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by Katherine Mansfield FROM eight o’clock in the morning until about half past eleven Monica Tyrell suffered from her nerves, and suffered so terribly that

by Kate Chopin Maman-Nainaine said that when the figs were ripe Babette might go to visit her cousins down on Bayou-Boeuf, where the sugar cane

by Mark Twain One of the best men in Washington–or elsewhere–is RILEY, correspondent of one of the great San Francisco dailies. Riley is full of

by Rudyard Kipling At the hole where he went in Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin. Hear what little Red-Eye saith: “Nag, come up and dance with

by Kathleen Norris If only my poor child had a sensible mother,” said Mrs. Tressady, calmly, “I suppose we would get Big Hong’s ‘carshen’ for

by Washington Irving A POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER By Woden, God of Saxons, From whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday, Truth is a thing

by W. W. Jacobs “If you hadn’t asked me,” said the night watchman, “I should never have told you; but, seeing as you’ve put the

by Jack London Every once in a while, in newspapers, magazines, and biographical dictionaries, I run upon sketches of my life, wherein, delicately phrased, I

by O. Henry I go to seek on many roads What is to be. True heart and strong, with love to light– Will they not

by D. H. Lawrence There was a woman who was beautiful, who started with all the advantages, yet she had no luck. She married for

by Lucy Maud Montgomery When Robert Turner came to the green, ferny triangle where the station road forked to the right and left under the

Roger Malvin’s Burial by Nathaniel Hawthorne One of the few incidents of Indian warfare naturally susceptible of the moonlight of romance was that expedition undertaken

by Mark Twain This Man Rogers happened upon me and introduced himself at the town of —–, in the South of England, where I stayed

by T.S. Arthur “I met with a most splendid girl last evening,” remarked to his friend a young man, whose fine, intellectual forehead, and clear

by Guy de Maupassant There was a real mystery in this affair which neither the jury, nor the president, nor the public prosecutor himself could

Rosa Alchemica by William Butler Yeats O blessed and happy he, who knowing the mysteries of the gods, sanctifies his life, and purifies his soul,

by Kathleen Norris In the sunny morning-room there prevailed an atmosphere of business. Rosemary, at the desk, was rapidly writing notes and addressing envelopes. Theodore,

by Guy de Maupassant The two young women appear to be buried under a blanket of flowers. They are alone in the immense landau, which

by O. Henry Ravenel — Ravenel, the traveller, artist and poet, threw his magazine to the floor. Sammy Brown, broker’s clerk, who sat by the

by Louisa May Alcott I ROSES It was a cold November storm, and everything looked forlorn. Eventhe pert sparrows were draggle-tailed and too much out

Rothschild’s Fiddle by Anton Chekhov THE town was a little one, worse than a village, and it was inhabited by scarcely any but old people

by Louisa May Alcott This short story appeared in The Louisa May Alcott Reader: A Supplementary Reader for the Fourth Year of School in 1908.

by O. Henry It has been indicated that disaffection followed the elevation of Losada to the presidency. This feeling continued to grow. Throughout the entire

by O. Henry “Find yo’ shirt all right, Sam?” asked Mrs. Webber, from her chair under the live-oak, where she was comfortably seated with a