is the recognition of the fact that we are born without knowledge, and that the acquisition of knowledge is a slow and painful process.If all man needed upon earth was a "knowledge of God," then why the necessity of establishing educational institutions? Unless a child is taught to talk, it will never be able to speak the language of our tongue. Without teaching the child the rudiments of speech, he would be unable to communicate his thoughts to others. Without proper training his

erstand my language.And after seven moons, one day a soothsayer looked at me, and hesaid to my mother, "Your son will be a statesman and a great leaderof men." But I cried out,--"That is a false prophet; for I shall be amusician, and naught but a musician shall I be." But even at that age my language was not understood--and great wasmy astonishment. And after three and thirty years, during which my mother, and thenurse, and the priest have all died, (the shadow of God be

e building, divided into apartments or flats of a dismal and dingy sort. We found the landlady in the basement: a gaunt woman in soiled gray, with a hard, thin-lipped mouth and pale, suspicious eyes. She was rocking vigorously in a creaking chair and sewing on a pair of overalls, while three dirty kids tussled with a mongrel puppy up and down the room.Dean showed his badge, and told her that we wanted to speak to her in privacy. She got up to chase the kids and their dog out, and then stood

onument that the famed tomb of Perneb was found--more than four hundred miles north of the Theban rock valley where Tut-Ankh-Amen sleeps. Again I was forced to silence through sheer awe. The prospect of such antiquity, and the secrets each hoary monument seemed to hold and brood over, filled me with a reverence and sense of immensity nothing else ever gave me.Fatigued by our climb, and disgusted with the importunate Bedouins whose actions seemed to defy every rule of taste, we omitted the

rcling about it as it revolved slowly."The globe itself is keeping perfect time, and Darius is all right, Xerxes is a few seconds of longitude ahead of true position." "That's dreadful, Mr. Grego!" Stenson was deeply shocked. "I must adjust that the first thing tomorrow. I should have called to check on it long ago, but you know how it is. So many things to do, and so little time." "I find the same trouble myself, Mr. Stenson." They chatted for a while,

delicate path around them."Hands on the wall." The skin on the back of Adam's hands looked like tissue paper, ready to tear at a moment's notice. The air reeked - an acrid combination of vomit and excrement that the drizzle only aggravated. Adam spread his legs and let Dan pat his sides for weapons. Dan pressed the muzzle of his automatic into the small of Adam's back, hard enough to bruise. He grappled with his handcuffs and slapped them around Adam's left wrist. Then, with a twist

nd time it's happened that we know of. There may be others.""The second time?" "The previous interview was when we noticed it. The leady was not hot. It was cold, too, like this one." Moss took back the metal plate from the leady's hands. He pressed the surface carefully and returned it to the stiff, unprotesting fingers. "We shorted it out with this, so we could get close enough for a thorough check. It'll come back on in a second now. We had better get behind the

ttalus, a Christian and a Roman citizen, was loudly demanded by the populace and brought into the amphitheatre; but the governor ordered him to be reserved, with the rest who were in prison, until he had received instructions from the emperor. Many had been tortured before the governor thought of applying to Antoninus. The imperial rescript, says the letter, was that the Christians should be punished, but if they would deny their faith, they must be released. On this the work began again. The

at the very idea of publication in print had hardly occurred to many writers' minds. When the book appeared, both its main contributors, Surrey and Wyatt, had been long dead, as well as others (Sir Francis Bryan and Anne Boleyn's unlucky brother, George Lord Rochford) who are supposed to be represented. The short Printer's Address to the Reader gives absolutely no intelligence as to the circumstances of the publication, the person responsible for the editing, or the authority which the editor

ndicular walls of the castle, trumpets sounded and mailed guards ran to appointed places at the castle's entrance. The beautiful creature nodded in acknowledgment of their salute as she stepped past them, Jenkins at her side and the eight bodyguards, two abreast, walking behind. Thus they proceeded up the long and narrow courtyard through another entrance, and into an inner courtyard which preceded the entrance hall proper to the castle.Things happened at a greater pace from then on. At her