Purchase one of 1st World Library's Classic Books and help support our free internet library of downloadable eBooks. 1st World Library-Literary Society is a non-profit educational organization. Visit us online at www.1stWorldLibrary.ORG - - Mrs Warren's Profession has been performed at last, after a delay of only eight years; and I have once more shared with Ibsen the triumphant amusement of startling all but the strongest-headed of the London theatre critics clean out of the practice of their profession. No author who has ever known the exultation of sending the Press into an hysterical tumult of protest, of moral panic, of involuntary and frantic confession of sin, of a horror of conscience in which the power of distinguishing between the work of art on the stage and the real life of the spectator is confused and overwhelmed, will ever care for the stereotyped compliments which every successful farce or melodrama elicits from the newspapers. Give me that critic who rushed from my play to declare furiously that Sir George Crofts ought to be kicked. What a triumph for the actor, thus to reduce a jaded London journalist to the condition of the simple sailor in the Wapping gallery, who shouts execrations at Iago and warnings to Othello not to believe him But dearer still than such simplicity is that sense of the sudden earthquake shock to the foundations of morality which sends a pallid crowd of critics into the street shrieking that the pillars of society are cracking and the ruin of the State is at hand. Even the Ibsen champions of ten years ago remonstrate with me just as the veterans of those brave days remonstrated with them. Mr Grein, the hardy iconoclast who first launched my plays on the stage alongside Ghosts and The Wild Duck, exclaimed that I have shattered his ideals. Actually his ideals What would Dr Relling say? And Mr William Archer himself disowns me because I "cannot touch pitch without wallowing in it." Truly my play must be more needed than I knew; and yet I thought I knew how little the others know.

The Principles of Teaching represents what I have learned about the art of teaching over the course of my thirty year career. The principles I include in the book are meant to be both a practical guide and an inspiration to teachers who are just entering the profession. I also believe teachers at any stage of their career may find this book useful.

In this accomplished book, Mary Kay Rummel spins words into mysticism and magic. "Not to be ordinary," she was drawn into the convent where she was forbidden to read fiction because the Superior didn't like it. In "Patterns of Obedience," she writes that she was able to leave when "words whispered in that wind/telling her to go forth and read, to never ask again." Set free, she read and wrote and traveled, visiting early Irish history and myth. Throughout her book, bells chime in celebration as her words become exquisite lyric poems. -Jill Breckenridge, Poet, The Gravity of Flesh If you delight in plunging into an environment's sensual and emotional landscape; if you thrill to poetry that seduces and resonates; if you crave fresh language, intelligence, revelation and uncompromising risk, then What's Left Is The Singing-this miraculous confessional, this collection with its complexity of conflict and resolution, this sound-feast-will satisfy to the bone. Rummel's work allows us to feel how. . . light slips/through fingers into every fold of sky. -Ellen Reich, Poet, The Gynecic Papers When one reads the poems of Mary Kay Rummel, one expects a certain precision of language, a vigilant detail, a concentrated lyric whisper that elevates the ordinary life's ordinary aspirations. On these counts, What's Left Is The Singing does not disappoint. But these poems are also transformative. Here we find beauty that resists adoration, caution that armors raised fists, and belief that survives religion. Here we find metaphors for life's passion in the scapes of sand and tides and endless stars that shine through us. And if we don't find distraction from our ignorance, we do find elegant language touched with music and some blessings and a few reasons to go on. This is exactly what we ask from our poetry. -David Oliveira, Poet, A Little Travel Story; Editor, Mille Grazie Press

