The Sniper
By Liam O’ Flaherty
The long June twilight faded into night.
Dublin lay enveloped in darkness but
for the dim light of the moon that shone through fleecy clouds, casting a pale
light as of approaching dawn over the streets and the dark waters of the Liffey.
Around the beleaguered Four Courts the heavy guns roared.
Here...
Mais
The Sniper By Liam O’ Flaherty The long June twilight faded into night. Dublin lay enveloped in darkness but for the dim light of the moon that shone through fleecy clouds, casting a pale light as of approaching dawn over the streets and the dark waters of the Liffey. Around the beleaguered Four Courts the heavy guns roared. Here and there through the city, machine guns and rifles broke the silence of the night, spasmodically, like dogs barking on lone farms. Republicans and Free Staters were waging civil war. On a rooftop near O’Connell Bridge, a Republican sniper lay watching. Beside him lay his rifle and over his shoulders was slung a pair of field glasses. His face was the face of a student, thin and ascetic, but his eyes had the cold gleam of the fanatic. They were deep and thoughtful, the eyes of a man who is used to looking at death. He was eating a sandwich hungrily. He had eaten nothing since morning. He had been too excited to eat. He finished the sandwich, and, t
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1
The Scarlet Ibis
JAMES HURST
It was in the clove of seasons, summer was dead but autumn
had not yet been born, that the ibis lit in the bleeding tree.
1
The
flower garden was strained with rotting brown magnolia petals and
ironweeds grew rank amid the purple phlox.
The five o clocks by the
chimney still marked time, but...
Mais
1 The Scarlet Ibis JAMES HURST It was in the clove of seasons, summer was dead but autumn had not yet been born, that the ibis lit in the bleeding tree. 1 The flower garden was strained with rotting brown magnolia petals and ironweeds grew rank amid the purple phlox. The five o clocks by the chimney still marked time, but the oriole nest in the elm was untenanted and rocked back and forth like an empty cradle. The last graveyard flowers were blooming, and their smell drifted across the cotton field and through every room of our house, speaking softy the names of our dead. It s strange that all this is still so clear to me, now that summer has long since fled and time has had its way. A grindstone stands where the bleeding tree stood, just outside the kitchen door, and now if an oriole sings in the elm, its song seems to die up in the leaves, a silvery dust. The flower garden is prim, the house a gleaming white, and the pale fence across the yard stands stra
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The Necklace
By Guy de Maupassant© 2006 by http://www.
HorrorMasters.
com
She was one of those pretty and charming girls who are sometimes, as if by a mistake of destiny,
born in a family of clerks.
She had no dowry, no expectations, no means of being known,
understood, loved, wedded, by any rich and distinguished man; and she...
Mais
The Necklace By Guy de Maupassant© 2006 by http://www. HorrorMasters. com She was one of those pretty and charming girls who are sometimes, as if by a mistake of destiny, born in a family of clerks. She had no dowry, no expectations, no means of being known, understood, loved, wedded, by any rich and distinguished man; and she let herself be married to a little clerk at the Ministry of Public Instruction. She dressed plainly because she could not dress well, but she was as unhappy as though she had really fallen from her proper station; since with women there is neither caste nor rank; and beauty, grace, and charm act instead of family and birth. Natural fineness, instinct for what is elegant, suppleness of wit, are the sole hierarchy, and make from women of the people the equals of the very greatest ladies. She suffered ceaselessly, feeling herself born for all the delicacies and all the luxuries. She suffered from the poverty of her dwelling, from the wretched
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The Interlopers
By Saki© 2004 by http://www.
HorrorMasters.
com
In a forest of mixed growth somewhere on the eastern spurs of the Carpathians, a man stood one
winter night watching and listening, as though he waited for some beast of the woods to come
within range of his vision, and, late; of his rifle.
But the game for whose...
