Charles E. Van Loan (1876-1919) had, according to the "Philadelphia Public Ledger" "the largest following of men readers of any magazine fiction writer." He wrote prolifically about sports for leading magazines, especially the Saturday Evening Post.

Mr. Anthony Hope is finding out his enviable position. Do what he will, he has the power to please most people. Whatever be his moods, and whatever the quality of his performance, he is never awkward, and elegance of form in any literary matter popularly interesting is so uncommon that gratitude and admiration are widespread and intense in proportion. Now that he is finding this out, it is not surprising that he should take advantage of it, and give pleasure to his numerous admirers as frequently and with as little trouble to himself as possible. It is impertinent to pry into the state of Mr. Hope's soul to see if it is growing demoralised by easy triumphs, but it is quite justifiable to say that a little more effort than is to be found in this book is wanted to keep to the estimate which some sincere but discreet admirers have formed of his powers. The stories here are entertaining, and the youth of fourteen who should disapprove of them would do so from mere dulness. But there are features in it that would lead one to believe they were not written for lads in their early teens. Yet it is not exactly a book for men and women, to whom the tales, excellent in imagining as many of them are, must be spoilt by the artificiality of the mechanism, and the conventionality of all the motives, feelings, and expressions, of the human beings concerned. Mr. Hope is a novelist of power, and he gives us an unimpeachable gift-book of a quality equalled by a dozen boys' story writers any Christmas. His Antonio he calls an outlaw ; but he is the outlaw of a maiden-aunt's or a schoolmaster's imagination—compounded of demi-god and family pastor. True, he appears to us through the narrative of a holy father, but Mr. Hope chose that medium, and if it was unsuitable for the rough record of the wild men who took to the hills, he is responsible.

“For introverts who panic at the idea of networking, Wickre’s book is a deep, calming breath.” —Sophia Dembling, author of The Introvert’s Way Former Google executive, editorial director of Twitter, self-described introvert, and “the best-connected Silicon Valley figure you’ve never heard of” (Walt Mossberg, Wall Street Journal), offers networking advice for anyone who has ever canceled a coffee date due to social anxiety. Learn to nurture a vibrant circle of reliable contacts without leaving your comfort zone. Networking has garnered a reputation as a sort of necessary evil. Some people relish the opportunity to boldly work the room, introduce themselves to strangers, and find common career ground—but for many others, the experience is awkward, or even terrifying. The common networking advice for introverts are variations on the theme of overcoming or “fixing” their quiet tendencies. But Karen Wickre is a self-described introvert who has worked in Silicon Valley for thirty years. She shows you how to embrace your quiet nature and “make genuine connections that last, that we can nurture across the world for all kinds of purposes” (Chris Anderson, head of TED). Karen’s “embrace your quiet side” approach is for anyone who finds themselves shying away from traditional networking activities, or for those who would rather be curled up with a good book on a Friday night than out at a party. With compelling arguments and creative strategies, this “practical, easy-to-use” (Sree Sreenivasan, former chief digital officer of Columbia University) book is a perfect guide.

Most people agree that animals count morally, but how exactly should we take animals into account? A prominent stance in contemporary ethical discussions is that animals have the same moral status that people do, and so in moral deliberation the similar interests of animals and people should be given the very same consideration. In How to Count Animals, more or less, Shelly Kagan sets out and defends a hierarchical approach in which people count more than animals do and some animals count more than others. For the most part, moral theories have not been developed in such a way as to take account of differences in status. By arguing for a hierarchical account of morality - and exploring what status sensitive principles might look like - Kagan reveals just how much work needs to be done to arrive at an adequate view of our duties toward animals, and of morality more generally.

Count ten animals on the endangered species list.