The Seraphim Blueprint introduces an advanced spiritual system that has been dormant for thousands of years. In 1994 a high Angel, a Seraph, began initiating Ruth Rendely into this long-forgotten teaching. She shares the amazing experience of that first of many meetings, when he tells her that she is to bring out an ancient healing modality that existed in Atlantean times. The Angel then proves the power of the system by transmitting healing energies into her in six-minute installations. These energies sing through her body, fixing minor pains, and leaving her exhilirated. He tells her that these energies are now available to be accessed effortlessly by anyone for their own benefit or the healing of others. RUTH RENDELY Gifted with the Seraphim Blueprint, spiritual teacher, intuitive healer, authority on angels, she has taught thousands how to explore their own divinity. ACCLAIM FOR SERAPHIM BLUEPRINT I enthusiastically endorse this book. It is not just a book, it is a journey into life. Through my experience in medicine, I have come to realize that there is more to life than contemporary science can explain, and that is the human soul. Ms. Ruth Rendely has proven this to be right. She has explained her life journey in a way that all of us can relate to, and, more importantly, through her knowledge and experience, she has given hope, belief, and love. I am truly impressed with her God-given talent, and her way to express it so that we all can understand and appreciate it. -Adrian, Bocirnea, M.D. "I'm thrilled to see that Ruth Rendely is helping people to make contact, and to work more intimately, with their companion angels. Nothing could be more important at this key point in the evolution of both species. When humanity moves, individual by individual, to fulfill its true destiny, it will be with our angels at our sides. This is an ancient promise and it is coming about in our lifetimes. May those with ears, hear." -Timothy Wyllie, co-author Ask Your Angels This book is a simple story of how one woman opened to the angels and then began to share what she learned with others. Slowly, as you read her tale, you will find shifts happening to you as well. Subtle is the technology of angels, not like knives or guns or bombs. It's a soft technology, and yet it's a powerful one. -Andrew Ramer, co-author Ask Your Angels From the Foreword Seraphim Blueprint is a fascinating account of one woman's journey as she develops the power of healing by explicitly following the guidance of angels. Rendely provides a "must-read" book for anyone who believes in the power of angels to help guide us into becoming our best selves. -Randy Peyser, author The Mind, Body, Spirit Speaker's Guid

In 1974, a group of teenage Peruvians became part of a facinating journey through the remote mystical places of Peru. Through the narrative of Sixto Paz Wells, the reader is confronted with one of the most complex cases of ET contact ever documented. A rare case which has astounded journalists, from nearly every country, as they defiantly witnessed the undeniable physical presence of an advanced civilization. The invitation stands as a document so provocative and upsetting to our routine lives, that the author's work has been surpresssed by organized agencies trying to destroy it. The question is: Why? Its pages are filled with the messages of hope, renewal and self-actualization. The humility of the author's revelations gives us the powerful tool to understand the great glory of being human. It complels us to share that unique glory with our brothers and sisters from beyond our planet and perhaps beyond time and space as we know it. After THE INVITATION, you will never see the world the same way.

The Yoga Sutra is the great text on Yoga, cognized in ancient India by Maharishi Patanjali. Yoga means "union," and the Yoga Sutra describes the experience of unity, the complete settling of the activity of the mind. In 195 short sutras, this text illuminates the teaching of yoga and meditation, and gives a profound understanding of life in transcendence.

BENITA: prey for him is the true story of bright, vivacious Benita Kane and the Catholic priest who lured her from childhood into a disastrous, twenty-year entanglement that changed the course of her life. What happened to this fatherless girl in the hierarchical, patriarchal world of Dubuque, Iowa during the 40's, 50's and 60's is not simply one more tale of clerical sexual abuse, but rather an astounding, maddening, compelling account of what it was like to grow up in a family, community and culture so dominated by the Catholic church that no one could recognize the ominous events developing around them. As Benita's friend and classmate from second-grade through college, Virginia Tranel writes from the unique stance of both participant and observer.

The Yoga Sutra is the great text on Yoga, cognized in ancient India by Maharishi Patanjali. Yoga means "union," and the Yoga Sutra describes the experience of unity, the complete settling of the activity of the mind. In 195 short sutras, this text illuminates the teaching of yoga and meditation, and gives a profound understanding of life in transcendence.

