1610-ben, egy borzalmas évet maga m?g?tt hagyva, Fabricius Flóra kénytelen Velencébe utazni.?A ?b?n?s ?r?m?k városába érve egy ismert és az urak által gyakran látogatott házban találja magát.?Vendéglátója nem más, mint a híres kurtizán, megment?jének édesanyja. Velence urai hamarosan versengeni kezdenek az ártatlan lány kegyeiért, ám ? csupán egyetlen férfi után vágyakozik,?Lorenzo Marianit azonban nem k?nny? ?r?kre rabul ejteni.?Flóra úgy d?nt, segít neki egy gyilkosság leleplezésében, noha az áldozatot egy cseppet sem szívlelte.?A szálak a legmagasabb k?r?kbe, a Collegió tagjai k?zé vezetnek, akik k?zül a legfiatalabb consiglieri bármit megadna, hogy a szép magyar lányt a magáénak tudhassa.?Képes lesz-e Flóra ellenállni a gazdagság és a hatalom csábításának??R. Kelényi Angelika, Az ártatlan cím? k?nyve második részében, egy izgalmas, kalandos és romantikus utazásra invitálja az olvasókat a 17. század Velencéjébe.?Ahogy azt már megszokhattuk, a regény t?rténete a hatalom, a vágy, a b?n és a szerelem gyilkos kombinációja, t?rténelmi korba ágyazva.?

Te is szereted, ha lustán elnyújtózhatsz a parton, szikrázik a nap, szemed el?tt a nagy kékség, ?sszecsúszik a víz és az ég, nem szól a telefon és az sem foglalkoztat, mi t?rténik a k?z?sségi oldalakon? ?ppen kikérted a kedvenc koktélodat, koccintasz a szeretteiddel, majd belenyúlsz a strandtáskába és el?veszed azt a k?nyvet, ami elfeledtet veled minden gondot, és a nyaralásod idejére teljes kikapcsolódást ígér. Igen, ez az igazi Holiday-érzés! Fej?s ?va legújabb k?nyvében is gondoskodik arról, hogy vele utazzunk, akár ha otthon, a kedvenc karosszékünkbe ülve vesszük is kezünkbe a k?tetet. Romantika, b?nügyi szál, kaland, utazás, nosztalgia, boldogságkeresés vár ránk - akárcsak az eddigi k?tetekben.? ?s hogy mit?l más a Holiday? Ebben a k?nyvben hosszabb-r?videbb t?rténetekkel szórakoztat a szerz? - mindenki maga d?nti el az olvasási sorrendet, ahogyan a hangulata diktálja. Egy biztos: mire az olvasó a vaskos k?tet utolsó lapjához érkezik, és véget ér a "holiday", t?kéletesen felt?lt?dik - és talán ez lesz élete legmesésebb nyara.

Vajon létezik olyan szerelem, ami felülírja a bosszúvágyat is?Nathan korán árvaságra jutott. Az anyja elhagyta, az apját pedig meg?lték, amiért bosszút esküszik még kisgyerekként. Feln?ve a CIA munkatársa lesz, és beépített ügyn?kként megkapja élete legfontosabb megbízatását: egy családnál kezd dolgozni sof?rként, ahol a családf? a maffia tagja, és mint kés?bb kiderül, Nathan apjának halálához is k?ze van. Egyenesnek t?nik az út a bosszúja kivitelezésében, egyetlen problémát Jessica felbukkanása jelenti, Nathan esküdt ellenségének elviselhetetlen természet?, de ?rjít?en vonzó lánya.Nathannak és Jessicának rengeteg akadályt kell leküzdeniük ahhoz, hogy együtt lehessenek, a sors mégis elválasztja ?ket egymástól.?Minden titkukra fény derül, Nathan elveszíti élete értelmét, a szerelmét és a hitét is. Van innen visszaút??Katie Francoise erotikában és izgalmakban b?velked? regénye Nathan szemsz?géb?l mutatja be az olvasóknak, ahogy a bosszúvágy beteljesedik és végbemegy a továbblépéshez szükséges elengedés is.Választ kapunk arra is, hogy a titkok meddig maradhatnak titkok és, hogy megbocsáthatóak-e a b?n?k.?Az írón? eddig megjelent sikerk?nyvei: Egy igaz szerelem t?rténete és az Utolsó. Esély.

