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  "map_content": "The Project Gutenberg eBook of Alice\u2019s Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll\r\n\r\nThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at\r\nwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you\r\nwill have to check the laws of the country where you are located before\r\nusing this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Alice\u2019s Adventures in Wonderland\r\n\r\nAuthor: Lewis Carroll\r\n\r\nRelease Date: January, 1991 [eBook #11]\r\n[Most recently updated: October 12, 2020]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCharacter set encoding: UTF-8\r\n\r\nProduced by: Arthur DiBianca and David Widger\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALICE\u2019S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND ***\r\n\r\n[Illustration]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nAlice\u2019s Adventures in Wonderland\r\n\r\nby Lewis Carroll\r\n\r\nTHE MILLENNIUM FULCRUM EDITION 3.0\r\n\r\nContents\r\n\r\n CHAPTER I.     Down the Rabbit-Hole\r\n CHAPTER II.    The Pool of Tears\r\n CHAPTER III.   A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale\r\n CHAPTER IV.    The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill\r\n CHAPTER V.     Advice from a Caterpillar\r\n CHAPTER VI.    Pig and Pepper\r\n CHAPTER VII.   A Mad Tea-Party\r\n CHAPTER VIII.  The Queen\u2019s Croquet-Ground\r\n CHAPTER IX.    The Mock Turtle\u2019s Story\r\n CHAPTER X.     The Lobster Quadrille\r\n CHAPTER XI.    Who Stole the Tarts?\r\n CHAPTER XII.   Alice\u2019s Evidence\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER I.\r\nDown the Rabbit-Hole\r\n\r\n\r\nAlice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the\r\nbank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into\r\nthe book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or\r\nconversations in it, \u201cand what is the use of a book,\u201d thought Alice\r\n\u201cwithout pictures or conversations?\u201d\r\n\r\nSo she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the\r\nhot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of\r\nmaking a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and\r\npicking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran\r\nclose by her.\r\n\r\nThere was nothing so _very_ remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it\r\nso _very_ much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, \u201cOh\r\ndear! Oh dear! I shall be late!\u201d (when she thought it over afterwards,\r\nit occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the\r\ntime it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually _took a\r\nwatch out of its waistcoat-pocket_, and looked at it, and then hurried\r\non, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she\r\nhad never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a\r\nwatch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the\r\nfield after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a\r\nlarge rabbit-hole under the hedge.\r\n\r\nIn another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how\r\nin the world she was to get out again.\r\n\r\nThe rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then\r\ndipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think\r\nabout stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very\r\ndeep well.\r\n\r\nEither the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had\r\nplenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what\r\nwas going to happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out\r\nwhat she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she\r\nlooked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with\r\ncupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures\r\nhung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she\r\npassed; it was labelled \u201cORANGE MARMALADE\u201d, but to her great\r\ndisappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear\r\nof killing somebody underneath, so managed to put it into one of the\r\ncupboards as she fell past it.\r\n\r\n\u201cWell!\u201d thought Alice to herself, \u201cafter such a fall as this, I shall\r\nthink nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they\u2019ll all think me\r\nat home! Why, I wouldn\u2019t say anything about it, even if I fell off the\r\ntop of the house!\u201d (Which was very likely true.)\r\n\r\nDown, down, down. Would the fall _never_ come to an end? \u201cI wonder how\r\nmany miles I\u2019ve fallen by this time?\u201d she said aloud. \u201cI must be\r\ngetting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would\r\nbe four thousand miles down, I think\u2014\u201d (for, you see, Alice had learnt\r\nseveral things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and\r\nthough this was not a _very_ good opportunity for showing off her\r\nknowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good\r\npractice to say it over) \u201c\u2014yes, that\u2019s about the right distance\u2014but\r\nthen I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I\u2019ve got to?\u201d (Alice had no\r\nidea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice\r\ngrand words to say.)