Mais
The Interlopers By Saki© 2004 by http://www. HorrorMasters. com In a forest of mixed growth somewhere on the eastern spurs of the Carpathians, a man stood one winter night watching and listening, as though he waited for some beast of the woods to come within range of his vision, and, late; of his rifle. But the game for whose presence he kept so keen an outlook was none that figured in the sportsman s calendar as lawful and proper for the chase; Ulrich von Gradwitz patrolled the dark forest in quest of a human enemy. The forest lands of Gradwitz were of wide extent and well stocked with game; the narrow strip of precipitous woodland that lay on its outskirt was not remarkable for the game it harboured or the shooting it afforded, but it was the most jealously guarded of all its owner s territorial possessions. A famous lawsuit, in the days of his grandfather, had wrested it from the illegal possession of a neighbouring family of petty landowners; the dispossessed par
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1937
OF MICE AND MEN
by John Steinbeck
Copyright John Steinbeck, 1937.
Copyright renewed by John Steinbeck, 1965.
Published by arrangement with Viking Penguin, a division of Penguin
Books USA Inc.
ONE
A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to
the hillside bank and runs deep and green.
The water...
Mais
1937 OF MICE AND MEN by John Steinbeck Copyright John Steinbeck, 1937. Copyright renewed by John Steinbeck, 1965. Published by arrangement with Viking Penguin, a division of Penguin Books USA Inc. ONE A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green. The water is warm too, for it has slipped twinkling over the yellow sands in the sunlight before reaching the narrow pool. On one side of the river the golden foothill slopes curve up to the strong and rocky Gabilan Mountains, but on the valley side the water is lined with trees- willows fresh and green with every spring, carrying in their lower leaf junctures the debris of the winter s flooding; and sycamores with mottled, white, recumbent limbs and branches that arch over the pool. On the sandy bank under the trees the leaves lie deep and so crisp that a lizard makes a great skittering if he runs among them. Rabbits come out of the brush to sit on
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3/5
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T H E G I F T O F
T H E M A G I
BY
O .
H E N R Y
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By William Shakespeare
ROMEO AND JULIET
VOLUME IV BOOK IX
De Ryan.Brown
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THE LADY, OR THE TIGER?
by Frank R.
Stockton
In the very olden time there lived a semi-barbaric king, whose
ideas, though somewhat polished and sharpened by the
progressiveness of distant Latin neighbors, were still large,
florid, and untrammeled, as became the half of him which was
barbaric.
He was a man of exuberant fancy,...
Mais
THE LADY, OR THE TIGER? by Frank R. Stockton In the very olden time there lived a semi-barbaric king, whose ideas, though somewhat polished and sharpened by the progressiveness of distant Latin neighbors, were still large, florid, and untrammeled, as became the half of him which was barbaric. He was a man of exuberant fancy, and, withal, of an authority so irresistible that, at his will, he turned his varied fancies into facts. He was greatly given to self-communing, and, when he and himself agreed upon anything, the thing was done. When every member of his domestic and political systems moved smoothly in its appointed course, his nature was bland and genial; but, whenever there was a little hitch, and some of his orbs got out of their orbits, he was blander and more genial still, for nothing pleased him so much as to make the crooked straight and crush down uneven places. Among the borrowed notions by which his barbarism had become semified was that of the p
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The Odyssey
Translated by Samuel Butler
Homer
Orange Street Press Classics
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The Most Dangerous Game
By Richard Connell
"OFF THERE to the right--somewhere--is a large island," said Whitney.
" It s rather a mystery--"
"What island is it?" Rainsford asked.
"The old charts call it `Ship-Trap Island," Whitney replied.
" A suggestive name, isn t it? Sailors have a
curious dread of the place.
I don t know...
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The Most Dangerous Game By Richard Connell "OFF THERE to the right--somewhere--is a large island," said Whitney. " It s rather a mystery--" "What island is it?" Rainsford asked. "The old charts call it `Ship-Trap Island," Whitney replied. " A suggestive name, isn t it? Sailors have a curious dread of the place. I don t know why. Some superstition--" "Can t see it," remarked Rainsford, trying to peer through the dank tropical night that was palpable as it pressed its thick warm blackness in upon the yacht. "You ve good eyes," said Whitney, with a laugh," and I ve seen you pick off a moose moving in the brown fall bush at four hundred yards, but even you can t see four miles or so through a moonless Caribbean night. " "Nor four yards," admitted Rainsford. "Ugh! It s like moist black velvet. " "It will be light enough in Rio," promised Whitney. "We should make it in a few days. I hope the jaguar guns have come from Purdey s. We should have some good huntin
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