Options,by O. HenryCONTENTS"The Rose of Dixie"The Third IngredientThe Hiding of Black BillSchools and SchoolsThimble, ThimbleSupply and DemandBuried TreasureTo Him Who WaitsHe Also ServesThe Moment of VictoryThe Head-HunterNo StoryThe Higher PragmatismBest-SellerRus in UrbeA Poor RuleOPTIONS"THE ROSE OF DIXIE"When The Rose of Dixie magazine was started by a stock company in Toombs City, Georgia, there was never but one candidate for its chief editorial position in the minds of its owners. Col. Aquila Telfair was the man for the place. By all the rights of learning, family, reputation, and Southern traditions, he was its foreordained, fit, and logical editor. So, a committee of the 　

AFTER THE DANCE"AND you say that a man cannot, of himself,understand what is good and evil; that it is allenvironment, that the environment swamps theman. But I believe it is all chance. Take myown case . . ."Thus spoke our excellent friend, Ivan Vasilie-vich, after a conversation between us on the impos-sibility of improving individual character withouta change of the conditions under which men live.Nobody had actually said that one could not ofoneself understand good and evil; but it was ahabit of Ivan Vasilievich to answer in this way thethoughts aroused in his own mind by conversation,and to illustrate those thoughts by relating inci-dents in his own life. He often quite forgot the..　

Forty Centuries of Inkby David N. CarvalhoORA CHRONOLOGICAL NARRATIVE CONCERNINGINK AND ITS BACKGROUNDSINTRODUCING INCIDENTAL OBSERVATIONS ANDDEDUCTIONS, PARALLELS OF TIME AND COLORPHENOMENA, BIBLIOGRAPHY, CHEMISTRY,POETICAL EFFUSIONS, CITATIONS,ANECDOTES AND CURIOSA TOGETHER WITHSOME EVIDENCE RESPECTING THEEVANESCENT CHARACTER OFMOST INKS OF TO-DAY ANDAN EPITOME OF CHEMICO-LEGAL INK.BYDAVID N. CARVALHOPREFACE.The unfortunate conditions surrounding the almostuniversal use of the oddly named commercial and withfew exceptions record inks, and the so-called modern...　

The Merry Adventures of Robin Hoodby Howard PylePREFACEFROM THE AUTHOR TO THE READERYou who so plod amid serious things that you feel it shame to give yourself up even for a few short moments to mirth and joyousness in the land of Fancy; you who think that life hath nought to do with innocent laughter that can harm no one; these pages are not for you. Clap to the leaves and go no farther than this, for I tell you plainly that if you go farther you will be scandalized by seeing good, sober folks of real history so frisk and caper in gay colors and motley that you would not know them but for the names tagged to them. Here is a stout, lusty fellow with a quick temper, yet none so ill for all t　

Adventure XIThe Final ProblemIt is with a heavy heart that I take up my pen towrite these the last words in which I shall everrecord the singular gifts by which my friend Mr.Sherlock Holmes was distinguished. In an incoherentand, as I deeply feel, an entirely inadequate fashion,I have endeavored to give some account of my strangeexperiences in his company from the chance which firstbrought us together at the period of the "Study inScarlet," up to the time of his interference in thematter of the "Naval Treaty"and interference whichhad the unquestionable effect of preventing a seriousinternational complication. It was my intention to...　

THE DORE LECTURES ON MENTAL SCIENCETHE DORE LECTURESON MENTAL SCIENCEby Thomas Troward1- Page 2-THE DORE LECTURES ON MENTAL SCIENCEENTERING INTO THE SPIRIT OF IT INDIVIDUALITY THENEW THOUGHT AND THE NEW ORDER THE LIPS OF THE SPIRITALPHA AND OMEGA THE CREATIVE POWER OF THOUGHTTHE GREAT AFFIRMATIVE CHRIST THE FULFILLING OF THELAW THE STORY OF EDEN THE WORSHIP OF ISHI THE...　

Adventureby Jack LondonCHAPTER ISOMETHING TO BE DONEHe was a very sick white man. He rode pick-a-back on a woolly- headed, black-skinned savage, the lobes of whose ears had been pierced and stretched until one had torn out, while the other carried a circular block of carved wood three inches in diameter. The torn ear had been pierced again, but this time not so ambitiously, for the hole accommodated no more than a short clay pipe. The man-horse was greasy and dirty, and naked save for an exceedingly narrow and dirty loin-cloth; but the white man clung to him closely and desperately. At times, from weakness, his head drooped and rested on the woolly pate. At other times he lifted his hea　

Three Dialogues Between Hylas and PhilonousGeorge Berkeley1713THREE DIALOGUESBetweenHYLAS AND PHILONOUSThe Design of which is Plainly to Demonstrate the Reality andPerfection ofHUMAN KNOWLEDGEThe Incorporeal Nature of the...　

Once upon a time in the middle of winter, when the flakes ofsnow were falling like feathers from the sky, a queen sat ata window sewing, and the frame of the window was made of blackebony. And whilst she was sewing and looking out of the windowat the snow, she pricked her finger with the needle, and threedrops of blood fell upon the snow. And the red looked prettyupon the white snow, and she thought to herself, would that I hada child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as thewood of the window-frame.Soon after that she had a little daughter, who was as white assnow, and as red as blood, and her hair was as black as ebony,and she was therefore called little snow-white. And wh　

360 BCPHAEDRUSby Platotranslated by Benjamin JowettPHAEDRUSPERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: SOCRATES; PHAEDRUS. Scene: Under aplane-tree, by the banks of the Ilissus.Socrates. My dear Phaedrus, whence come you, and whither are yougoing?Phaedrus. I come from Lysias the son of Cephalus, and I am goingto take a walk outside the wall, for I have been sitting with himthe whole morning; and our common friend Acumenus tells me that itis much more refreshing to walk in the open air than to be shut up...　

Part 3When the buriers came up to him they soon found he was neither aperson infected and desperate, as I have observed above, or a persondistempered -in mind, but one oppressed with a dreadful weight ofgrief indeed, having his wife and several of his children all in the cartthat was just come in with him, and he followed in an agony andexcess of sorrow. He mourned heartily, as it was easy to see, but witha kind of masculine grief that could not give itself vent by tears; andcalmly defying the buriers to let him alone, said he would only see thebodies thrown in and go away, so they left importuning him. But nosooner was the cart turned round and the bodies shot into the pit...　

STORIESSTORIESBy English Authors in Germany1- Page 2-STORIESTHE BIRD ON ITS JOURNEYBY BEATRICE HARRADENIt was about four in the afternoon when a young girl came into thesalon of the little hotel at C in Switzerland, and drew her chair up to thefire."You are soaked through," said an elderly lady, who was herself tryingto get roasted. "You ought to lose no time in changing your clothes.""I have not anything to change," said the young girl, laughing. "Oh, I...