1   71 readings 3 min
There was a handful of clay in the bank of a river. It was only common clay, coarse and heavy; but it had high thoughts of its own value, and wonderful dreams of the great place which it was to fill ... [+]

2   218 readings 2 min
 Stream of Consciousness   20th Century  
Whatever hour you woke there was a door shutting. From room to room they went, hand in hand, lifting here, opening there, making sure–a ghostly couple.
"Here we left it," she said. And he added, ... [+]

0   33 readings 3 min
The short essay on “The Improbability of the Infinite” which I was planning for you yesterday will now never be written. Last night my brain was crammed with lofty thoughts on the ... [+]

0   48 readings 3 min
 20th Century   Realism  
Here is the queer story of David William Duck, related by himself. Duck is an old man living in Aurora, Illinois, where he is universally respected. He is commonly known, however, as "Dead ... [+]

1   36 readings 2 min
 20th Century   Realism  
Some one has revealed to the TRIBUNE that I once suggested to Rev. Thomas K. Beecher, of Elmira, New York, that we get up a monument to Adam, and that Mr. Beecher favored the project. There is more to... [+]

0   46 readings 4 min
 Realism   20th Century   Local Colour  
AT 8 a.m. it lay on Giuseppi's news-stand, still damp from the presses. Giuseppi, with the cunning of his ilk, philandered on the opposite comer, leaving his patrons to help themselves, no doubt ... [+]

1   49 readings 1 min
 20th Century   Local Colour  
In the northern part of Austin there once dwelt an honest family by the name of Smothers. The family consisted of John Smothers, his wife, himself, their little daughter, five years of age, and her ... [+]

1   35 readings 3 min
 20th Century   Realism  
In the summer of 1896 Mr. William Holt, a wealthy manufacturer of Chicago, was living temporarily in a little town of central New York, the name of which the writer's memory has not retained. Mr. ... [+]

0   44 readings 4 min
 20th Century   Local Colour  
The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few. The time was barely 10 o'clock at night, but chilly gusts of ... [+]