Chapter 1It was many years ago. Hadleyburg was the most honest and upright town in all the region round about. It had kept that reputation unsmirched during three generations, and was prouder of it than of any other of its possessions. It was so prou

发表于:2018-12-31 / 阅读(141) / 评论(0) 分类 马克吐温最佳短篇小说

Chapter 1Lakeside was a pleasant little town of five or six thousand inhabitants, and a rather pretty one, too, as towns go in the Far West. It had church accommodations for thirty-five thousand, which is the way of the Far West and the South, where

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SATURDAY -- I am almost a whole day old, now. I arrived yesterday. That is as it seems to me. And it must be so, for if there was a day-before-yesterday I was not there when it happened, or I should remember it. It could be, of course, that it did ha

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Cannibalism In The Cars by Mark TwainI visited St. Louis lately, and on my way West, after changing cars at Terre Haute, Indiana, a mild, benevolent-looking gentleman of about forty-five, or maybe fifty, came in at one of the way-stations and sat dow

发表于:2018-12-06 / 阅读(141) / 评论(0) 分类 马克吐温最佳短篇小说

[Left out of A Tramp Abroad, because it was feared that some of the particulars had been exaggerated, and that others were not true. Before these suspicions had been proven groundless, the book had gone to press. --M. T.] Chapter 1The following curio

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MONDAY.--This new creature with the long hair is a good deal in the way. It is always hanging around and following me about. I don't like this; I am not used to company. I wish it would stay with the other animals.... Cloudy today, wind in the east;

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You have heard from a great many people who did something in the war; is it not fair and right that you listen a little moment to one who started out to do something in it, but didn`t? Thousands entered the war, got just a taste of it, and then stepp

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The conversation drifted smoothly and pleasantly along from weather to crops, from crops to literature, from literature to scandal, from scandal to religion; then took a random jump, and landed on the subject of burglar alarms. And now for the first

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Animals talk to each other, of course. There can be no question about that; but I suppose there are very few people who can understand them. I never knew but one man who could. I knew he could, however, because he told me so himself. He was a middle-

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A True Story Repeated Word for Word as I Heard ItIt was summer time, and twilight. We were sitting on the porch of the farm-house, on the summit of the hill, and Aunt Rachel was sitting respectfully below our level, on the steps, for she was our serv

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Mr. A. Ward,Dear Sir: -- Well, I called on good-natured, garrulous old Simon Wheeler, and inquired after your friend, Leonidas W. Smiley, as you requested me to do, and I hereunto append the result. If you can get any information out of it you are co

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Once there was a bad little boy, whose name was Jim -- though, if you will notice, you will find that bad little boys are nearly always called James in your Sunday-school books. It was very strange, but still it was true, that this one was called Jim

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I was feeling blithe, almost jocund. I put a match to my cigar, and just then the morning's mailwas handed in. The first superscription I glanced at was in a handwriting that sent a thrill ofpleasure through and through me. It was aunt Mary's; and sh

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Will the reader please to cast his eye over the following verses , and see if he can discover anything harmful in them? Conductor, when you receive a fare,Punch in the presence of the passenjare! A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare,A buff trip sl

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Here I was interrupted and informed that a stranger wished to see me down at the door. I went and confronted him, and asked to know his business, struggling all the time to keep a tight rein on my seething political economy ideas, and not let them br

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The editor of the Memphis Avalanche swoops thus mildly down upon a correspondent who posted him as a Radical: While he was writing the first word, the middle, dotting his i's, crossing his t's, and punching his period, he knew he was concocting a sen

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[The following has been written at the instance of several literary friends, who thought that if the history of The Bad Little Boy who Did not Come to Grief (a moral sketch which I published five or six years ago) was worthy of preservation several w

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I did not take the temporary editorship of an agriculture paper without misgivings. Neither would a landsman take, command of a ship without misgivings. But I was in circumstances that made the salary an object. The regular editor of the paper was go

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