Steven Schneider is an extraordinary poet. Each of the poems in this collection is crafted with inspiration, dedication and a skill that exemplifies the best of contemporary poetry. Unexpected Guests is a powerful and beautifully written book that explores the meaning of faith, remembrance and creativity. -Marjorie Agosin, author of Dear Anne Frank and Always from Somewhere Else Is it any coincidence that in Unexpected Guests Steven Schneider-whose surname means "tailor"-dresses his poems to fit a variety of roles: husband, father, historian, traveler, spiritual seeker, aesthete, lover of the natural world? Wherever he wanders-be it Nebraska prairie, Texas-Mexico border, or Biblical times-he relates his desire to be rooted, truly at home, employing a voice that's plain-spoken and calm, a welcoming voice that gets out of the way of its subjects, so as to ease our way into them. -Thomas Centolella, author of Terra Firma and Lights and Mysteries Steven Schneider's poetry is deeply informed by Jewish philosophy, history and art and is also deeply multicultural as his speaker interacts and learns from a wide range of representatives from other cultures. Through the cultural cross-currents and Biblical resonances, he writes poetry that encompasses ancient and modern history and culture in a deeply personal idiom. In one poem, the author has a chance meeting on the prairie with a group of Hasidic Jews. In another, he whimsically connects his experience of Nebraska to ultra-urbane stylings of Frank O'Hara. It is an outstanding collection of poetry, one that readers will both learn from and enjoy. -Daniel Morris, author of Bryce Passage and Remarkable Modernisms Unexpected Guests is a collection of poems notable for the quiet intensity of its language as well as its sweeping engagement with place and history. I am deeply engaged by the voice throughout this collection, at once playful and serious, attuned to the world and its occasions of wonder and loss, as well as to Schneider's desire for something more enduring than the world's ephemera. Unexpected Guests is full of clear, urgent poems, sensitive to the threats of violence and terror that characterize our times as well as an abiding sense of wonder at the ordinary miracles in the natural world. -Daniel Tobin, author of The Narrows and Where the World Is Made

He awoke in the dark. His awakening was simple, easy, without movement save for the eyes that opened and made him aware of darkness. Unlike most, who must feel and grope and listen to, and contact with, the world about them, he knew himself on the moment of awakening, instantly identifying himself in time and place and personality. After the lapsed hours of sleep he took up, without effort, the interrupted tale of his days. He knew himself to be Dick Forrest, the master of broad acres, who had fallen asleep hours before after drowsily putting a match between the pages of "Road Town" and pressing off the electric reading lamp. Near at hand there was the ripple and gurgle of some sleepy fountain. From far off, so faint and far that only a keen ear could catch, he heard a sound that made him smile with pleasure. He knew it for the distant, throaty bawl of King Polo-King Polo, his champion Short Horn bull, thrice Grand Champion also of all bulls at Sacramento at the California State Fairs. The smile was slow in easing from Dick Forrest's face, for he dwelt a moment on the new triumphs he had destined that year for King Polo on the Eastern livestock circuits.

My life is a lovely story, happy and full of incident. If, when I was a boy, and went forth into the world poor and friendless, a good fairy had met me and said, "Choose now thy own course through life, and the object for which thou wilt strive, and then, according to the development of thy mind, and as reason requires, I will guide and defend thee to its attainment," my fate could not, even then, have been directed more happily, more prudently, or better. The history of my life will say to the world what it says to me-There is a loving God, who directs all things for the best. My native land, Denmark, is a poetical land, full of popular traditions, old songs, and an eventful history, which has become bound up with that of Sweden and Norway. The Danish islands are possessed of beautiful beech woods, and corn and clover fields: they resemble gardens on a great scale. Upon one of these green islands, Funen, stands Odense, the place of my birth. Odense is called after the pagan god Odin, who, as tradition states, lived here: this place is the capital of the province, and lies twenty-two Danish miles from Copenhagen.

I was riding along one autumn day through a certain wooded portion of New York State, when I came suddenly upon an old stone house in which the marks of age were in such startling contrast to its unfinished condition that I involun-tarily stopped my horse and took a long survey of the lonesome structure. Embowered in a forest which had so grown in thickness and height since the erection of this building that the boughs of some of the tallest trees almost met across its decayed roof, it presented even at first view an appearance of picturesque solitude almost approaching to desolation. But when my eye had time to note that the moss was clinging to eaves from under which the scaffolding had never been taken, and that of the ten large windows in the blackened front of the house only two had ever been furnished with frames, the awe of some tragic mystery began to creep over me, and I sat and wondered at the sight till my increasing interest compelled me to alight and take a nearer view of the place.