\r\n\r\nPresently she began again. \u201cI wonder if I shall fall right _through_\r\nthe earth! How funny it\u2019ll seem to come out among the people that walk\r\nwith their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think\u2014\u201d (she was rather\r\nglad there _was_ no one listening, this time, as it didn\u2019t sound at all\r\nthe right word) \u201c\u2014but I shall have to ask them what the name of the\r\ncountry is, you know. Please, Ma\u2019am, is this New Zealand or Australia?\u201d\r\n(and she tried to curtsey as she spoke\u2014fancy _curtseying_ as you\u2019re\r\nfalling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) \u201cAnd what\r\nan ignorant little girl she\u2019ll think me for asking! No, it\u2019ll never do\r\nto ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.\u201d\r\n\r\nDown, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began\r\ntalking again. \u201cDinah\u2019ll miss me very much to-night, I should think!\u201d\r\n(Dinah was the cat.) \u201cI hope they\u2019ll remember her saucer of milk at\r\ntea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are\r\nno mice in the air, I\u2019m afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that\u2019s\r\nvery like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?\u201d And here\r\nAlice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a\r\ndreamy sort of way, \u201cDo cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?\u201d and\r\nsometimes, \u201cDo bats eat cats?\u201d for, you see, as she couldn\u2019t answer\r\neither question, it didn\u2019t much matter which way she put it. She felt\r\nthat she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was\r\nwalking hand in hand with Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly,\r\n\u201cNow, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?\u201d when suddenly,\r\nthump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and\r\nthe fall was over.\r\n\r\nAlice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment:\r\nshe looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another\r\nlong passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down\r\nit. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind,\r\nand was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, \u201cOh my ears\r\nand whiskers, how late it\u2019s getting!\u201d She was close behind it when she\r\nturned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found\r\nherself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging\r\nfrom the roof.\r\n\r\nThere were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when\r\nAlice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every\r\ndoor, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to\r\nget out again.\r\n\r\nSuddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid\r\nglass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice\u2019s\r\nfirst thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall;\r\nbut, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small,\r\nbut at any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the second\r\ntime round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and\r\nbehind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the\r\nlittle golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted!\r\n\r\nAlice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not\r\nmuch larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the\r\npassage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get\r\nout of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright\r\nflowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head\r\nthrough the doorway; \u201cand even if my head would go through,\u201d thought\r\npoor Alice, \u201cit would be of very little use without my shoulders. Oh,\r\nhow I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only\r\nknew how to begin.\u201d For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had\r\nhappened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things\r\nindeed were really impossible.\r\n\r\nThere seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went\r\nback to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at\r\nany rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this\r\ntime she found a little bottle on it, (\u201cwhich certainly was not here\r\nbefore,\u201d said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper\r\nlabel, with the words \u201cDRINK ME,\u201d beautifully printed on it in large\r\nletters.\r\n\r\nIt was all very well to say \u201cDrink me,\u201d but the wise little Alice was\r\nnot going to do _that_ in a hurry. \u201cNo, I\u2019ll look first,\u201d she said,\r\n\u201cand see whether it\u2019s marked \u2018_poison_\u2019 or not\u201d; for she had read\r\nseveral nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and\r\neaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they\r\n_would_ not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them:\r\nsuch as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long;\r\nand that if you cut your finger _very_ deeply with a knife, it usually\r\nbleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a\r\nbottle marked \u201cpoison,\u201d it is almost certain to disagree with you,\r\nsooner or later.\r\n\r\nHowever, this bottle was _not_ marked \u201cpoison,\u201d so Alice ventured to\r\ntaste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed\r\nflavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and\r\nhot buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off.