短篇小说 | Shadow

2020年1月26日

YE who read are still among the living; but I who write shall have long since gone my way into the region of shadows.

短篇小说 | A Turkey Hunt

2020年1月26日

Artemise, for some unknown reason, had hidden herself during the search behind the hen-house, and had heard their muffled gobble.

短篇小说 | Philosophy of Furniture

2020年1月25日

In the internal decoration, if not in the external architecture of their residences, the English are supreme. The Italians have but little sentiment beyond marbles and colours.

短篇小说 | Old English Poetry

2020年1月24日

In common with all the world, we have been much delighted with "The Shepherd's Hunting" by Withers--a poem partaking, in a remarkable degree, of the peculiarities of "Il Penseroso." Speaking of Poesy the author says:

短篇小说 | An Apology

2020年1月24日

We have missed two issues of The Rolling Stone, and are now slightly convalescent, for which we desire to apologize and express our regrets.

短篇小说 | Athénaïse

2020年1月24日

"Listen, Cazeau! How Juliette's baby is crying! Pauvre ti chou, I wonder w'at is the matter with it?"

短篇小说 | Never Bet the Devil Your Head

2020年1月23日

"Con tal que las costumbres de un autor ," says Don Thomas de las Torres, in the preface to his "Amatory Poems" "sean puras y castas, importo muy poco que no sean igualmente severas sus obras" -- meaning, in plain English, that, provided the morals of an author are pure personally, it signifies nothing what are the morals of his books.

短篇小说 | An Afternoon Miracle

2020年1月23日

At the United States end of an international river bridge, four armed rangers sweltered in a little 'dobe hut, keeping a fairly faithful espionage upon the lagging trail of passengers from the Mexican side.