ofthe question.I was glad of it: I never liked long walks, especially on chillyafternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight,with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidingsof Bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of myphysical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed.The said Eliza, John, and Georgiana were now 　

THE VISION SPLENDIDTHE VISIONSPLENDIDWilliam MacLeod Raine1- Page 2-THE VISION SPLENDIDCHAPTER 1Of all the remote streams of influence that pour both before and afterbirth into the channel of our being, what an insignificant fewand theseonly the more obviousare traceable at all. We swim in a sea ofenvironment and heredity, are tossed hither and thither by we know notwhat cross currents of Fate, are tugged at by a thousand eddies of whichwe never dream. The sum of it all makes Life, of which we know so little...　

The Call of the Canyonby Zane GreyCHAPTER IWhat subtle strange message had come to her out of the West? Carley Burch laid the letter in her lap and gazed dreamily through the window.It was a day typical of early April in New York, rather cold and gray, with steely sunlight. Spring breathed in the air, but the women passing along Fifty-seventh Street wore furs and wraps. She heard the distant clatter of an L train and then the hum of a motor car. A hurdy-gurdy jarred into the interval of quiet."Glenn has been gone over a year," she mused, "three months over a year and of all his strange letters this seems the strangest yet."She lived again, for the thousandth time, the last moments she had s　

SHERLOCK HOLMESTHE ADVENTURE OF THE MISSING THREE-QUARTERby Sir Arthur Conan DoyleWe were fairly accustomed to receive weird telegrams at BakerStreet, but I have a particular recollection of one which reached uson a gloomy February morning, some seven or eight years ago, andgave Mr. Sherlock Holmes a puzzled quarter of an hour. It wasaddressed to him, and ran thus:Please await me. Terrible misfortune. Right wing three-quartermissing, indispensable to-morrow.OVERTON."Strand postmark, and dispatched ten thirty-six," said Holmes,...　

Minna von Barnhelmby Gotthold Ephraim LessingTranslated By Ernest BellINTRODUCTORY NOTEGotthold Ephraim Lessing was born at Kamenz, Germany, January 22, 1729, the son of a Lutheran minister. He was educated at Meissen and Leipzic, and began writing for the stage before he was twenty. In 1748 he went to Berlin, where he met Voltaire and for a time was powerfully influenced by him. The most important product of this period was his tragedy of "Miss Sara Samson," a modern version of the story of Medea, which began the vogue of the sentimental middle-class play in Germany. After a second sojourn in Leipzic (1755-1758), during which he wrote criticism, lyrics, and fables, Lessin　

MOTHER HOLLEONCE upon a time there was a widow who had two daughters;one of them was pretty and clever, and the other ugly andlazy. But as the ugly one was her own daughter, she liked her farthe best of the two, and the pretty one had to do all the work of thehouse, and was in fact the regular maid of all work. Every day shehad to sit by a well on the high road, and spin till her fingers wereso sore that they often bled. One day some drops of blood fell onher spindle, so she dipped it into the well meaning to wash it, but, asluck would have it, it dropped from her hand and fell right in. Sheran weeping to her stepmother, and told her what had happened,...　

HIS DOGHIS DOGBy ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE 19221- Page 2-HIS DOGCHAPTER I. The DerelictLink Ferris was a fighter. Not by nature, nor by choice, but to keepalive.His battleground covered an area of forty acresbroken, scrubby,uncertain side-hill acres, at that. In brief, a worked-out farm among themountain slopes of the North Jersey hinterland; six miles from the nearest...　

Mary Stuartby Alexandre Dumas, PereCHAPTER ISome royal names are predestined to misfortune: in France, there isthe name "Henry". Henry I was poisoned, Henry II was killed in atournament, Henry III and Henry IV were assassinated. As to Henry V,for whom the past is so fatal already, God alone knows what thefuture has in store for him.In Scotland, the unlucky name is "Stuart". Robert I, founder of therace, died at twenty-eight of a lingering illness. Robert II, themost fortunate of the family, was obliged to pass a part of his life,not merely in retirement, but also in the dark, on account ofinflammation of the eyes, which made them blood-red. Robert III...　

IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODSIN THE CARQUINEZWOODSby Bret Harte1- Page 2-IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODSCHAPTER I.The sun was going down on the Carquinez Woods. The few shaftsof sunlight that had pierced their pillared gloom were lost in unfathomabledepths, or splintered their ineffectual lances on the enormous trunks of theredwoods. For a time the dull red of their vast columns, and the dull redof their cast-off bark which matted the echoless aisles, still seemed to hold...