\r\n\r\n*      *      *      *      *      *      *\r\n\r\n    *      *      *      *      *      *\r\n\r\n*      *      *      *      *      *      *\r\n\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat a curious feeling!\u201d said Alice; \u201cI must be shutting up like a\r\ntelescope.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face\r\nbrightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going\r\nthrough the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she\r\nwaited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further:\r\nshe felt a little nervous about this; \u201cfor it might end, you know,\u201d\r\nsaid Alice to herself, \u201cin my going out altogether, like a candle. I\r\nwonder what I should be like then?\u201d And she tried to fancy what the\r\nflame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could\r\nnot remember ever having seen such a thing.\r\n\r\nAfter a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going\r\ninto the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the\r\ndoor, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she\r\nwent back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach\r\nit: she could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her\r\nbest to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery;\r\nand when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing\r\nsat down and cried.\r\n\r\n\u201cCome, there\u2019s no use in crying like that!\u201d said Alice to herself,\r\nrather sharply; \u201cI advise you to leave off this minute!\u201d She generally\r\ngave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it),\r\nand sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into\r\nher eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having\r\ncheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself,\r\nfor this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people.\r\n\u201cBut it\u2019s no use now,\u201d thought poor Alice, \u201cto pretend to be two\r\npeople! Why, there\u2019s hardly enough of me left to make _one_ respectable\r\nperson!\u201d\r\n\r\nSoon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table:\r\nshe opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words\r\n\u201cEAT ME\u201d were beautifully marked in currants. \u201cWell, I\u2019ll eat it,\u201d said\r\nAlice, \u201cand if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it\r\nmakes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I\u2019ll\r\nget into the garden, and I don\u2019t care which happens!\u201d\r\n\r\nShe ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, \u201cWhich way? Which\r\nway?\u201d, holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was\r\ngrowing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same\r\nsize: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice\r\nhad got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way\r\nthings to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go\r\non in the common way.\r\n\r\nSo she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake.\r\n\r\n*      *      *      *      *      *      *\r\n\r\n    *      *      *      *      *      *\r\n\r\n*      *      *      *      *      *      *\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER II.\r\nThe Pool of Tears\r\n\r\n\r\n\u201cCuriouser and curiouser!\u201d cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that\r\nfor the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English); \u201cnow I\u2019m\r\nopening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-bye, feet!\u201d\r\n(for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost out of\r\nsight, they were getting so far off). \u201cOh, my poor little feet, I\r\nwonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I\u2019m\r\nsure _I_ shan\u2019t be able! I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble\r\nmyself about you: you must manage the best way you can;\u2014but I must be\r\nkind to them,\u201d thought Alice, \u201cor perhaps they won\u2019t walk the way I\r\nwant to go! Let me see: I\u2019ll give them a new pair of boots every\r\nChristmas.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd she went on planning to herself how she would manage it. \u201cThey must\r\ngo by the carrier,\u201d she thought; \u201cand how funny it\u2019ll seem, sending\r\npresents to one\u2019s own feet! And how odd the directions will look!\r\n\r\n     _Alice\u2019s Right Foot, Esq., Hearthrug, near the Fender,_ (_with\r\n     Alice\u2019s love_).\r\n\r\nOh dear, what nonsense I\u2019m talking!\u201d\r\n\r\nJust then her head struck against the roof of the hall: in fact she was\r\nnow more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden\r\nkey and hurried off to the garden door.\r\n\r\nPoor Alice! It was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to\r\nlook through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more\r\nhopeless than ever: she sat down and began to cry again.\r\n\r\n\u201cYou ought to be ashamed of yourself,\u201d said Alice, \u201ca great girl like\r\nyou,\u201d (she might well say this), \u201cto go on crying in this way! Stop\r\nthis moment, I tell you!\u201d But she went on all the same, shedding\r\ngallons of tears, until there was a large pool all round her, about\r\nfour inches deep and reaching half down the hall.