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A brilliant, far-reaching collection of stories from Washington Irving to John Updike.

The Classic Stories
Edgar Allan Poe's Ms. Found in a Bottle, Bret Harte's The Outcasts of Poker Flat, Sherwood Anderson's Death in the Woods, Stephen Vincent Benét's By the Waters of Babylon.

The Little-Known Masterpieces
Edith Wharton's The Dilettante, Finley Peter Dunne's Mr. Dooley on the Popularity of Fireman, Charles M. Flandrau's A Dead Issue, James Reid Parker's The Archimandrite's Niece.

精彩书摘

On a stormy night, in the tempestuous times of the French Revolution, a young German was returning to his lodgings, at a late hour, across the old part of Paris. The lightning gleamed, and the loud claps of thunder rattled through the lofty narrow streets—but I should first tell you something about this young German.

Gottfried Wolfgang was a young man of good family. He had studied for some time at Gottingen, but being of a visionary and enthusiastic character, he had wandered into those wild and speculative doctrines which have so often bewildered German students. His secluded life, his intense application, and the singular nature of his studies, had an effect on both mind and body. His health was impaired; his imagination diseased. He had been indulging in fanciful speculations on spiritual essences, until, like Swedenborg, he had an ideal world of his own around him. He took up a notion, I do not know from what cause, that there was an evil influence hanging over him; an evil genius or spirit seeking to ensnare him and ensure his perdition. Such an idea working on his melancholy temperament produced the most gloomy effects. He became haggard and desponding. His friends discovered the mental malady preying upon him, and determined that the best cure was a change of scene; he was sent, therefore, to finish his studies amidst the splendors and gayeties of Paris.

Wolfgang arrived at Paris at the breaking out of the revolution. The popular delirium at first caught his enthusiastic mind, and he was captivated by the political and philosophical theories of the day: but the scenes of blood which followed shocked his sensitive nature, disgusted him with society and the world, and made him more than ever a recluse. He shut himself up in a solitary apartment in the Pays Latin, the quarter of students. There, in a gloomy street not far from the monastic walls of the Sorbonne, he pursued his favorite speculations. Sometimes he spent hours together in the great libraries of Paris, those catacombs of departed authors, rummaging among their hoards of dusty and obsolete works in quest of food for his unhealthy appetite. He was, in a manner, a literary ghoul, feeding in the charnel-house of decayed literature.

Wolfgang, though solitary and recluse, was of an ardent temperament, but for a time it operated merely upon his imagination. He was too shy and ignorant of the world to make any advances to the fair, but he was a passionate admirer of female beauty, and in his lonely chamber would often lose himself in reveries on forms and faces which he had seen, and his fancy would deck out images of loveliness far surpassing the reality.

While his mind was in this excited and sublimated state, a dream produced an extraordinary effect upon him. It was of a female face of transcendent beauty. So strong was the impression made, that he dreamt of it again and again. It haunted his thoughts by day, his slumbers by night; in fine, he became passionately enamoured of this shadow of a dream. This lasted so long that it became one of those fixed ideas which haunt the minds of melancholy men, and are at times mistaken for madness.

Such was Gottfried Wolfgang, and such his situation at the time I mentioned. He was returning home late one stormy night, through some of the old and gloomy streets of the Marais, the ancient part of Paris. The loud claps of thunder rattled among the high houses of the narrow streets. He came to the Place de Greve, the square, where public executions are performed. The lightning quivered about the pinnacles of the ancient Hotel de Ville, and shed flickering gleams over the open space in front. As Wolfgang was crossing the square, he shrank back with horror at finding himself close by the guillotine. It was the height of the reign of terror, when this dreadful instrument of death stood ever ready, and its scaffold was continually running with the blood of the virtuous and the brave. It had that very day been actively employed in the work of carnage, and there it stood in grim array, amidst a silent and sleeping city, waiting for fresh victims.

Wolfgang's heart sickened within him, and he was turning shuddering from the horrible engine, when he beheld a shadowy form, cowering as it were at the foot of the steps which led up to the scaffold. A succession of vivid flashes of lightning revealed it more distinctly. It was a female figure, dressed in black. She was seated on one of the lower steps of the scaffold, leaning forward, her face hid in her lap; and her long dishevelled tresses hanging to the ground, streaming with the rain which fell in torrents. Wolfgang paused. There was something awful in this solitary monument of woe. The female had the appearance of being above the common order. He knew the times to be full of vicissitude, and that many a fair head, which had once been pillowed on down, now wandered houseless. Perhaps this was some poor mourner whom the dreadful axe had rendered desolate, and who sat here heart-broken on the strand of existence, from which all that was dear to her had been launched into eternity.