Parentage of Peter-His father's double marriage-Death of his father-The princesses-Their places of seclusion-Theodore and John-Sophia uneasy in the convent-Her request-Her probable motives-Her success-Increase of her influence-Jealousies-Parties formed-The imperial guards-Their character and influence-Dangers-Sophia and the soldiers-Sophia's continued success-Death of Theodore-Peter proclaimed-Plots formed by Sophia-Revolution-Means of exciting the people-Poisoning-Effect of the stories that were circulating-Peter and his mother-The Monastery of the Trinity-Natalia's flight-Narrow escape of Peter-Commotion in the city-Sophia is unsuccessful-Couvansky's schemes-Sophia's attempt to appease the soldiers-No effect produced-Couvansky's views-His plan of a marriage for his son-Indignation of Sophia-A stratagem-Couvansky falls into the snare-Excitement produced by his death-Galitzin-Measures adopted by him-They are successful

For two years it had been notorious in the square that Sam'l Dickie was thinking of courting T'nowhead's Bell, and that if Little Sanders Elshioner (which is the Thrums pronunciation of Alexander Alexander) went in for her, he might prove a formidable riv

In truth the mastery of flying was the work of thousands of men-this man a suggestion and that an experiment, until at last only one vigorous intellectual effort was needed to finish the work. But the inexorable injustice of the popular mind has decided t

Even the coming of an autumn dusk could not subdue the color of this land. Shadows here were not gray or black; they were violet and purple. The crumbling adobe walls were laced by strings of crimson peppers, vivid in the torch and lantern light. It had been this way for days, red and yellow, violet-colors he had hardly been aware existed back in the cool green, silver, gray-brown of Kentucky. So this was Tubacca! The rider shifted his weight in the saddle and gazed about him with watchful interest. Back in '59 this had been a flourishing town, well on its way to prominence in the Southwest. The mines in the hills behind producing wealth, the fact that it was a watering place on two cross-country routes-the one from Tucson down into Sonora of Old Mexico, the other into California-had all fed its growth.

The soft summer wind stirs the redwoods, and Wild-Water ripples sweet cadences over its mossy stones. There are butterflies in the sunshine, and from everywhere arises the drowsy hum of bees. It is so quiet and peaceful, and I sit here, and ponder, and am restless. It is the quiet that makes me restless. It seems unreal. All the world is quiet, but it is the quiet before the storm. I strain my ears, and all my senses, for some betrayal of that impending storm. Oh, that it may not be premature That it may not be premature * * The Second Revolt was largely the work of Ernest Everhard, though he cooperated, of course, with the European leaders. The capture and secret execution of Everhard was the great event of the spring of 1932 A.D. Yet so thoroughly had he prepared for the revolt, that his fellow-conspirators were able, with little confusion or delay, to carry out his plans. It was after Everhard's execution that his wife went to Wake Robin Lodge, a small bungalow in the Sonoma Hills of California.

The world mends. In my younger days people believed in mahogany; some of my readers will remember it-a heavy, shining substance, having a singularly close resemblance to raw liver, exceedingly heavy to move, and esteemed on one or other count the noblest

The Seraphim Blueprint introduces an advanced spiritual system that has been dormant for thousands of years. In 1994 a high Angel, a Seraph, began initiating Ruth Rendely into this long-forgotten teaching. She shares the amazing experience of that first of many meetings, when he tells her that she is to bring out an ancient healing modality that existed in Atlantean times. The Angel then proves the power of the system by transmitting healing energies into her in six-minute installations. These energies sing through her body, fixing minor pains, and leaving her exhilirated. He tells her that these energies are now available to be accessed effortlessly by anyone for their own benefit or the healing of others. RUTH RENDELY Gifted with the Seraphim Blueprint, spiritual teacher, intuitive healer, authority on angels, she has taught thousands how to explore their own divinity. ACCLAIM FOR SERAPHIM BLUEPRINT I enthusiastically endorse this book. It is not just a book, it is a journey into life. Through my experience in medicine, I have come to realize that there is more to life than contemporary science can explain, and that is the human soul. Ms. Ruth Rendely has proven this to be right. She has explained her life journey in a way that all of us can relate to, and, more importantly, through her knowledge and experience, she has given hope, belief, and love. I am truly impressed with her God-given talent, and her way to express it so that we all can understand and appreciate it. -Adrian, Bocirnea, M.D. "I'm thrilled to see that Ruth Rendely is helping people to make contact, and to work more intimately, with their companion angels. Nothing could be more important at this key point in the evolution of both species. When humanity moves, individual by individual, to fulfill its true destiny, it will be with our angels at our sides. This is an ancient promise and it is coming about in our lifetimes. May those with ears, hear." -Timothy Wyllie, co-author Ask Your Angels This book is a simple story of how one woman opened to the angels and then began to share what she learned with others. Slowly, as you read her tale, you will find shifts happening to you as well. Subtle is the technology of angels, not like knives or guns or bombs. It's a soft technology, and yet it's a powerful one. -Andrew Ramer, co-author Ask Your Angels From the Foreword Seraphim Blueprint is a fascinating account of one woman's journey as she develops the power of healing by explicitly following the guidance of angels. Rendely provides a "must-read" book for anyone who believes in the power of angels to help guide us into becoming our best selves. -Randy Peyser, author The Mind, Body, Spirit Speaker's Guid