\r\n\r\nAfter a time she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance, and\r\nshe hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. It was the White\r\nRabbit returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves\r\nin one hand and a large fan in the other: he came trotting along in a\r\ngreat hurry, muttering to himself as he came, \u201cOh! the Duchess, the\r\nDuchess! Oh! won\u2019t she be savage if I\u2019ve kept her waiting!\u201d Alice felt\r\nso desperate that she was ready to ask help of any one; so, when the\r\nRabbit came near her, she began, in a low, timid voice, \u201cIf you please,\r\nsir\u2014\u201d The Rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid gloves and\r\nthe fan, and skurried away into the darkness as hard as he could go.\r\n\r\nAlice took up the fan and gloves, and, as the hall was very hot, she\r\nkept fanning herself all the time she went on talking: \u201cDear, dear! How\r\nqueer everything is to-day! And yesterday things went on just as usual.\r\nI wonder if I\u2019ve been changed in the night? Let me think: was I the\r\nsame when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling\r\na little different. But if I\u2019m not the same, the next question is, Who\r\nin the world am I? Ah, _that\u2019s_ the great puzzle!\u201d And she began\r\nthinking over all the children she knew that were of the same age as\r\nherself, to see if she co",
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  "map_content": "The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Eyes Have It, by Philip Kindred Dick\r\n\r\nThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with\r\nalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or\r\nre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included\r\nwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org\r\n\r\n\r\nTitle: The Eyes Have It\r\n\r\nAuthor: Philip Kindred Dick\r\n\r\nRelease Date: March 6, 2010 [EBook #31516]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EYES HAVE IT ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Barbara Tozier and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n    This etext was produced from _Science Fiction Stories_ 1953.\r\n    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.\r\n    copyright on this publication was renewed.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n    _A little whimsy, now and then, makes for good balance.\r\n    Theoretically, you could find this type of humor anywhere. But\r\n    only a topflight science-fictionist, we thought, could have\r\n    written this story, in just this way...._\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n_The Eyes Have It_\r\n\r\nby PHILIP K. DICK\r\n\r\n\r\nIt was quite by accident I discovered this incredible invasion of\r\nEarth by lifeforms from another planet. As yet, I haven't done\r\nanything about it; I can't think of anything to do. I wrote to the\r\nGovernment, and they sent back a pamphlet on the repair and\r\nmaintenance of frame houses. Anyhow, the whole thing is known; I'm not\r\nthe first to discover it. Maybe it's even under control.\r\n\r\nI was sitting in my easy-chair, idly turning the pages of a\r\npaperbacked book someone had left on the bus, when I came across the\r\nreference that first put me on the trail. For a moment I didn't\r\nrespond. It took some time for the full import to sink in. After I'd\r\ncomprehended, it seemed odd I hadn't noticed it right away.\r\n\r\nThe reference was clearly to a nonhuman species of incredible\r\nproperties, not indigenous to Earth. A species, I hasten to point out,\r\ncustomarily masquerading as ordinary human beings. Their disguise,\r\nhowever, became transparent in the face of the following observations\r\nby the author. It was at once obvious the author knew everything. Knew\r\neverything--and was taking it in his stride. The line (and I tremble\r\nremembering it even now) read:\r\n\r\n    _... his eyes slowly roved about the room._\r\n\r\nVague chills assailed me. I tried to picture the eyes. Did they roll\r\nlike dimes? The passage indicated not; they seemed to move through the\r\nair, not over the surface. Rather rapidly, apparently. No one in the\r\nstory was surprised. That's what tipped me off. No sign of amazement\r\nat such an outrageous thing. Later the matter was amplified.\r\n\r\n    _... his eyes moved from person to person._\r\n\r\nThere it was in a nutshell. The eyes had clearly come apart from the\r\nrest of him and were on their own. My heart pounded and my breath\r\nchoked in my windpipe. I had stumbled on an accidental mention of a\r\ntotally unfamiliar race. Obviously non-Terrestrial. Yet, to the\r\ncharacters in the book, it was perfectly natural--which suggested they\r\nbelonged to the same species.\r\n\r\nAnd the author? A slow suspicion burned in my mind. The author was\r\ntaking it rather _too easily_ in his stride. Evidently, he felt this\r\nwas quite a usual thing. He made absolutely no attempt to conceal this\r\nknowledge. The story continued:\r\n\r\n    _... presently his eyes fastened on Julia._\r\n\r\nJulia, being a lady, had at least the breeding to feel indignant. She\r\nis described as blushing and knitting her brows angrily. At this, I\r\nsighed with relief. They weren't _all_ non-Terrestrials. The narrative\r\ncontinues:\r\n\r\n    _... slowly, calmly, his eyes examined every inch of her._\r\n\r\nGreat Scott! But here the girl turned and stomped off and the matter\r\nended. I lay back in my chair gasping with horror. My wife and family\r\nregarded me in wonder.\r\n\r\n\"What's wrong, dear?\" my wife asked.