He approached, and addressed her in the accents of sympathy. She raised her head and gazed wildly at him. What was his astonishment at beholding, by the bright glare of the lightning, the very face which had haunted him in his dreams. It was pale and disconsolate, but ravishingly beautiful.
Trembling with violent and conflicting emotions, Wolfgang again accosted her. He spoke something of her being exposed at such an hour of the night, and to the fury of such a storm, and offered to conduct her to her friends. She pointed to the guillotine with a gesture of dreadful signification.

"I have no friend on earth!" said she.

"But you have a home," said Wolfgang.

"Yes—in the grave!"

The heart of the student melted at the words.

"If a stranger dare make an offer," said he, "without danger of being misunderstood, I would offer my humble dwelling as a shelter; myself as a devoted friend. I am friendless myself in Paris, and a stranger in the land; but if my life could be of service, it is at your disposal, and should be sacrificed before harm or indignity should come to you."

There was an honest earnestness in the young man's manner that had its effect. His foreign accent, too, was in his favor; it showed him not to be a hackneyed inhabitant of Paris. Indeed, there is an eloquence in true enthusiasm that is not to be doubted. The homeless stranger confided herself implicitly to the protection of the student.

He supported her faltering steps across the Pont Neuf, and by the place where the statue of Henry the Fourth had been overthrown by the populace. The storm had abated, and the thunder rumbled at a distance. All Paris was quiet; that great volcano of human passion slumbered for a while, to gather fresh strength for the next day's eruption. The student conducted his charge through the ancient streets of the Pays Latin, and by the dusky walls of the Sorbonne, to the great dingy hotel which he inhabited. The old portress who admitted them stared with surprise at the unusual sight of the melancholy Wolfgang, with a female companion.

On entering his apartment, the student, for the first time, blushed at the scantiness and indifference of his dwelling. He had but one chamber—an old-fashioned saloon—heavily carved, and fantastically furnished with the remains of former magnificence, for it was one of those hotels in the quarter of the Luxembourg palace, which had once belonged to nobility. It was lumbered with books and papers, and all the usual apparatus of a student, and his bed stood in a recess at one end.

When lights were brought, and Wolfgang had a better opportunity of contemplating the stranger, he was more than ever intoxicated by her beauty. Her face was pale, but of a dazzling fairness, set off by a profusion of raven hair that hung clustering about it. Her eyes were large and brilliant, with a singular expression approaching almost to wildness. As far as her black dress permitted her shape to be seen, it was of perfect symmetry. Her whole appearance was highly striking, though she was dressed in the simplest style. The only thing approaching to an ornament which she wore, was a broad black band round her neck, clasped by diamonds.
Fifty Great American Short Stories美国短篇小说精粹50篇 英文原版 [平装] 电子书 下载 mobi epub pdf txt

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打开书本，书装帧精美，纸张很干净，文字排版看起来非常舒服非常的惊喜，让人看得欲罢不能，每每捧起这本书的时候 似乎能够感觉到作者毫无保留的把作品呈现在我面前。 作业深入浅出的写作手法能让本人犹如身临其境一般，好似一杯美式咖啡，看似快餐，其实值得回味 无论男女老少，第一印象最重要。”从你留给别人的第一印象中，就可以让别人看出你是什么样的人。所以多读书可以让人感觉你知书答礼，颇有风度。 多读书，可以让你多增加一些课外知识。培根先生说过：“知识就是力量。”不错，多读书，增长了课外知识，可以让你感到浑身充满了一股力量。这种力量可以激励着你不断地前进，不断地成长。从书中，你往往可以发现自己身上的不足之处，使你不断地改正错误，摆正自己前进的方向。所以，书也是我们的良师益友。 多读书，可以让你变聪明，变得有智慧去战胜对手。书让你变得更聪明，你就可以勇敢地面对困难。让你用自己的方法来解决这个问题。这样，你又向你自己的人生道路上迈出了一步。 多读书，也能使你的心情便得快乐。读书也是一种休闲，一种娱乐的方式。读书可以调节身体的血管流动，使你身心健康。所以在书的海洋里遨游也是一种无限快乐的事情。用读书来为自己放松心情也是一种十分明智的。 读书能陶冶人的情操，给人知识和智慧。所以，我们应该多读书，为我们以后的人生道路打下好的、扎实的基础！读书养性，读书可以陶冶自己的性情，使自己温文尔雅，具有书卷气；读书破万卷，下笔如有神，多读书可以提高写作能力，写文章就才思敏捷；旧书不厌百回读，熟读深思子自知，读书可以提高理解能力，只要熟读深思，你就可以知道其中的道理了；读书可以使自己的知识得到积累，君子学以聚之。总之，爱好读书是好事。让我们都来读书吧。 其实读书有很多好处,就等有心人去慢慢发现. 最大的好处是可以让你有属于自己的本领靠自己生存。 最后在好评一下京东客服服务态度好，送货相当快,包装仔细！这个也值得赞美下 希望京东这样保持下去，越做越好

