James Joyce (1882-1941) was an Irish novelist and poet considered to be one of the most influential writers of the early 20th century. Joyce was born and raised in Dublin
To the Man on the Trail by Jack London
To the Man on the Trail
by Jack London
‘Dump it in!.’ ‘But I say, Kid, isn’t that going it a little too strong? Whisky and alcohol’s bad enough
After Twenty Years by O. Henry
The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few.
What Christmas is as We Grow Older by Charles Dickens
Time was, with most of us, when Christmas Day encircling all our limited world like a magic ring, left nothing out for us to miss or seek; bound together all our home enjoyments
The Heavenly Christmas Tree by Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Heavenly Christmas Tree by Fyodor Dostoevsky I am a novelist, and I suppose I have made up this story. I write “I suppose,” though I know for a fact that I have made it up, but yet I keep fancying that it must have happened somewhere at some time, that it must have […]
Two Gallants by James Joyce
The grey warm evening of August had descended upon the city and a mild warm air, a memory of summer, circulated in the streets.
The Skylight Room by O.Henry
The Skylight Room by O.Henry First Mrs. Parker would show you the double parlours. You would not dare to interrupt her description of their advantages and of the merits of the gentleman who had occupied them for eight years. Then you would manage to stammer forth the confession that you were neither a doctor nor […]
Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen by O.Henry
There is one day that is ours. There is one day when all we Americans who are not self-made go back to the old home to eat saleratus biscuits and marvel how much nearer to the porch the old pump looks than it used to.
From the Cabby’s Seat by O.Henry
The cabby has his point of view. It is more single-minded, perhaps, than that of a follower of any other calling. From the high, swaying seat of his hansom
The Gold-Bug by Edgar Allan Poe
William Legrand, who discovers a peculiar gold-colored beetle while on Sullivan’s Island in South Carolina. Legrand is obsessed with the scarab beetle and makes drawings of it. Later, Legrand receives a scrap of parchment paper with a cryptic coded
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