Egy újrakezdés hihetetlen t?rténeteKori élete fordulóponthoz érkezik. Férje és szülei meghalnak, munkahelyét elveszíti, egyedül marad a világban, csak legjobb barátn?jére számíthat. Mindennapjait eddig családja szabályai szerint élte. A tragédia után minden megváltozik k?rül?tte.?Vajon hogy éli meg a hirtelen j?tt függetlenséget?Megtakarított pénzéb?l utazni szeretne, a helyszínt csukott szemmel választja ki a f?ldg?mbre b?kve. Azonban úgy t?nik, férje még a halála után is képes ezt a tervét is meghiúsítani. A lány régi életét maga m?g?tt hagyva munkát vállal egy kanadai farmon. A farm tulajdonosával, a jókép? Christopher Walkerrel, aki egyedül neveli kislányát, hamar k?lcs?n?s vonzalom alakul ki k?z?ttük.Vajon túléli kapcsolatuk a múlt szellemeinek felbukkanását? Van esély újrakezdeni egy tragédiák sokaságával telet?zdelt életet?J. K. Smith humoros jelenetekben és érzelmekben gazdag k?nyve ezekre a kérdésekre keresi a választ, és elvezeti az olvasót egy olyan világba, ahol a család és az ?sszefogás a legfontosabb érték.

***#1 nemzetk?zi bestseller*** ?Letehetetlen, élénk, drámai, túlf?t?tt, megindító, kalandos, briliáns, és még ennél is sokkal t?bb… megéri az utolsó oldalig” – Sky’s Book Corner N?vérháború Alice: Gy?ny?r?, kedves, manipulativ, hazug. Clare: Intelligens, lojális, paranoiás, féltékeny Clare úgy gondolja, Alice egy manipulatív hazudozó, aki el akarja rabolni t?le az életét.Alice úgy gondolja, Claire féltékeny, amiért hosszú id? után újra felbukkant, és a családjukban elfoglalt helye miatt. Egyikük igazat mond. Másikuk egy megszállott ?rült. Két testvér. Egy igazság Sue Fortin páratlanul izgalmas a?pszichológiai thrillereiben soha nem tudhatod mi lesz a k?vetkez? lépés. Nemzetk?zi sikerk?nyvei végre itthon is megjennek.

A Trónok harca tévésorozat alkotójának, producerének és forgatók?nyvírójának, New York Times bestseller, díjnyertes, k?zel negyven országban kiadott regénye. A nácik kegyetlen ostromgy?r?jében verg?d? Leningrádban Lev Benyovot letartóztatják fosztogatásért, és egy cellába kerül Koljával, a jókép? fiatal dezert?rrel. Kivégzés helyett azonban elképeszt? ajánlatot kapnak, hogy megmenthessék az életüket: egy tucat tojást kell keríteniük a Belbiztonság nagy hatalmú ezredesének, leánya lakodalmi tortájához. Mivel a városba már jó ideje nem jut be semmilyen utánpótlás, lakói elképzelhetetlen mértékben nélkül?znek, éheznek. Lev és Kolja nekivág a lehetetlennek – Leningrád kíméletlen poklában, s?t még az ellenséges vonalakon túl is kutatják a felbecsülhetetlen kincset. Ebben a megindító, ugyanakkor mulatságos, egyszerre sziporkázó és hátborzongató regényben a második világháborúban átélt kalandok során egy fiú férfivá érésének ízig-vérig modern t?rténete is kibontakozik el?ttünk. A k?tetet a neves m?fordító, Gy. Horváth László (Gépnarancs, Pi élete, Széthullott birodalom trilógia stb.) ültette át magyar nyelvre. David Benioff a k?nyvek mellett forgatók?nyveket ír. Els? regényéb?l, Az utolsó éjjelb?l Spike Lee rendezett emlékezetes filmet Edward Norton f?szereplésével. A Tolvajok tele a második és eddig utolsó regénye, mert a megjelenése után Benioff egy olyan projektbe fogott bele, ami mellett nincs ideje másra: ? az utóbbi évek egyik legsikeresebb tévésorozatának, a Trónok harcának alkotója, producere és forgatók?nyvírója. A feleségével, Amanda Peet színészn?vel és lányukkal Los Angelesben él.