\r\n\r\nI couldn't tell her. Knowledge like this was too much for the ordinary\r\nrun-of-the-mill person. I had to keep it to myself. \"Nothing,\" I\r\ngasped. I leaped up, snatched the book, and hurried out of the room.\r\n\r\n       *       *       *       *       *\r\n\r\nIn the garage, I continued reading. There was more. Trembling, I read\r\nthe next revealing passage:\r\n\r\n    _... he put his arm around Julia. Presently she asked him if\r\n    he would remove his arm. He immediately did so, with a smile._\r\n\r\nIt's not said what was done with the arm after the fellow had removed\r\nit. Maybe it was left standing upright in the corner. Maybe it was\r\nthrown away. I don't care. In any case, the full meaning was there,\r\nstaring me right in the face.\r\n\r\nHere was a race of creatures capable of removing portions of their\r\nanatomy at will. Eyes, arms--and maybe more. Without batting an\r\neyelash. My knowledge of biology came in handy, at this point.\r\nObviously they were simple beings, uni-cellular, some sort of\r\nprimitive single-celled things. Beings no more developed than\r\nstarfish. Starfish can do the same thing, you know.\r\n\r\nI read on. And came to this incredible revelation, tossed off coolly\r\nby the author without the faintest tremor:\r\n\r\n    _... outside the movie theater we split up. Part of us went\r\n    inside, part over to the cafe for dinner._\r\n\r\nBinary fission, obviously. Splitting in half and forming two entities.\r\nProbably each lower half went to the cafe, it being farther, and the\r\nupper halves to the movies. I read on, hands shaking. I had really\r\nstumbled onto something here. My mind reeled as I made out this\r\npassage:\r\n\r\n    _... I'm afraid there's no doubt about it. Poor Bibney has\r\n    lost his head again._\r\n\r\nWhich was followed by:\r\n\r\n    _... and Bob says he has utterly no guts._\r\n\r\nYet Bibney got around as well as the next person. The next person,\r\nhowever, was just as strange. He was soon described as:\r\n\r\n    _... totally lacking in brains._\r\n\r\n       *       *       *       *       *\r\n\r\nThere was no doubt of the thing in the next passage. Julia, whom I had\r\nthought to be the one normal person, reveals herself as also being an\r\nalien life form, similar to the rest:\r\n\r\n    _... quite deliberately, Julia had given her heart to the\r\n    young man._\r\n\r\nIt didn't relate what the final disposition of the organ was, but I\r\ndidn't really care. It was evident Julia had gone right on living in\r\nher usual manner, like all the others in the book. Without heart,\r\narms, eyes, brains, viscera, dividing up in two when the occasion\r\ndemanded. Without a qualm.\r\n\r\n    _... thereupon she gave him her hand._\r\n\r\nI sickened. The rascal now had her hand, as well as her heart. I\r\nshudder to think what he's done with them, by this time.\r\n\r\n    _... he took her arm._\r\n\r\nNot content to wait, he had to start dismantling her on his own.\r\nFlushing crimson, I slammed the book shut and leaped to my feet. But\r\nnot in time to escape one last reference to those carefree bits of\r\nanatomy whose travels had originally thrown me on the track:\r\n\r\n    _... her eyes followed him all the way down the road and\r\n    across the meadow._\r\n\r\nI rushed from the garage and back inside the warm house, as if the\r\naccursed things were following me. My wife and children were playing\r\nMonopoly in the kitchen. I joined them and played with frantic fervor,\r\nbrow feverish, teeth chattering.\r\n\r\nI had had enough of the thing. I want to hear no more about it. Let\r\nthem come on. Let them invade Earth. I don't want to get mixed up in\r\nit.\r\n\r\nI have absolutely no stomach for it.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Eyes Have It, by Philip Kindred Dick\r\n\r\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EYES HAVE IT ***\r\n\r\n***** This file should be named 31516.txt or 31516.zip *****\r\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\r\n        https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/5/1/31516/\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Barbara Tozier and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\r\nwill be renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no\r\none owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\r\n(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\r\npermission and without paying copyright royalties.  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  "map_content": "Project Gutenberg's Frankenstein, by Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley\r\n\r\nThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with\r\nalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or\r\nre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included\r\nwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net\r\n\r\n\r\nTitle: Frankenstein\r\n       or The Modern Prometheus\r\n\r\nAuthor: Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley\r\n\r\nRelease Date: June 17, 2008 [EBook #84]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCharacter set encoding: ASCII\r\n\r\n*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRANKENSTEIN ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Judith Boss, Christy Phillips, Lynn Hanninen,\r\nand David Meltzer. HTML version by Al Haines.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nFrankenstein,\r\n\r\nor the Modern Prometheus\r\n\r\n\r\nby\r\n\r\nMary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nLetter 1\r\n\r\n\r\nSt. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17--\r\n\r\nTO Mrs. Saville, England\r\n\r\nYou will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the\r\ncommencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil\r\nforebodings.  I arrived here yesterday, and my first task is to assure\r\nmy dear sister of my welfare and increasing confidence in the success\r\nof my undertaking.\r\n\r\nI am already far north of London, and as I walk in the streets of\r\nPetersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, which\r\nbraces my nerves and fills me with delight.  Do you understand this\r\nfeeling?  This breeze, which has travelled from the regions towards\r\nwhich I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes.\r\nInspirited by this wind of promise, my daydreams become more fervent\r\nand vivid.  I try in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seat of\r\nfrost and desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as the\r\nregion of beauty and delight.  There, Margaret, the sun is forever\r\nvisible, its broad disk just skirting the horizon and diffusing a\r\nperpetual splendour.  There--for with your leave, my sister, I will put\r\nsome trust in preceding navigators--there snow and frost are banished;\r\nand, sailing over a calm sea, we may be wafted to a land surpassing in\r\nwonders and in beauty every region hitherto discovered on the habitable\r\nglobe.  Its productions and features may be without example, as the\r\nphenomena of the heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscovered\r\nsolitudes.  What may not be expected in a country of eternal light?  I\r\nmay there discover the wondrous power which attracts the needle and may\r\nregulate a thousand celestial observations that require only this\r\nvoyage to render their seeming eccentricities consistent forever.  I\r\nshall satiate my ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world\r\nnever before visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted by\r\nthe foot of man. These are my enticements, and they are sufficient to\r\nconquer all fear of danger or death and to induce me to commence this\r\nlaborious voyage with the joy a child feels when he embarks in a little\r\nboat, with his holiday mates, on an expedition of discovery up his\r\nnative river. But supposing all these conjectures to be false, you\r\ncannot contest the inestimable benefit which I shall confer on all\r\nmankind, to the last generation, by discovering a passage near the pole\r\nto those countries, to reach which at present so many months are\r\nrequisite; or by ascertaining the secret of the magnet, which, if at\r\nall possible, can only be effected by an undertaking such as mine.\r\n\r\nThese reflections have dispelled the agitation with which I began my\r\nletter, and I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me\r\nto heaven, for nothing contributes so much to tranquillize the mind as\r\na steady purpose--a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual\r\neye.  This expedition has been the favourite dream of my early years. I\r\nhave read with ardour the accounts of the various voyages which have\r\nbeen made in the prospect of arriving at the North Pacific Ocean\r\nthrough the seas which surround the pole.  You may remember that a\r\nhistory of all the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed the\r\nwhole of our good Uncle Thomas' library.  My education was neglected,\r\nyet I was passionately fond of reading.  These volumes were my study\r\nday and night, and my familiarity with them increased that regret which\r\nI had felt, as a child, on learning that my father's dying injunction\r\nhad forbidden my uncle to allow me to embark in a seafaring life.\r\n\r\nThese visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those poets\r\nwhose effusions entranced my soul and lifted it to heaven.  I also\r\nbecame a poet and for one year lived in a paradise of my own creation;\r\nI imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where the\r\nnames of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated.  You are well\r\nacquainted with my failure and how heavily I bore the disappointment.\r\nBut just at that time I inherited the fortune of my cousin, and my\r\nthoughts were turned into the channel of their earlier bent.\r\n\r\nSix years have passed since I resolved on my present undertaking.  I\r\ncan, even now, remember the hour from which I dedicated myself to this\r\ngreat enterprise.  I commenced by inuring my body to hardship.  I\r\naccompanied the whale-fishers on several expeditions to the North Sea;\r\nI voluntarily endured cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep; I often\r\nworked harder than the common sailors during the day and devoted my\r\nnights to the study of mathematics, the theory of medicine, and those\r\nbranches of physical science from which a naval adventurer might derive\r\nthe greatest practical advantage.  Twice I actually hired myself as an\r\nunder-mate in a Greenland whaler, and acquitted myself to admiration. I\r\nmust own I felt a little proud when my captain offered me the second\r\ndignity in the vessel and entreated me to remain with the greatest\r\nearnestness, so valuable did he consider my services.  And now, dear\r\nMargaret, do I not deserve to accomplish some great purpose?  My life\r\nmight have been passed in ease and luxury, but I preferred glory to\r\nevery enticement that wealth placed in my path.  