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包装看上去很普通，就是一个袋子，但是京东的快递运输比较小心，所以到手时还是没有问题，全新，正版。慢慢寒冬，下午一个人，喝着茶，守着加湿器和电暖气，读点书，生活需要不就是这种安逸吗？书的内容需要慢慢品读，再好的书，也不如自己的故事。这些天，我几乎除了吃饭和睡觉，一切时间都耗费在这本来自遥远国度的小说里。然而我还得在抱怨的同时，不得不承认它的杰出与迷人。很少见到这样迷人的异国风情。这充满着英国十九世纪趣味的故事里，让我感慨了很多。其实我应该早些接触这本书，早就有很多的人介绍它了。可惜，我拥有着一点排外的情愫，一直拖到现在去欣赏它，实在有些相见恨晚。人的一生中之所以能不断提高，与其始终如一的学习是分不开的，所谓活到老学到老，庄子说，吾生也有涯，而知无涯。知识是没有穷尽的，坚持学习让人始终处于不败之地。反之，没有知识的不断补充和积累，人便会落后于时代。歌德说过，谁落后于时代，就将承受那个时代所有的痛苦。特别是在现今知识爆炸的年代里，不能接触新的知识便会被时代所淘汰。读书的好处有很多.给你介绍以下几点: 1.可以使我们增长见识,不出门,便可知天下事. 2.可提高我们的阅读能力和写作水平. 3.可以使我们变的有修养. 4.可以使我们找到好工作. 5.可以使我们在竞争激烈的社会立于不败之地. ...... 其实读书有很多好处,就等有心人去慢慢发现. 最大的好处是可以让你有属于自己的本领靠自己生存。 让你的生活过得更充实，学习到不同的东西。感受世界的不同。网购己成习惯!正版，便宜，快捷，非常满意 闲暇之余，有人乐于下棋、玩麻将；有人喜欢打牌、酗酒、游山逛水；余独爱书。为消遣而读书，常见于独处退居之时，为装饰而读书，多用于高谈阔论之中；为增长才干而读书，主要在于对事物的判断和处理。 读书费时太多是怠惰，过分的藻饰装璜是矫情，全按书本条文而断事是十足的学究气。读书使天然得以完善，又需靠经验以补其不足，因为天生的才能犹如天然的树木，要靠后来的学习来修剪整枝，而书本上的道理如不用经验加以制约，往往是泛泛而不着边际的。 读书不可专为反驳作者而争辩，也不可轻易相信书中所言，以为当然如此，也不是为了寻找谈话资料。而应当权衡轻重，认真思考。有些书浅尝即可，另一些不妨吞咽，少数书则须咀嚼消化。这就是说，有的书只要读其中一部分，有的可以大致浏览，少数则须通读，读时要全神贯注，勤奋不懈。有些书也可请人代读，取其所需作摘要，但这只限于题材不大重要和质量不高的作品。

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速度很快，质量很好。

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没看，不过值得珍藏，活动时候买还是合算的。

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反正质量没问题的，呵呵

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学习下遣词用句，充充电

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适合我在飞机上打发时间，了解美国文化。大小也挺合适的。

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很好哦！

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。　　葛二郎气忿地道：“那么，莫非就这么算了不成？”　　“当然不能这么就算了！”　　“堡主的意思……”　　“当年我们五兄弟，如今只剩下二人。”　　他恨恨地道：“老三‘炼魂刀’云中令、老四‘金铃小瘟神’夏侯忠，以及老五‘飞流星’贯大野都先后死了！”　　“老实说！”　　他咬了一下牙道：“这三个人死不死都没有什么大作为，只是我心里始终怀念着的一个人，却一直不见他来！”　　“堡主指的是……”　　“是我拜兄‘龙卷风’鲍千里！”　　“鲍大爷不是听说已经出了家……”　　“不错，我们兄弟五人当中，他的悟性最高，功夫也最深！”　　“比之堡主如何？”　　“现在是不知道，当年，是比我强得多！”　　说到这里，他顿了一下道：“我开始习剑术的思想，就是他疏导我的！”　　“这么说，鲍爷如今也必是剑术中人了？”　　“我也是这么在想！”　　沈海月振作着精神，说道：“现在我心里乱得很，千头万绪……除了本身必须要在极短的时间里调养伤势，此外，内外的防务，更不能有须臾大意！”　　“这一点堡主大可放心，我早已吩咐下去了！”　　“摘星堡的五座宫堡，必须改变五行的方位，我也由即日起，称居向地室，另外通下山下之五处秘道，暂时要关闭四条，仅留通向中宫之一处！”　　他的思维的确很缜密，设想得

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