A Riyria krónikák eredetileg magánkiadásban jelent meg, majd felfigyelt rá az Orbit, a világ egyik legjelent?sebb fantasy-sci-fi kiadója, és 2011 végén saját kiadásban kezdte el kiadni a regényeket, amelyek villámgyorsan az utóbbi évek legsikeresebb új fantasy sorozatává váltak. Legalább 15 országba eladták már a kiadás jogait, és ez a szám folyamatosan b?vül. B?B FEJ?RE KER?L A KORONA. AZ IGAZI ?R?K?S REJTVE MARAD. EGY KALANDOR TITKA FELFORGATHAT MINDENT. Háború fenyegeti Melengárt, és h?seink újabb kockázatos megbízást kapnak. Ezúttal sz?vetséget kell k?tniük a nemzetelv?ek csapataival, akik délen a birodalmi elnyomók ellen küzdenek. A Nefronita Birodalom megállíthatatlanul terjeszkedik, és Royce gyanúja egyre er?sebb, hogy Ezrahaddon, a mágus eszk?zként használja ?t és társát saját, kifürkészhetetlen céljaihoz. Ha ki akarja deríteni az igazságot, meg kell fejtenie Hadrian titkát. ?m felfedezése, k?nnyen véget vethet a barátságuknak és kettészakíthatja a Riyriát. A Birodalom születik a magával ragadó Riyria-krónikák harmadik k?tete. A hatk?tetes sorozatot írója egyetlen, eposzi magaslatokra t?r? t?rténetként alkotta meg, amit kül?n epizódokra bontott. A cselekményszálak egybefonódnak, de minden egyes k?tet a saját t?rténetét meséli el, és kül?n, kerek egészként is élvezhet?. Az eredetileg magánkiadásban megjelent sorozatra felfigyelt egy nagy kiadó is, és az új kiadás révén az utóbbi évek legsikeresebb új fantasyjévé vált.

Doktor Proktor, a kétbalkezes professzor maga sem sejti, milyen kalandokba keveredik majd, amikor véletlenül feltalálja a f?ldkerekség legnagyobb erej? pukiporát, ami bárkit képes az ?rbe r?píteni. ?m amíg két kisiskolás segít?je azon dolgozik, hogy a találmány híressé és gazdaggá tegye ?ket, a csodaszer híre illetéktelenek fülébe is eljut. A doktor hamarosan egy sz?késbiztos cellában találja magát, a gonosz ikerpár ellopja a találmányt, és egy folyton éhes anakonda is beszabadul Oslo szennyvízcsatornáiba. K?zben pedig feltartóztathatatlanul k?zeleg a nemzeti ünnepre gyakorló iskolai katonazenekar... A világhír? skandináv krimiíró Doktor Proktor-sorozatát már t?bb mint 20 nyelvre fordították le. A f?szerepl?k fergeteges kalandjait elképeszt? fordulatok, abszurd humor és a Nesb?-féle kül?nleges atmoszféra teszi feledhetetlenné.

The story begins on May 5, 1805, in one of the wildest and most abrupt portions of New Spain, which now forms the State of Coahuila, belonging to the Mexican Confederation. If the reader will have the kindness to take a glance at a numerous cavalcade, which is debouching from a canyon and scaling at a gallop the scarped side of a rather lofty hill, on the top of which stands an aldea, or village of Indios mansos, he will at the same time form the acquaintance of several of our principal characters, and the country in which the events recorded in this narrative occurred. This cavalcade was composed of fifteen individuals in all; ten of them were lancers, attired in that yellow uniform which procured them the nickname of tamarindos. These soldiers were execrated by the people, in consequence of their cruelty. They advanced in good order, commanded by a subaltern and an alférez—an old trooper who had grown gray in harness, who had long white moustachios and a disagreeable face. As he galloped on, he looked around him with the careless, wearied air of a man for whom the future reserves no hopes either of ambition, love, or fortune. About twenty paces from this little band, and just so far ahead that their remarks reached the soldiers' ears in a completely incomprehensible fashion, three persons, two men and a woman, were riding side by side.The first was a gentleman of about thirty years of age, of commanding stature; his harsh, haughty, and menacing features were rendered even more gloomy by a deep scar of a livid hue which commenced on his right temple and divided his face into two nearly equal parts. This man, who was dressed in the sumptuous costume of the Mexican campesinos, which he wore with far from common grace, was named Don Aníbal de Saldibar, and was considered the richest hacendero in the province.His companion, who kept slightly in the rear, doubtless through respect, was a civilized Indian, with a quick eye, aquiline nose, and a wide mouth lined with two rows of dazzling white teeth. His countenance indicated intelligence and bravery. He was short and robust, and the almost disproportioned development of his muscles gave an enormous width to his limbs. This individual must assuredly be endowed with extraordinary strength. His attire, not nearly so rich as that of the hacendero, displayed a certain pretension to elegance, which was an extraordinary thing in an Indian. This man's name was Pedro Sotavento, and he was majordomo to Don Aníbal.As we have said, the third person was a female. Although it was easy to see, through the juvenile grace of her movements and her taper waist, that she was still very young, she was so discreetly hidden behind gauze and muslin veils, in order to protect her from the burning heat of the sun which was then at its zenith, that it was impossible to distinguish her features. Long black locks escaped from beneath her broad-brimmed vicu?a hat, and fell in profusion on her pink and white shoulders, which were scarcely veiled by a China crape rebozo. At the moment when we approach these three persons they were conversing together with considerable animation."No," Don Aníbal said, with a frown, as he smote the pommel of his saddle, "it is not possible, I cannot believe in so much audacity on the part of these Indian brutes. You must have been deceived, Sotavento." The majordomo grinned knowingly, and buried his head between his shoulders with a motion which was habitual to him."You will see, mi amo," he replied, in a honeyed voice, "my information is positive." "What!" the hacendero continued with increased fury, "They would really attempt resistance! Why, they must be mad!""Not so much as you suppose, mi amo; the aldea is large and contains at least three thousand callis.""What matter? Suppose there were twice as many, is not one Spaniard as good as ten Indians?"

