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by Mark Twain [Written about 1865.] Our esteemed friend, Mr. John William Bloke, of Virginia City, walked into the office where we are sub-editor at

by Ellis Parker Butler On the sixteenth of June Mr. Rollin Billings entered his home at Westcote very much later than usual, and stealing upstairs,

by H.G. Wells “You can’t be too careful who you marry,” said Mr. Brisher, and pulled thoughtfully with a fat-wristed hand at the lank moustache

by Richard Connell §1 “This,” said Mr. William Lum solemnly, “is the very las’ bottle of this stuff in these United States!” It was a

Mr. Higginbotham’s Catastrophe by Nathaniel Hawthorne A young fellow, a tobacco pedlar by trade, was on his way from Morristown, where he had dealt largely

by F. Scott Fitzgerald THE QUINTESSENCE OF QUAINTNESS IN ONE ACT The Scene is the Exterior of a Cottage in West Issacshire on a desperately

by M.R. James About fifteen years ago, on a date late in August or early in September, a train drew up at Wilsthorpe, a country

by Bret Harte Very little was known of her late husband, yet that little was of a sufficiently awe-inspiring character to satisfy the curiosity of

by H.G. Wells My friend, Mr. Ledbetter, is a round-faced little man, whose natural mildness of eye is gigantically exaggerated when you catch the beam

by Richard Connell Out of the bathtub, rubicund and rotund, stepped Mr. Ambrose Pottle. He anointed his hair with sweet spirits of lilac and dusted

by Richard Connell “Ambrose! Ambrose dear!” The new Mrs. Pottle put down the book she was reading–Volume Dec to Erd of the encyclopedia. “Yes, Blossom

by Richard Connell §1 “He wouldn’t give a cent,” announced Mrs. Pottle, blotting up the nucleus of a tear on her cheek with the tip

by Richard Connell §1 Mr. Pottle was a barber, but also a man of imagination, and as his hands went through their accustomed motions, his

by Katherine Mansfield IF there was one thing that he hated more than another it was the way she had of waking him in the

by Fyodor Dostoevsky The text is from The Macmillan Company’s, 1918 publication “White Nights”, from the Russian by Constance Garnett. In the darkest and humblest

by Rudyard Kipling The day that I chose to visit H.M.S. _Peridot_ in Simon’s Bay was the day that the Admiral had chosen to send

by Charles Dickens In the parlour of the Green Dragon, a public-house in the immediate neighbourhood of Westminster Bridge, everybody talks politics, every evening, the

by W. W. Jacobs Matilda stood at the open door of a house attached to a wharf situated in that dreary district which bears the

Mrs. Bullfrog by Nathaniel Hawthorne It makes me melancholy to see how like fools some very sensible people act in the matter of choosing wives.

by Anthony Trollope Why Mrs. General Talboys first made up her mind to pass the winter of 1859 at Rome I never clearly understood. To

by William Dean Howells It was on a morning of the lovely New England May that we left the horse- car, and, spreading our umbrellas,

by H.G. Wells “There’s a man in that shop,” said the Doctor, “who has been in Fairyland.” “Nonsense!” I said, and stared back at the

by Charles Dickens CHAPTER I–HOW MRS. LIRRIPER CARRIED ON THE BUSINESS Whoever would begin to be worried with letting Lodgings that wasn’t a lone woman

by Charles Dickens CHAPTER I — MRS. LIRRIPER RELATES HOW SHE WENT ON, AND WENT OVER Ah! It’s pleasant to drop into my own easy-chair