Eben Holden, a Tale of the North Countryby Irving BachellerPREFACEEarly in the last century the hardy wood-choppers began to come west, out of Vermont. They founded their homes in the Adirondack wildernesses and cleared their rough acres with the axe and the charcoal pit. After years of toil in a rigorous climate they left their sons little besides a stumpy farm and a coon-skin overcoat. Far from the centres of life their amusements, their humours, their religion, their folk lore, their views of things had in them the flavour of the timber lands, the simplicity of childhood. Every son was nurtured in the love of honour and of industry, and the hope of sometime being president. It is to be f　

A Confessionby Lev Nikolayevich TolstoyII was baptized and brought up in the Orthodox Christian faith.I was taught it in childhood and throughout my boyhood and youth.But when I abandoned the second course of the university at the ageof eighteen I no longer believed any of the things I had beentaught.Judging by certain memories, I never seriously believed them,but had merely relied on what I was taught and on what wasprofessed by the grown-up people around me, and that reliance wasvery unstable.I remember that before I was eleven a grammar school pupil,...　

ROUND THE RED LAMPROUND THE REDLAMPBy SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE1- Page 2-ROUND THE RED LAMPTHE PREFACE.I quite recognise the force of your objection that an invalid or awoman in weak health would get no good from stories which attempt totreat some features of medical life with a certain amount of realism. Ifyou deal with this life at all, however, and if you are anxious to make yourdoctors something more than marionettes, it is quite essential that you...　

The Plays of W. E. Henley and R. L. StevensonWilliam Ernest Henley and Robert Louis StevensonHenley is best known for this quote from Invictus:"I am the master of my fate,I am the captain of my soul."INVICTUSOut of the night that covers me,Black as the pit from pole to pole,I think whatever gods may befor my unconquerable soul.In the fell clutch of circumstanceI have not winced nor cried aloud.Under the bludgeonings of chanceMy head is bloody, but unbowed.Beyond this place of wrath and tearsLooms but the Horror of the shade,And yet the menace of the yearsFinds and shall find me unafraid.It matters not how strait the gate,...　

MISCELLANEOUS PAPERSMISCELLANEOUSPAPERSBY CHARLES DICKENS- Page 2-MISCELLANEOUS PAPERSTHE AGRICULTURALINTERESTThe present Government, having shown itself to be particularly cleverin its management of Indictments for Conspiracy, cannot do better, wethink (keeping in its administrative eye the pacification of some of its mostinfluential and most unruly supporters), than indict the wholemanufacturing interest of the country for a conspiracy against the...　

The Secret Places of the Heartby H. G. Wells1922CONTENTSChapter1. THE CONSULTATION2. LADY HARDY3. THE DEPARTURE4. AT MAIDENHEAD5. IN THE LAND OF THE FORGOTTEN PEOPLES6. THE ENCOUNTER AT STONEHENGE7. COMPANIONSHIP8. FULL MOON9. THE LAST DAYS OF SIR RICHMOND HARDYTHE SECRET PLACES OF THE HEARTCHAPTER THE FIRSTSection 1The maid was a young woman of great natural calmness; she was accustomed to let in visitors who had this air of being annoyed and finding one umbrella too numerous for them. It mattered nothing to her that the gentleman was asking for Dr. Martineau as if he was asking for something with an unpleasant taste. Almost imperceptibly she relieved him of his umbrella and juggled his ha　

The Research Magnificentby H. G. WellsCONTENTSTHE PRELUDEON FEAR AND ARISTOCRACYTHE STORYI. THE BOY GROWS UPII. THE YOUNG MAN ABOUT TOWNIII. AMANDAIV. THE SPIRITED HONEYMOONV. THE ASSIZE OF JEALOUSYVI. THE NEW HAROUN AL RASCHIDTHE RESEARCH MAGNIFICENTTHE PRELUDEON FEAR AND ARISTOCRACY1 The story of William Porphyry Benham is the story of a man who was led into adventure by an idea. It was an idea that took possession of his imagination quite early in life, it grew with him and changed with him, it interwove at last completely with his being. His story is its story. It was traceably germinating in the schoolboy; it was manifestly present in his mind at the very last moment of his ad　

Up From Slavery: An Autobiographyby Booker T. WashingtonUp From Slavery: An Autobiography by Booker T. WashingtonThis volume is dedicated to my Wife Margaret James Washington And to my Brother John H. Washington Whose patience, fidelity, and hard work have gone far to make the work at Tuskegee successful.PrefaceThis volume is the outgrowth of a series of articles, dealing with incidents in my life, which were published consecutively in the Outlook. While they were appearing in that magazine I was constantly surprised at the number of requests which came to me from all parts of the country, asking that the articles be permanently preserved in book form. I am most grateful to the Outlook for 　

THE GREAT CONTROVERSYby ELLEN G. WHITE(iii)PREFACETHIS BOOK, READER, IS NOT PUBLISHED TO TELL US THAT THERE IS SIN AND WOE ANDMISERY IN THIS WORLD. WE KNOW IT ALL TOO WELL. THIS BOOK IS NOT PUBLISHED TOTELL US THAT THERE IS AN IRRECONCILABLE CONTROVERSY BETWEEN DARKNESS ANDLIGHT, SIN AND RIGHTEOUSNESS, WRONG AND RIGHT, DEATH AND LIFE. IN OUR HEARTOF HEARTS WE KNOW IT, AND KNOW THAT WE ARE PARTICIPATORS, ACTORS, IN THECONFLICT.BUT TO EVERY ONE OF US COMES AT TIMES A LONGING TO KNOW MORE OF THE GREATCONTROVERSY. HOW DID THE CONTROVERSY BEGIN? OR WAS IT ALWAYS HERE? WHAT...　

Unconscious Comediansby Honore de BalzacTranslated by Katharine Prescott WormeleyDEDICATIONTo Monsieur le Comte Jules de Castellane.UNCONSCIOUS COMEDIANSLeon de Lora, our celebrated landscape painter, belongs to one of thenoblest families of the Roussillon (Spanish originally) which,although distinguished for the antiquity of its race, has been doomedfor a century to the proverbial poverty of hidalgos. Coming,light-footed, to Paris from the department of the Eastern Pyrenees,with the sum of eleven francs in his pocket for all viaticum, he hadin some degree forgotten the miseries and privations of his childhood...　

East Lynneby Mrs. Henry WoodCHAPTER I.THE LADY ISABEL.In an easy-chair of the spacious and handsome library of his town- house, sat William, Earl of Mount Severn. His hair was gray, the smoothness of his expansive brow was defaced by premature wrinkles, and his once attractive face bore the pale, unmistakable look of dissipation. One of his feet was cased in folds of linen, as it rested on the soft velvet ottoman, speaking of gout as plainly as any foot ever spoke yet. It would seemto look at the man as he sat there that he had grown old before his time. And so he had. His years were barely nine and forty, yet in all save years, he was an aged man.A noted character had been the Earl of Moun　

A SONG ABOUT MYSELFby John KeatsI.There was a naughty boy,A naughty boy was he,He would not stop at home,He could not quiet be-He tookIn his knapsackA bookFull of vowelsAnd a shirtWith some towels,A slight capFor night cap,A hair brush,Comb ditto,New stockingsFor old ones...