Elég egy váratlan hajnali telefonhívás és egy rég nem hallott a hang a vonal másik végén, hogy Myron Bolitar, a kemény?kl? játékosügyn?k ismét egy els? ránézésre megoldhatatlan rejtély kell?s k?zepén találja magát. Nyolc éve, hogy utoljára találkozott a gy?ny?r? Terese Collinsszal, aki most arra kéri, utazzon Párizsba. Myron sejti, hogy nem csupán egy romantikus randevú várja a szerelem városában, ám amikor a repül?térre érve rend?r?k fogadják, majd hamarosan kiderül, hogy Terese az els? számú gyanúsítottja egy gyilkosságnak, úgy érzi, zsákutcába került. Nem ismeri sem a nyelvet, sem a szokásokat, így aligha tud bármit is kinyomozni. De miel?tt alaposabban végiggondolhatná a helyzetet, t?rténik valami, ami új megvilágításba helyezi az ügyet... ?Ekkor borítottam rá az asztalt. Amint leült mellém, azonnal végiggondoltam a lehet?ségeket. Már tudtam, mir?l van szó: emberrablás. Ha beszállok a furgonba, nekem l?ttek. Hallották már azt a nagy b?lcsességet, hogy az emberrablásoknál mindig az els? negyvennyolc óra a legkritikusabb? Amit nem szoktak hozzátenni - talán mert annyira nyilvánvaló -, hogy minden másodperccel cs?kken az esélye annak, hogy valaha is megtalálják az áldozatot. Itt ugyanez volt a helyzet. Ha beszállok abba a kocsiba, túlélési esélyeim a minimumra cs?kkennek. Ha felállok, és elindulok a furgon felé, szintén romlanak a kilátásaim. Ráadásul Sebhelyes Fej nem számít korai ellencsapásra. Azt hiszi, szépen begyakorolt kis monológját hallgatom. Nem jelentek fenyegetést. ?gy hát a meglepetés erejére építettem. Egy pillanatra ? is odanézett, hogy meggy?z?dj?n, valóban ott áll-e a kocsi. Ennyi elég is volt. Az asztal peremét már korábban megmarkoltam. Lábizmaim megfeszültek. ?gy pattantam f?l, mintha dobbantóról ugranék. Az asztallap egyenesen az arcába csapódott." Harlan Coben napjaink egyik legnépszer?bb krimiírója. Regényeit a m?faj gy?ngyszemeiként tartják számon, eddig negyven kül?nb?z? nyelvre fordították le, és k?zel 50 millió (!) példányt adtak el bel?lük világszerte.

These tales are translated from a variety of authors. The translator has been chiefly led to the task by the hope of composing an entertaining volume out of materials not generally accessible. The works in which many of them are found, are by no means common, and the indelicacy with which almost all collections of Italian tales are polluted, deservedly excludes them from general perusal. Such care has, however, been employed in the following selection, and such liberties taken with the originals, when they appeared objectionable on this account, that it is hoped this little book will escape the censure too justly cast upon Italian works of humour, in general—a censure which falls heavily upon many of the otherwise admirable tales of Boccaccio. While, however, such trifling alterations have been made as appeared necessary, these tales may still justly be considered as fair specimens of the Italian Novella, and like the celebrated collection already alluded to, furnish us with a very lively idea of the early manners of the Italians. Those tales, from which our great dramatist borrowed parts of his plots, and some of his incidents, have a double interest, both from their own nature, and as they illustrate the process by which his genius, "by happy alchemy of mind," turned all the materials which fell in his way to gold. Two or three of this kind have been purposely selected. ITALIAN TALES: THE TEACHER TAUGHT. THE UNEXPECTED REPLY. WHO AM I? THE DEAD RIDER. THE SKILFUL PHYSICIAN THE POMEGRANATE SEED THE FATAL MISTAKE THE DEAD ALIVE THE FALSE CHAMPION THE MERCHANT OF VENICE THERE IS A SKELETON IN EVERY HOUSE. THE ELOPEMENT. THE FRIAR ENTRAPPED ANTONIO AND VERONICA. BELPHAGOR. THE SLEEPING DRAUGHT THE COUNTERPARTS

