短篇小说 | A Little Talk About Mobs
"Do you think they would have lynched him?" asked the New Yorker, in the next seat of the ferry station, who was also waiting for the boat.
短篇小说
短篇小说 | A Night in Acadie
THERE was nothing to do on the plantation so Telèsphore, having a few dollars in his pocket, thought he would go down and spend Sunday in the vicinity of Marksville.
短篇小说 | Lionizing
I AM - that is to say I was - a great man; but I am neither the author of Junius nor the man in the mask; for my name, I believe, is Robert Jones, and I was born somewhere in the city of Fum-Fudge.
短篇小说 | A Little Local Colour
I mentioned to Rivington that I was in search of characteristic New York scenes and incidents -- some- thing typical, I told him, without necessarily having to spell the first syllable with an "i."
短篇小说 | An Idle Fellow
I am tired. At the end of these years I am very tired. I have been studying in books the languages of the living and those we call dead.
短篇小说 | Ligeia
I Cannot, for my soul, remember how, when, or even precisely where, I first became acquainted with the lady Ligeia. Long years have since elapsed, and my memory is feeble through much suffering.
短篇小说 | A Harlem Tragedy
Mrs. Fink had dropped into Mrs. Cassidy's flat one flight below.
短篇小说 | An Egyptian Cigarette
MY friend, the Architect, who is something of a traveller, was showing us various curios which he had gathered during a visit to the Orient.
短篇小说 | Landor's Cottage
DURING A pedestrian trip last summer, through one or two of the river counties of New York, I found myself, as the day declined, somewhat embarrassed about the road I was pursuing.
短篇小说 | After Twenty Years
The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few.
