短篇小说 | Keeping Watch
He sighed, and, striking a match, applied it to his pipe and sat smoking thoughtfully.
短篇小说
短篇小说 | The Happy Prince
High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince.
短篇小说 | The Shed Chamber
When a girl goes away from home for the first time, she doesn't expect to hear, 'Courage, brave girl!'
短篇小说 | Pigs Is Pigs
Mike Flannery, the Westcote agent of the Interurban Express Company, leaned over the counter of the express office and shook his fist.
短篇小说 | One Autumn Night
In our present state of culture hunger of the mind is more quickly satisfied than hunger of the body.
短篇小说 | The Picture in the House
Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places. For them are the catacombs of Ptolemais, and the carven mausolea of the nightmare countries.
短篇小说 | Up in Michigan
Jim Gilmore came to Hortons Bay from Canada. He bought the blacksmith shop from old man Horton. Jim was short and dark with big mustaches and big hands.
短篇小说 | The Three Day Blow
The rain stopped as Nick turned into the road that went up through the orchard. The fruit had been picked and the fall wind blew through the bare trees.
短篇小说 | The Boy And The Filberts
A Boy was given permission to put his hand into a pitcher to get some filberts.
短篇小说 | The Snows of Kilimanjaro
THE MARVELLOUS THING IS THAT IT’S painless," he said. "That's how you know when it starts."
短篇小说 | The Revolutionist
In 1919 he was traveling on the railroads in Italy, carrying a square of oilcloth from the headquarters of the party written in indelible pencil and saying here was a comrade who had suffered very much under the Whites in Budapest and requesting comrades to aid him in any way.
短篇小说 | The End of Something
In the old days Hortons Bay was a lumbering town. No one who lived in it was out of sound of the big saws in the mill by the lake. Then one year there were no more logs to make lumber.