THE ARABIAN NIGHTS “THE ORIENT MAGIC” The Talking Bird, The Singing Tree, and the Golden WaterThe Story of the Fisherman and the GenieThe History of the Young King of the Black IslesThe Story of Gulnare of the SeaThe Story of Aladdin; Or, the Wonderful LampThe Story of Prince AgibThe Story of the City of BrassThe Story of Ali Baba and the Forty ThievesThe History of Codadad and His BrothersThe Story of Sinbad the Voyager The Talking Bird:It will be sufficient to break off a branch and carry it to plant in your gardenThe Fisherman and the GenieThe smoke ascended to the clouds, and extending itself along the sea and upon the shore formed a great mist The Young King of the Black IslesWhen he came to this part of his narrative the young king could not restrain his tearsGulnare of the SeaAnd she proceeded to burn perfume and repeat spells until the sea foamed and was agitatedAladdinAt the same time the earth, trembling, opened just before the magician, and uncovered a stone, laid horizontally, with a brass ring fixed into the middlePrince AgibAnd when the boat came to me I found in it a man of brass, with a tablet of lead upon his breast, engraven with names and talismans Prince AgibAt the approach of evening I opened the first closet and, entering it, found a mansion like paradiseThe City of BrassAnd when they had ascended that mountain they saw a city than which eyes had not beheld any greaterThe Story of Ali Baba and the Forty ThievesCassim ... was so alarmed at the danger he was in that the more he endeavoured to remember the word Sesame the more his memory was confoundedThe History of Codadad and His BrothersAs it drew near we saw ten or twelve armed pirates appear on the deckSecond Voyage of SinbadThe spot where she left me was encompassed on all sides by mountains that seemed to reach above the clouds, and so steep that there was no possibility of getting out of the valleyThird Voyage of SinbadHaving finished his repast, he returned to his porch, where he lay and fell asleep, snoring louder than thunder.. Little excuse is needed, perhaps, for any fresh selection from the famous "Tales of a Thousand and One Nights," provided it be representative enough, and worthy enough, to enlist a new army of youthful readers. Of the two hundred and sixty-four bewildering, unparalleled stories, the true lover can hardly spare one, yet there must always be favourites, even among these. We have chosen some of the most delightful, in our opinion; some, too, that chanced to appeal particularly to the genius of the artist. If, enticed by our choice and the beauty of the pictures, we manage to attract a few thousand more true lovers to the fountain-book, we shall have served our humble turn. The only real danger lies in neglecting it, in rearing a child who does not know it and has never fallen under its spell. You remember Maimoune, in the story of Prince Camaralzaman, and what she said to Danhasch, the genie who had just arrived from the farthest limits of China? "Be sure thou tellest me nothing but what is true or I shall clip thy wings!" This is what the modern child sometimes says to the genies of literature, and his own wings are too often clipped in consequence."The Empire of the Fairies is no more. Reason has banished them from ev'ry shore;Steam has outstripped their dragons and their cars,Gas has eclipsed their glow-worms and their stars."?douard Laboulaye says in his introduction to Nouveaux Contes Bleus: "Mothers who love your children, do not set them too soon to the study of history; let them dream while they are young.

In offering this study to a public accustomed only to the unquestioning acceptance of the home as something perfect, holy, quite above discussion, a word of explanation is needed. First, let it be clearly and definitely stated, the purpose of this book is to maintain and improve the home. Criticism there is, deep and thorough; but not with the intention of robbing us of one essential element of home life—rather of saving us from conditions not only unessential, but gravely detrimental to home life. Every human being should have a home; the single person his or her home; and the family their home. The home should offer to the individual rest, peace, quiet, comfort, health, and that degree of personal expression requisite; and these conditions should be maintained by the best methods of the time. The home should be to the child a place of happiness and true development; to the adult a place of happiness and that beautiful reinforcement of the spirit needed by the world's workers. We are here to perform our best service to society, and to find our best individual growth and expression; a right home is essential to both these uses. The place of childhood's glowing memories, of youth's ideals, of the calm satisfaction of mature life, of peaceful shelter for the aged; this is not attacked, this we shall not lose, but gain more universally. What is here asserted is that our real home life is clogged and injured by a number of conditions which are not necessary, which are directly inimical to the home; and that we shall do well to lay these aside. As to the element of sanctity—that which is really sacred can bear examination, no darkened room is needed for real miracles; mystery and shadow belong to jugglers, not to the truth. The home is a human institution. All human institutions are open to improvement. This specially dear and ancient one, however, we have successfully kept shut, and so it has not improved as have some others.

