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Ladies by Anton Chekhov FYODOR PETROVITCH the Director of Elementary Schools in the N. District, who considered himself a just and generous man, was one

La Belle Zoraïde by Kate Chopin The summer night was hot and still; not a ripple of air swept over the marais. Yonder, across Bayou

by Anthony Trollope from Tales from All Countries. The Pyreneean valley in which the baths of Vernet are situated is not much known to English,

by Alice Dunbar-Nelson If you never lived in Mandeville, you cannot appreciate the thrill of wholesome, satisfied joy which sweeps over its inhabitants every evening

by Bret Harte Lanty Foster was crouching on a low stool before the dying kitchen fire, the better to get its fading radiance on the

Landor’s Cottage by Edgar Allan Poe DURING A pedestrian trip last summer, through one or two of the river counties of New York, I found

by William Dean Howells The Indians seem to have kept on carrying the whites into captivity, to the very end of the war, which closed

by Guy de Maupassant It was the end of the dinner that opened the shooting season. The Marquis de Bertrans with his guests sat around

by Rex Ellingwood Beach Mr. William Hyde was discharged from Deer Lodge Penitentiary a changed man. That was quite in line with the accepted theory

by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu In the five Northumbrian counties you will scarcely find so bleak, ugly, and yet, in a savage way, so picturesque

by H.H. Munro (SAKI) “You are not really dying, are you?” asked Amanda. “I have the doctor’s permission to live till Tuesday,” said Laura. “But

by O. Henry I found myself in Texas recently, revisiting old places and vistas. At a sheep ranch where I had sojourned many years ago,

by Jack London THE bronze clangor of the cathedral bells marks the hours. Out of the night day bursts with an abruptness of light and

by W. W. Jacobs Lawyer Quince, so called by his neighbours in Little Haven from his readiness at all times to place at their disposal

by Leonid Andreyev I When Lazarus rose from the grave, after three days and nights in the mysterious thraldom of death, and returned alive to

by P. G. Wodehouse Jeeves–my man, you know–is really a most extraordinary chap. So capable. Honestly, I shouldn’t know what to do without him. On

by Mark Twain –[Left out of “A Tramp Abroad” because its authenticity seemed doubtful, and could not at that time be proved.–M. T.] More than

by Guy de Maupassant I had first seen it from Cancale, this fairy castle in the sea. I got an indistinct impression of it as

Legends of the Province House: II. Edward Randolph’s Portrait by Nathaniel Hawthorne The old legendary guest of the Province House abode in my remembrance from

Legends of the Province House: I. Howe’s Masquerade by Nathaniel Hawthorne One afternoon, last summer, while walking along Washington Street, my eye was attracted by

Legends of the Province House: III. Lady Eleanore’s Mantle by Nathaniel Hawthorne Mine excellent friend, the landlord of the Province House, was pleased, the other

by Carl Stephenson Leiningen Versus the Ants is one of my favorite short stories of all time. There seems to be some debate as to