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IT was sheep-shearing time in Southern California, but sheep-shearing was late at the Senora Moreno's. The Fates had seemed to combine to put it off. In the first place, Felipe Moreno had been ill. He was the Senora's eldest son, and since his father's death had been at the head of his mother's house. Without him, nothing could be done on the ranch, the Senora thought. It had been...
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INTRODUCTION The two volumes here published contain but a small selection from the numerous writings of Acton on a variety of topics, which are to be found scattered through many periodicals of the last half-century. The result here displayed is therefore not complete. A further selection of nearly equal quantity might be made, and still much that is valuable in Acton's work would remain buried....
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by:
Jules Verne
Chapter 1 If I speak of myself in this story, it is because I have been deeply involved in its startling events, events doubtless among the most extraordinary which this twentieth century will witness. Sometimes I even ask myself if all this has really happened, if its pictures dwell in truth in my memory, and not merely in my imagination. In my position as head inspector in the federal police...
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by:
Various
THE The first Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd.No sooner does a Maid arrive to Years,And she the Pleasures of Conjunction hears,But strait her Maidenhead a Tip-toe runs,To get her like, in Daughters or in Sons;Upon some jolly Lad she casts her Eye,And with some am'rous Gestures by the by;She gives him great Encouragement to takeHis fill of Love, and swears that for his sakeShe soon shall Die;...
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by:
James McKimmey
June 19, 1978. Celebrity day. The city stretched. Empty streets glistened from the bath of a water truck. Dew-wet grass winked at the fresh peeping sun, like millions of shimmering diamonds. A bird chirped. Another. The city yawned. Rows of houses lay like square ivory beads on patches of green felt. A boy drove his bicycle down the middle of an elm-bordered avenue, whistling loudly, while tightly...
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by:
Francis Thompson
SIGHT AND INSIGHT. 'Wisdom is easily seen by them that love her, and is foundby them that seek her.To think therefore upon her is perfect understanding.' WISDOM, vi. I Secret was the garden;Set i' the pathless aweWhere no star its breath can draw.Life, that is its warden,Sits behind the fosse of death. Mine eyes saw not,and I saw. II It was a mazeful wonder;Thrice three times it was...
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by:
Dom
NATURAE by DOM ARBITER: That which is swiftest may speak first . LIGHTNING: My tardy twin Thunder , resent me not for my swiftness . Bear with me patiently . I was made to streak . Seen as jagged slender strands , flashing boorishly . A snippet of intensity . Tarry for a twinkling , then I?ll away unlike the sun who burns through the life of day . My bolts set afire inconspicuous shrubs of lowlands and...
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by:
F. Gillett
A TERRIBLE ADVENTURE WITH HYENAS There are many mighty hunters, and most of them can tell of many very thrilling adventures personally undergone with wild beasts; but probably none of them ever went through an experience equalling that which Arthur Spencer, the famous trapper, suffered in the wilds of Africa. As the right-hand man of Carl Hagenbach, the great Hamburg dealer in wild animals, for whom...
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BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON I Björnstjerne Björnson is the first Norwegian poet who can in any sense be called national. The national genius, with its limitations as well as its virtues, has found its living embodiment in him. Whenever he opens his mouth it is as if the nation itself were speaking. If he writes a little song, hardly a year elapses before its phrases have passed into the common speech of...
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PART I. The Arrow and the Song. "The Arrow and the Song," by Longfellow (1807-82), is placed first in this volume out of respect to a little girl of six years who used to love to recite it to me. She knew many poems, but this was her favourite.I shot an arrow into the air,It fell to earth, I knew not where;For, so swiftly it flew, the sightCould not follow it in its flight.I breathed a song...
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