It is a cumulative tale that does not tell the story of Jack's house, or even of Jack who built the house, but instead shows how the house is indirectly linked to other things and people, and through this method tells the story of "The man all tattered and torn", and the "Maiden all forlorn", as well as other smaller events, showing how these are interlinked. Origins: It has been argued that the rhyme is derived from an Aramaic hymn Chad Gadya (lit., "One Young Goat") in Sepher Haggadah, first printed in 1590; but although this is an early cumulative tale that may have inspired the form, the lyrics bear little relationship. It was suggested by James Orchard Halliwell that the reference to the "priest all shaven and shorn" indicates that the English version is probably very old, presumably as far back as the mid-sixteenth century. There is a possible reference to the song in The Boston New Letter of 12 April 1739 and the line: "This is the man all forlorn, &c". However, it did not appear in print until it was included in Nurse Truelove's New-Year's-Gift, or the Book of Books for Children, printed in London in 1755. It was printed in numerous collections in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Randolph Caldecott produced an illustrated version in 1878. Cherrington Manor, a handsome timber-framed house in North East Shropshire, England, is reputed to be the actual house that Jack built. There is a former malt house in the grounds. Syntactic structure: Each sentence in the story is an example of an increasingly deeply nested relative clause. The last version, "This is the horse...", would be quite difficult to untangle if the previous ones were not present. See the Noun Phrase for more details about postmodification of the noun phrase in this manner. References in popular culture: The rhyme continues to be a popular choice for illustrated children's books, with recent examples by Simms Taback and Quentin Blake showing how illustrators can introduce a fresh angle and humour into a familiar tale. The popularity of the rhyme can be seen in its use in a variety of other cultural contexts..

An afternoon of a cold winter’s day, when the sun shone forth with chilly brightness, after a long storm, two children asked leave of their mother to run out and play in the new-fallen snow. The elder child was a little girl, whom, because she was of a tender and modest disposition, and was thought to be very beautiful, her parents, and other people who were familiar with her, used to call Violet. But her brother was known by the style and title of Peony, on account of the ruddiness of his broad and round little phiz, which made everybody think of sunshine and great scarlet flowers. The father of these two children, a certain Mr. Lindsey, it is important to say, was an excellent, but exceedingly matter-of-fact sort of man, a dealer in hardware, and was sturdily accustomed to take what is called the common-sense view of all matters that came under his consideration. With a heart about as tender as other people’s, he had a head as hard and impenetrable, and therefore, perhaps, as empty, as one of the iron pots which it was a part of his business to sell. The mother’s character, on the other hand, had a strain of poetry in it, a trait of unworldly beauty—a delicate and dewy flower, as it were, that had survived out of her imaginative youth, and still kept itself alive amid the dusty realities of matrimony and motherhood. So, Violet and Peony, as I began with saying, besought their mother to let them run out and play in the new snow; for, though it had looked so dreary and dismal, drifting downward out of the gray sky, it had a very cheerful aspect, now that the sun was shining on it. The children dwelt in a city, and had no wider play-place than a little garden before the house, divided by a white fence from the street, and with a pear-tree and two or three plum-trees overshadowing it, and some rose-bushes just in front of the parlor windows. The trees and shrubs, however, were now leafless, and their twigs were enveloped in the light snow, which thus made a kind of wintry foliage, with here and there a pendent icicle for the fruit. “Yes, Violet,—yes, my little Peony,” said their kind mother; “you may go out and play in the new snow.”