Oh, that some\r\nencouraging voice would answer in the affirmative!  My courage and my\r\nresolution is firm; but my hopes fluctuate, and my spirits are often\r\ndepressed.  I am about to proceed on a long and difficult voyage, the\r\nemergencies of which will demand all my fortitude:  I am required not\r\nonly to raise the spirits of others, but sometimes to sustain my own,\r\nwhen theirs are failing.\r\n\r\nThis is the most favourable period for travelling in Russia.  They fly\r\nquickly over the snow in their sledges; the motion is pleasant, and, in\r\nmy opinion, far more agreeable than that of an English stagecoach.  The\r\ncold is not excessive, if you are wrapped in furs--a dress which I have\r\nalready adopted, for there is a great difference between walking the\r\ndeck and remaining seated motionless for hours, when no exercise\r\nprevents the blood from actually freezing in your veins.  I have no\r\nambition to lose my life on the post-road between St. Petersburgh and\r\nArchangel. I shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight or three\r\nweeks; and my intention is to hire a ship there, which can easily be\r\ndone by paying the insurance for the owner, and to engage as many\r\nsailors as I think necessary among those who are accustomed to the\r\nwhale-fishing.  I do not intend to sail until the month of June; and\r\nwhen shall I return?  Ah, dear sister, how can I answer this question?\r\nIf I succeed, many, many months, perhaps years, will pass before you\r\nand I may meet.  If I fail, you will see me again soon, or never.\r\nFarewell, my dear, excellent Margaret. Heaven shower down blessings on\r\nyou, and save me, that I may again and again testify my gratitude for\r\nall your love and kindness.\r\n\r\nYour affectionate brother,\r\n  R. Walton\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nLetter 2\r\n\r\n\r\nArchangel, 28th March, 17--\r\n\r\nTo Mrs. Saville, England\r\n\r\nHow slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am by frost and snow!\r\nYet a second step is taken towards my enterprise.  I have hired a\r\nvessel and am occupied in collecting my sailors; those whom I have\r\nalready engaged appear to be men on whom I can depend and are certainly\r\npossessed of dauntless courage.\r\n\r\nBut I have one want which I have never yet been able to satisfy, and\r\nthe absence of the object of which I now feel as a most severe evil, I\r\nhave no friend, Margaret:  when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of\r\nsuccess, there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by\r\ndisappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection. I\r\nshall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true; but that is a poor\r\nmedium for the communication of feeling.  I desire the company of a man\r\nwho could sympathize with me, whose eyes would reply to mine. You may\r\ndeem me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel the want of a\r\nfriend.  I have no one near me, gentle yet courageous, possessed of a\r\ncultivated as well as of a capacious mind, whose tastes are like my\r\nown, to approve or amend my plans.  How would such a friend repair the\r\nfaults of your poor brother!  I am too ardent in execution and too\r\nimpatient of difficulties.  But it is a still greater evil to me that I\r\nam self-educated:  for the first fourteen years of my life I ran wild\r\non a common and read nothing but our Uncle Thomas' books of voyages. At\r\nthat age I became acquainted with the celebrated poets of our own\r\ncountry; but it was only when it had ceased to be in my power to derive\r\nits most important benefits from such a conviction that I perceived the\r\nnecessity of becoming acquainted with more languages than that of my\r\nnative country.  Now I am twenty-eight and am in reality more\r\nilliterate than many schoolboys of fifteen.  It is true that I have\r\nthought more and that my daydreams are more extended and magnificent,\r\nbut they want (as the painters call it) KEEPING; and I greatly need a\r\nfriend who would have sense enough not to despise me as romantic, and\r\naffection enough for me to endeavour to regulate my mind.  Well, these\r\nare useless complaints; I shall certainly find no friend on the wide\r\nocean, nor even here in Archangel, among merchants and seamen.  Yet\r\nsome feelings, unallied to the dross of human nature, beat even in\r\nthese rugged bosoms.  My lieutenant, for instance, is a man of\r\nwonderful courage and enterprise; he is madly desirous of glory, or\r\nrather, to word my phrase more characteristically, of advancement in\r\nhis profession.  He is an Englishman, and in the midst of national and\r\nprofessional prejudices, unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of the\r\nnoblest endowments of humanity.  I first became acquainted with him on\r\nboard a whale vessel; finding that he was unemployed in this city, I\r\neasily engaged him to assist in my enterprise.  The master is a person\r\nof an excellent disposition and is remarkable in the ship for his\r\ngentleness and the mildness of his discipline.  This circumstance,\r\nadded to his well-known integrity and dauntless courage, made me very\r\ndesirous to engage him.  