He 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 head and stared with swimming eyes at the cocoanut palms that reeled and swung in the shimmering heat. He was clad in a thin undershirt and a strip of cotton cloth, that wrapped about his waist and descended to his knees. On his head was a battered Stetson, known to the trade as a Baden-Powell. About his middle was strapped a belt, which carried a large-calibred automatic pistol and several spare clips, loaded and ready for quick work.

San Francisco Bay is so large that often its storms are more disastrous to ocean-going craft than is the ocean itself in its violent moments. The waters of the bay contain all manner of fish, wherefore its surface is ploughed by the keels of all manner of fishing boats manned by all manner of fishermen. To protect the fish from this motley floating population many wise laws have been passed, and there is a fish patrol to see that these laws are enforced. Exciting times are the lot of the fish patrol: in its history more than one dead patrolman has marked defeat, and more often dead fishermen across their illegal nets have marked success.

They ran across the shining sand, the Pacific thundering its long surge at their backs, and when they gained the roadway leaped upon bicycles and dived at faster pace into the green avenues of the park. There were three of them, three boys, in as many bright-colored sweaters, and they "scorched" along the cycle-path as dangerously near the speed-limit as is the custom of boys in bright-colored sweaters to go. They may have exceeded the speed-limit. A mounted park policeman thought so, but was not sure, and contented himself with cautioning them as they flashed by. They acknowledged the warning promptly, and on the next turn of the path as promptly forgot it, which is also a custom of boys in bright-colored sweaters.

There it was The abrupt liberation of sound As he timed it with his watch, Bassett likened it to the trump of an archangel. Walls of cities, he meditated, might well fall down before so vast and compelling a summons. For the thousandth time vainly he tried to analyse the tone-quality of that enormous peal that dominated the land far into the strong-holds of the surrounding tribes. The mountain gorge which was its source rang to the rising tide of it until it brimmed over and flooded earth and sky and air. With the wantonness of a sick man's fancy, he likened it to the mighty cry of some Titan of the Elder World vexed with misery or wrath. Higher and higher it arose, challenging and demanding in such profounds of volume that it seemed intended for ears beyond the narrow confines of the solar system. There was in it, too, the clamour of protest in that there were no ears to hear and comprehend its utterance.

What's the news, Uncle? asked Miss Patricia Doyle, as she entered the cosy breakfast room of a suite of apartments in Willing Square. Even as she spoke she pecked a little kiss on the forehead of the chubby man addressed as "Uncle" - none other, if you please, than the famous and eccentric multi-millionaire known in Wall Street as John Merrick - and sat down to pour the coffee. There was energy in her method of doing this simple duty, an indication of suppressed vitality that conveyed the idea that here was a girl accustomed to action. And she fitted well into the homely scene: short and somewhat "squatty" of form, red-haired, freckle-faced and pug-nosed. Wholesome rather than beautiful was Patsy Doyle, but if you caught a glimpse of her dancing blue eyes you straightway forgot her lesser charms.

Ken Ward had not been at the big university many days before he realized the miserable lot of a freshman. At first he was sorely puzzled. College was so different from what he had expected. At the high school of his home town, which, being the capita