Holmes decodes a warning from Porlock, an informant against arch-criminal Moriarty, for "Douglas" resident five years at "Birlstone". Scotland Yard's MacDonald asks them to investigate a corpse with the same look and circle-in-triangle brand on the forearm as Birlstone owner Douglas. The head was blown off by an American-style sawed-off shotgun. Apparently, an intruder dropped a card with VV341, and left across a shallow moat. Watson observes the bereaved English wife and best male friend in unusually good spirits. When Holmes pretends the moat will be drained, the conspirators retrieve a missing dumb-bell weighting down the visitor's clothes beneath the water. Douglas comes from hiding, to explain he killed the assassin Baldwin in self-defence; the plan was to save him from more attacks by criminal survivors of Vermissa Valley. He hands Dr. Watson the following account. Young McMurdo gains reputation as tough counterfeiter, Freemen Lodge member fleeing murder charges in Chicago. In the Vermissa coal mine area, McGinty rules Scowrers branded by a circle in square, the local Lodge 341 who extort, murder, and exchange vicious deeds with nearby Lodges. Pretty Ettie prefers McMurdo to nasty Baldwin, and wants to flee, but will wait some months. When word comes that Pinkerton sent Edwards, McMurdo gathers ringleaders in one room, and springs his trap on them, surrounded by the law. Although the worst were hanged, after ten years, villains were freed, and chased McMurdo-Edwards-Douglas, despite changes of name, location, and wife. He married Ettie, then she died in California, where he made a fortune. The Valley of Fear, notable for Professor Moriarty's involvement, is set before "The Final Problem", the short story in which Moriarty was introduced. This introduces a logical difficulty, as in "The Final Problem" Dr. Watson has never heard of Moriarty, whereas by the end of The Valley Of Fear he is, or should be, familiar with his name and character. The "Moriarty" element in the story is tied into the fate of the informer in the story. It ties the Molly Maguire background to another event of that period: the murder of James Carey, an informer who was shot on board a ship off the coast of Natal, South Africa in 1883 by Patrick O'Donnell, an Irish republican who had relatives in the Mollies and briefly visited the Pennsylvania coal mining district, supposedly looking for the suspected informer among them.

The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing. It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said 'Bother!' and 'O blow!' and also 'Hang spring-cleaning!' and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat. Something up above was calling him imperiously, and he made for the steep little tunnel which answered in his case to the gavelled carriage-drive owned by animals whose residences are nearer to the sun and air. So he scraped and scratched and scrabbled and scrooged and then he scrooged again and scrabbled and scratched and scraped, working busily with his little paws and muttering to himself, 'Up we go! Up we go!' till at last, pop! his snout came out into the sunlight, and he found himself rolling in the warm grass of a great meadow. 'This is fine!' he said to himself. 'This is better than whitewashing!' The sunshine struck hot on his fur, soft breezes caressed his heated brow, and after the seclusion of the cellarage he had lived in so long the carol of happy birds fell on his dulled hearing almost like a shout. Jumping off all his four legs at once, in the joy of living and the delight of spring without its cleaning, he pursued his way across the meadow till he reached the hedge on the further side. 'Hold up!' said an elderly rabbit at the gap. 'Sixpence for the privilege of passing by the private road!' He was bowled over in an instant by the impatient and contemptuous Mole, who trotted along the side of the hedge chaffing the other rabbits as they peeped hurriedly from their holes to see what the row was about. 'Onion-sauce! Onion-sauce!' he remarked jeeringly, and was gone before they could think of a thoroughly satisfactory reply. Then they all started grumbling at each other. 'How STUPID you are! Why didn't you tell him——' 'Well, why didn't YOU say——' 'You might have reminded him——' and so on, in the usual way; but, of course, it was then much too late, as is always the case. It all seemed too good to be true. Hither and thither through the meadows he rambled busily, along the hedgerows, across the copses, finding everywhere birds building, flowers budding, leaves thrusting—everything happy, and progressive, and occupied. And instead of having an uneasy conscience pricking him and whispering 'whitewash!' he somehow could only feel how jolly it was to be the only idle dog among all these busy citizens. After all, the best part of a holiday is perhaps not so much to be resting yourself, as to see all the other fellows busy working.

Strumming a harp while floating on a white cloud might be Paradise for some people, but it would bore others stiff. Given an unlimited chance to choose your ideal world, what would you specify—palaces or log cabins? I'll take beer, son, and thanks again for the offer. As you can see, I'm kinda down on my luck. I know what you're thinking, but I'm not really on the bum. I usually make out all right—nothing fancy, mind you, but it's a living. Odd jobs in the winter and spring, follow the harvests in the summer and fall. Things are slack right now.You? Electronics, huh? Used to know a fellow in electronics.... His name was Joe Shannon, used to work for Stellar Electric up in Fremont. Young fellow, not more'n twenty-five or so. Rail thin, wispy hair, serious look—you know, the one suit, absent-minded type. Joe was a brain. A triple-A, gold-plated, genuine genius. Had a wife named Marge. Not beautiful but pretty and a nice figure and a cook you never saw the likes of. Like I say, she was married to Joe but Joe was married to his work and after you'd been around a while, you could tell there was friction. But that ain't the beginning.

