“I think you are tongue-tied,” said Scully finally to his son, the cowboy, and the Easterner; and at the end of this sentence he left the room. Upstairs the Swede was closing his bag. His back was half-turned toward the door
The Palace Hotel at Fort Romper was painted a light blue, a color of blue found on the legs of a certain bird that makes it bright in any surroundings. The Palace Hotel, then, looked always loud and screaming in a way that m
Old Anthony Rockwall, who made millions of dollars by making and selling Rockwall’s soap, stood at the window of his large Fifth Avenue house. He was looking out at his neighbor, G. Van Schuylight Suffolk-Jones. His neighb
As I ended the last part of my story, I was speaking of that terrible evening when I played cards with a young gentleman called Glendinning. We were in the room of one of my friends at Oxford University. I had just realized
You will remember that in the last part of my story I told of my experiences in my first school; I spoke of my early meetings with a boy who looked and behaved as I did – whose name was even the same as mine: William Wilson.
In the first part of my story I spoke about my life at my first school, and about the other boys — over whom I gained firm control. But there was one boy who would not follow my commands, who would not do what I told him to, a
Let me call myself, for the present, William Wilson. That is not my real name. That name has already been the cause of the horror – of the anger of my family. Have not the winds carried my name, with my loss of honor, to the en
I was visiting an old friend of mine, Roderick Usher, in his old stone house, his palace, where a feeling of death hung on the air. I saw how fear was pressing on his heart and mind. Now his only sister, the lady Madeline, had
Roderick Usher, whom I had known as a boy, was now ill and had asked me to come to help him. When I arrived I felt something strange and fearful about the great old stone house, about the lake in front of it, and about Usher h
It was a dark and soundless day near the end of the year, and clouds were hanging low in the heavens. All day I had been riding on horseback through country with little life or beauty; and in the early evening, I came within
Tomorrow I die. Tomorrow I die, and today I want to tell the world what happened and thus perhaps free my soul from the horrible weight which lies upon it. But listen! Listen, and you shall hear how I have been destroyed. W
The Red Death had long been feeding on the country. No sickness had ever been so deadly — so great a killer — or so fearful to see. Blood was its mark — the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and a sudd
"One thousand dollars," said the lawyer Tolman, in a severe and serious voice. "And here is the money.” Young Gillian touched the thin package of $50 bills and laughed. "It's such an unusual amount," he explained kindly to the
JOHN CARTER: The creature with the spear was huge. There were many other similar creatures. They had ridden behind me on the backs of large animals. Each of them carried a collection of strange-looking weapons. The one wi
Today, we begin a series from a book by American writer Edgar Rice Burroughs. The book is called “A Princess of Mars.” It is the first book in a series that Burroughs wrote about a man who travels to Mars during the last ye
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it in the smallest pieces of money - pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by negotiating with the men at the market who sold vegetables and meat. Ne
Our story today is called "To Build a Fire." It was written by Jack London. Here is Harry Monroe with the story. The man walked down the trail on a cold, gray day. Pure white snow and ice covered the Earth for as far as he cou
Our story today is called "Luck." It was written by Mark Twain. Here is Shep O’Neal with the story. I was at a dinner in London given in honor of one of the most celebrated English military men of his time. I do not want to te
Our story today is called “Feathertop.” It was written by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Here is Shep O’Neal with the story. The long cold winter was gone at last. At first the cold nights went away slowly. Then suddenly, the warm d
We present the short story "Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen," by O. Henry. The story was originally adapted and recorded by the U.S. Department of State. There is one day that is ours. There is one day when all Americans go b