A youth passed in solitude, my best years\r\nspent under your gentle and feminine fosterage, has so refined the\r\ngroundwork of my character that I cannot overcome an intense distaste\r\nto the usual brutality exercised on board ship:  I have never believed\r\nit to be necessary, and when I heard of a mariner equally noted for his\r\nkindliness of heart and the respect and obedience paid to him by his\r\ncrew, I felt myself peculiarly fortunate in being able to secure his\r\nservices.  I heard of him first in rather a romantic manner, from a\r\nlady who owes to him the happiness of her life.  This, briefly, is his\r\nstory.  Some years ago he loved a young Russian lady of moderate\r\nfortune, and having amassed a considerable sum in prize-money, the\r\nfather of the girl consented to the match.  He saw his mistress once\r\nbefore the destined ceremony; but she was bathed in tears, and throwing\r\nherself at his feet, entreated him to spare her, confessing at the same\r\ntime that she loved another, but that he was poor, and that her father\r\nwould never consent to the union.  My generous friend reassured the\r\nsuppliant, and on being informed of the name of her lover, instantly\r\nabandoned his pursuit.  He had already bought a farm with his money, on\r\nwhich he had designed to pass the remainder of his life; but he\r\nbestowed the whole on his rival, together with the remains of his\r\nprize-money to purchase stock, and then himself solicited the young\r\nwoman's father to consent to her marriage with her lover.  But the old\r\nman decidedly refused, thinking himself bound in honour to my friend,\r\nwho, when he found the father inexorable, quitted his country, nor\r\nreturned until he heard that his former mistress was married according\r\nto her inclinations.  \"What a noble fellow!\" you will exclaim.  He is\r\nso; but then he is wholly uneducated:  he is as silent as a Turk, and a\r\nkind of ignorant carelessness attends him, which, while it renders his\r\nconduct the more astonishing, detracts from the interest and sympathy\r\nwhich otherwise he would command.\r\n\r\nYet do not suppose, because I complain a little or because I can\r\nconceive a consolation for my toils which I may never know, that I am\r\nwavering in my resolutions.  Those are as fixed as fate, and my voyage\r\nis only now delayed until the weather shall permit my embarkation.  The\r\nwinter has been dreadfully severe, but the spring promises well, and it\r\nis considered as a remarkably early season, so that perhaps I may sail\r\nsooner than I expected.  I shall do nothing rashly:  you know me\r\nsufficiently to confide in my prudence and considerateness whenever the\r\nsafety of others is committed to my care.\r\n\r\nI cannot describe to you my sensations on the near prospect of my\r\nundertaking.  It is impossible to communicate to you a conception of\r\nthe trembling sensation, half pleasurable and half fearful, with which\r\nI am preparing to depart.  I am going to unexplored regions, to \"the\r\nland of mist and snow,\" but I shall kill no albatross; therefore do not\r\nbe alarmed for my safety or if I should come back to you as worn and\r\nwoeful as the \"Ancient Mariner.\"  You will smile at my allusion, but I\r\nwill disclose a secret.  I have often attributed my attachment to, my\r\npassionate enthusiasm for, the dangerous mysteries of ocean to that\r\nproduction of the most imaginative of modern poets.  There is something\r\nat work in my soul which I do not understand.  I am practically\r\nindustrious--painstaking, a workman to execute with perseverance and\r\nlabour--but besides this there is a love for the marvellous, a belief\r\nin the marvellous, intertwined in all my projects, which hurries me out\r\nof the common pathways of men, even to the wild sea and unvisited\r\nregions I am about to explore. But to return to dearer considerations.\r\nShall I meet you again, after having traversed immense seas, and\r\nreturned by the most southern cape of Africa or America?  I dare not\r\nexpect such success, yet I cannot bear to look on the reverse of the\r\npicture.  Continue for the present to write to me by every opportunity:\r\nI may receive your letters on some occasions when I need them most to\r\nsupport my spirits.  I love you very tenderly.  Remember me with\r\naffection, should you never hear from me again.\r\n\r\nYour affectionate brother,\r\n  Robert Walton\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nLetter 3\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nJuly 7th, 17--\r\n\r\nTo Mrs. Saville, England\r\n\r\nMy dear Sister,\r\n\r\nI write a few lines in haste to say that I am safe--and well advanced\r\non my voyage.  This letter will reach England by a merchantman now on\r\nits homeward voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not\r\nsee my native land, perhaps, for many years.  I am, however, in good\r\nspirits:  my men are bold and apparently firm of purpose, nor do the\r\nfloating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the dangers\r\nof the region towards which we are advancing, appear to dismay them. We\r\nhave already reached a very high latitude; but it is the height of\r\nsummer, and although not so warm as in England, the southern gales,\r\nwhich blow us speedily towards those shores which I so ardently desire\r\nto attain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth which I had not\r\nexpected.\r\n\r\nNo incidents have hitherto befallen us that would make a figure in a\r\nletter.  One or two stiff gales and the springing of a leak are\r\naccidents which experienced navi",
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