Treasure Island is an adventure novel by Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson, narrating a tale of "buccaneers and buried gold". First published as a book on 23 May 1883, it was originally serialized in the children's magazine Young Folks between 1881 and 1882 under the title Treasure Island or, the mutiny of the Hispaniola with Stevenson adopting the pseudonym Captain George North. Traditionally considered a coming-of-age story, Treasure Island is a tale known for its atmosphere, characters and action, and also as a wry commentary on the ambiguity of morality — as seen in Long John Silver — unusual for children's literature now and then. It is one of the most frequently dramatized of all novels. The influence of Treasure Island on popular perceptions of pirates is enormous, including treasure maps marked with an "X", schooners, the Black Spot, tropical islands, and one-legged seamen carrying parrots on their shoulders. Short Summary of the Book:The novel is divided into six parts and 34 chapters: The novel opens in the seaside village of Black Hill Cove in south-west England (to Stevenson, in his letters and in the related fictional play Admiral Guinea, near Barnstaple, Devon) in the mid-18th century. The narrator, James "Jim" Hawkins, is the young son of the owners of the Admiral Benbow Inn. An old drunken seaman named Billy Bones becomes a long-term lodger at the inn, only paying for about the first week of his stay. Jim quickly realizes that Bones is in hiding, and that he particularly dreads meeting an unidentified seafaring man with one leg. Some months later, Bones is visited by a mysterious sailor named Black Dog. Their meeting turns violent, Black Dog flees and Bones suffers a stroke. While Jim cares for him, Bones confesses that he was once the mate of a notorious late pirate, Captain Flint, and that his old crewmates want Bones' sea chest. Some time later, another of Bones' crew mates, a blind man named Pew, appears at the inn and forces Jim to lead him to Bones. Pew gives Bones a paper. After Pew leaves, Bones opens the paper to discover it is marked with the Black Spot, a pirate summons, with the warning that he has until ten o'clock to meet their demands. Bones drops dead of apoplexy (in this context, a stroke) on the spot. Jim and his mother open Bones' sea chest to collect the amount due to them for Bones' room and board, but before they can count out the money that they are owed, they hear pirates approaching the inn and are forced to flee and hide, Jim taking with him a mysterious oilskin packet from the chest. The pirates, led by Pew, find the sea chest and the money, but are frustrated that there is no sign of "Flint's fist". Customs men approach and the pirates escape to their vessel (all except for Pew, who is accidentally run down and killed by the agents' horses).

rk élet! Az emberiség si vágya. Mely megvalósíthatatlan - vagy mégsem Nathaniel Delinger, a látnok zseni a csillagok kztt találja meg ennek lehetségét. A neve: Endümión. Mert ugyan sokaknak vágya az rk élet - de van, aki nem akarja, hogy bárki rkké éljen. s ezért akár az rklétet is képes elpusztítani. Owen, a fiatal nyomozó, egy gyilkossági ügy kapcsán 8 feladvánnyal szembesül, mely egyre kzelebb visz Endümión titkához - és kzelebb egy hazugság leleplezdéséhez. Az elkvetk célja, hogy elutazhassanak Endümiónra, ahol az rk élet várja ket, hogy megszabaduljanak a Fld haláltól terhes világától. Vajon Endümión tényleg az az eszményi hely s mi az a szilánk, és hogyan kerül a Fldre GARZ LSZL fantáziájának sem a tér, sem az id nem szabhat határokat. A szerz fordulatokban gazdag kalandos sci-fi trténete új izgalmas világokba repíti az olvasót.

Lauren Hope a fiatal, gyönyör?, és céltudatos n? minden kétséget kizáróan hisz benne. Két nagy álma van: sikeres író szeretne lenni, és meg akarja ismerni az igaz szerelmet, melyr?l a nagy könyvekben írnak. Egy nap messzire utazik abban a reményben, hogy fájdalmait maga mögött hagyhatja. Akkor még nem is sejti, hogy ez az utazás alapjaiban változtatja meg az életét. Távol otthonától a véletlennek köszönhet?en megismerkedik egy titokzatos, jókép? zenésszel. Dylan Duprés, a biztonságot sugárzó férfi, Lauren álmainak lehetséges megvalósítója, egyben minden probléma forrása. Vajon milyen hatással lesz Lauren életére ennek a rejtélyes férfinek a felbukkanása? Elképzelhet?, hogy mindkét álma valóra válik? És ha választania kell? Zsarnai Beáta - a N?k Lapjához tartozó Cafeblog kiemelt bloggerének - els? regénye a sors hatalmáról.