July 13: Athenians Also Complained of Taxes (Vol. 12, pp. 47-57)

Harry S. Truman once said that "the only thing new is the history you haven't read." He was a big fan of Plutarch, and he probably loved today's reading.

The citizens of ancient Greece complained about their taxes being too high and how Pericles was spending the money, but as Plutarch tells it, Pericles made sure he used those tax revenues for public works and beautification projects that solidified his support with Athenians. This allowed him the popular support he needed for more ambitious undertakings.

Somewhere, Harry is smiling at that story.

July 12: But He Walked! (Vol. 28, pp. 395-405)

Henry David Thoreau was born this day in 1817, and amazingly, today's essay, "Walking," is the only piece of his in this series.

In 1909, Thoreau apparently wasn't yet seen as the inspiration of environmentalists, freedom fighters, back-to-the-landers and every person who ever wanted to drop out of society and live simply and as close to nature as possible.

Not including "Walden" or his essay "Civil Disobedience" is one of the more glaring omissions of this series.

July 11: Star Gazing — A Cure for Tired Minds (Vol. 30, pp. 311-321)

Astronomer and scientist Simon Newcomb died this day in 1909. Today's selection, "The Extent of the Universe," was written in 1906 and is the most modern entry in the volume of scientific writings.

It is a good glimpse into how much the pioneers in the field of astronomy opened the door for all the subsequent explorers of space. It's truly amazing how well Newcomb's work holds up today, considering it was written in an age before supercomputers and space telescopes.

And he offers this advice: go outside on a clear, moonless night and look up at the Milky Way. If you live in a place where light pollution is at a minimum, savor the view and be humbled by its magnificence.

July 10: America's First Immigrants (Vol. 43, pp. 14-20)

The Vikings beat Columbus to the New World by several centuries, and today's reading, "The Voyages to Vinland," tells some of the story. Unfortunately, what should be an exciting story is rendered into something not interesting here.

July 9: A Little Lying Now and Then (Vol. 3, pp. 7-19)

Sir Francis Bacon became Privy Councilor this day in 1616. In this reading, Bacon offers his attempt to answer the eternal question, "What is truth?"

Bacon finds that absolute truth is important in theological or philosophical principles, but in what he calls "the truth of civil business ... clear and round dealing in the honor of man's nature" and that the mixture of falsehood "is like allow in gold and silver, which may make the metal work better, but it embaseth it."

A touch of falsehood may make a man feel better, Bacon says, and the elimination of it from daily affairs would "leave the minds of a number of men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and imposition."

In other words, without white lies and rationalizations, we would all have a tough time getting through each day.

July 8: Italy's Fair Assassin (Vol. 18, pp. 288-300)

Percy Bysshe Shelley drowned this day in 1822, so we get his play, "Cenci." As dramas go, this one sinks to the bottom.

July 7: Scandal That Lurked Behind Lace and Powder (Vol. 18, pp. 115-128)

English playwright and politician Richard Brinsley Sheridan was buried in Westminister Abbey on this day in 1816. With characters named Snake, Backbite, Careless and Sneerwell, there's little doubt about what Sheridan's most famous play, "The School for Scandal," is about – reckless gossip and scandal loosed upon the land, couched in the stuffiness of 18th century nobility.