Story. Страница 4

A CALL. By Grace MacGowan Cooke (1863- )

A boy in an unnaturally clean, country-laundered collar walked down a long white road. He scuffed the dust up wantonly, for he wished to veil the all-too-brilliant polish of his cowhide shoes. Also the memory of the whiteness and slipperiness of his collar oppressed him. He was fain to look like one accustomed to social diversions, a man hurried from hall to hall of pleasure, without time between to change collar or polish boot. He stooped and rubbed a crumb of earth on his overfresh neck-linen. Знаю, что любите…

BARGAIN DAY AT TUTT HOUSE. By George Randolph Chester (1869- )

I Just as the stage rumbled over the rickety old bridge, creaking and groaning, the sun came from behind the clouds that had frowned all the way, and the passengers cheered up a bit. The two richly dressed matrons who had been so utterly and unnecessarily oblivious to the presence of each other now suspended hostilities for the moment by mutual and unspoken consent, and viewed with relief the little, golden-tinted valley and the tree-clad road just beyond. The respective husbands of these two ladies exchanged…

THE DUPLICITY OF HARGRAVES. By O. Henry (1862–1910)

When Major Pendleton Talbot, of Mobile, sir, and his daughter, Miss Lydia Talbot, came to Washington to reside, they selected for a boarding place a house that stood fifty yards back from one of the quietest avenues. It was an old-fashioned brick building, with a portico upheld by tall white pillars. The yard was shaded by stately locusts and elms, and a catalpa tree in season rained its pink and white blossoms upon the grass. Rows of high box bushes lined the fence and walks. It was the Southern style and…

«Что наша жизнь? Игра!»

Как за жука, клеща и дохлую кошку получить сказочные сокровища и прославиться на весь город.

THE BULLER-PODINGTON COMPACT. By Frank Richard Stockton (1834–1902)

“I tell you, William,” said Thomas Buller to his friend Mr. Podington, “I am truly sorry about it, but I cannot arrange for it this year. Now, as to my invitation—that is very different.” “Of course it is different,” was the reply, “but I am obliged to say, as I said before, that I really cannot accept it.” Знаю, что любите почитать. И подозреваю, что вам понравиться это — папка: Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addlist/c7ngCUTkDLw0ODZi Что-то вы точно захотите почитать, посмотреть или послушать. Загляните.…

The Nice People by Henry Cuyler Bunner

“They certainly are nice people,” I assented to my wife’s observation, using the colloquial phrase with a consciousness that it was anything but “nice” English, “and I’ll bet that their three children are better brought up than most of——” Знаю, что любите почитать. И подозреваю, что вам понравиться это — папка: Сеть Культурных Каналов — https://t.me/addlist/c7ngCUTkDLw0ODZi Что-то вы точно захотите почитать, посмотреть или послушать. Загляните. (☝🏻если ссылка не работает, то обновите Telegram в GooglePlay…

THE HOTEL EXPERIENCE OF MR. PINK FLUKER By Richard Malcolm Johnston (1822–1898)

I Mr. Peterson Fluker, generally called Pink, for his fondness for as stylish dressing as he could afford, was one of that sort of men who habitually seem busy and efficient when they are not. He had the bustling activity often noticeable in men of his size, and in one way and another had made up, as he believed, for being so much smaller than most of his adult acquaintance of the male sex. Prominent among his achievements on that line was getting married to a woman who, among other excellent gifts, had that…

ELDER BROWN’S BACKSLIDE. By Harry Stillwell Edwards

I Elder Brown told his wife good-by at the farmhouse door as mechanically as though his proposed trip to Macon, ten miles away, was an everyday affair, while, as a matter of fact, many years had elapsed since unaccompanied he set foot in the city. He did not kiss her. Many very good men never kiss their wives. But small blame attaches to the elder for his omission on this occasion, since his wife had long ago discouraged all amorous demonstrations on the part of her liege lord, and at this particular moment…

The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County. Mark Twain

In compliance with the request of a friend of mine, who wrote me from the East, I called on good-natured, garrulous old Simon Wheeler, and inquired after my friend's friend, Leonidas W. Smiley, as requested to do, and I hereunto append the result. I have a lurking suspicion that Leonidas W. Smiley is a myth; that my friend never knew such a personage; and that he only conjectured that, if I asked old Wheeler about him, it would remind him of his infamous Jim Smiley, and he would go to work and bore me nearly…

A VISIT TO THE ASYLUM FOR AGED AND DECAYED PUNSTERS. By Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809–1894)

Having just returned from a visit to this admirable Institution in company with a friend who is one of the Directors, we propose giving a short account of what we saw and heard. The great success of the Asylum for Idiots and Feeble-minded Youth, several of the scholars from which have reached considerable distinction, one of them being connected with a leading Daily Paper in this city, and others having served in the State and National Legislatures, was the motive which led to the foundation of this excellent…

MY DOUBLE; AND HOW HE UNDID ME. By Edward Everett Hale (1822–1909)

It is not often that I trouble the readers of The Atlantic Monthly. I should not trouble them now, but for the importunities of my wife, who “feels to insist” that a duty to society is unfulfilled, till I have told why I had to have a double, and how he undid me. She is sure, she says, that intelligent persons cannot understand that pressure upon public servants which alone drives any man into the employment of a double. And while I fear she thinks, at the bottom of her heart, that my fortunes will never be…

TITBOTTOM’S SPECTACLES. By George William Curtis (1824–1892)

In my mind’s eye, Horatio. Prue and I do not entertain much; our means forbid it. In truth, other people entertain for us. We enjoy that hospitality of which no account is made. We see the show, and hear the music, and smell the flowers of great festivities, tasting as it were the drippings from rich dishes. Our own dinner service is remarkably plain, our dinners, even on state occasions, are strictly in keeping, and almost our only guest is Titbottom. Ценность книги определяется не тем, сколько человек её…

THE WATKINSON EVENING. By Eliza Leslie (1787–1858)

Mrs. Morland, a polished and accomplished woman, was the widow of a distinguished senator from one of the western states, of which, also, her husband had twice filled the office of governor. Her daughter having completed her education at the best boarding-school in Philadelphia, and her son being about to graduate at Princeton, the mother had planned with her children a tour to Niagara and the lakes, returning by way of Boston. On leaving Philadelphia, Mrs. Morland and the delighted Caroline stopped at Princeton…