Short Fiction by O. Henry (librera reader txt) π
Description
William Sydney Porter, known to readers as O. Henry, was a true raconteur. As a draftsman, a bank teller, a newspaper writer, a fugitive from justice in Central America, and a writer living in New York City, he told stories at each stop and about each stop. His stories are known for their vivid characters who come to life, and sometimes death, in only a few pages. But the most famous characteristic of O. Henryβs stories are the famous βtwistβ endings, where the outcome comes as a surprise both to the characters and the readers. O. Henryβs work was widely recognized and lauded, so much so that a few years after his death an award was founded in his name to recognize the best American short story (now stories) of the year.
This collection gathers all of his available short stories that are in the U.S. public domain. They were published in various popular magazines of the time, as well as in the Houston Post, where they were not attributed to him until many years after his death.
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- Author: O. Henry
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βWell, sir, we finally got in shape. Over the front door was carved the words: βThe Worldβs University; Peters & Tucker, Patrons and Proprietors. And when September the first got a cross-mark on the calendar, the come-ons begun to roll in. First the faculty got off the tri-weekly express from Tucson. They was mostly young, spectacled, and redheaded, with sentiments divided between ambition and food. Andy and me got βem billeted on the Floresvillians and then laid for the students.
βThey came in bunches. We had advertised the University in all the state papers, and it did us good to see how quick the country responded. Two hundred and nineteen husky lads aging along from 18 up to chin whiskers answered the clarion call of free education. They ripped open that town, sponged the seams, turned it, lined it with new mohair; and you couldnβt have told it from Harvard or Goldfields at the March term of court.
βThey marched up and down the streets waving flags with the Worldβs University colorsβ βultramarine and blueβ βand they certainly made a lively place of Floresville. Andy made them a speech from the balcony of the Skyview Hotel, and the whole town was out celebrating.
βIn about two weeks the professors got the students disarmed and herded into classes. I donβt believe thereβs any pleasure equal to being a philanthropist. Me and Andy bought high silk hats and pretended to dodge the two reporters of the Floresville Gazette. The paper had a man to kodak us whenever we appeared on the street, and ran our pictures every week over the column headed βEducational Notes.β Andy lectured twice a week at the University; and afterward I would rise and tell a humorous story. Once the Gazette printed my pictures with Abe Lincoln on one side and Marshall P. Wilder on the other.
βAndy was as interested in philanthropy as I was. We used to wake up of nights and tell each other new ideas for booming the University.
βββAndy,β says I to him one day, βthereβs something we overlooked. The boys ought to have dromedaries.β
βββWhatβs that?β Andy asks.
βββWhy, something to sleep in, of course,β says I. βAll colleges have βem.β
βββOh, you mean pajamas,β says Andy.
βββI do not,β says I. βI mean dromedaries.β But I never could make Andy understand; so we never ordered βem. Of course, I meant them long bedrooms in colleges where the scholars sleep in a row.
βWell, sir, the Worldβs University was a success. We had scholars from five States and territories, and Floresville had a boom. A new shooting gallery and a pawn shop and two more saloons started; and the boys got up a college yell that went this way:
βThe scholars was a fine lot of young men, and me and Andy was as proud of βem as if they belonged to our own family.
βBut one day about the last of October Andy comes to me and asks if I have any idea how much money we had left in the bank. I guesses about sixteen thousand. βOur balance,β says Andy, βis $821.62.β
βββWhat!β says I, with a kind of a yell. βDo you mean to tell me that them infernal clod-hopping, dough-headed, pup-faced, goose-brained, gate-stealing, rabbit-eared sons of horse thieves have soaked us for that much?β
βββNo less,β says Andy.
βββThen, to Helvetia with philanthropy,β says I.
βββNot necessarily,β says Andy. βPhilanthropy,β says he, βwhen run on a good business basis is one of the best grafts going. Iβll look into the matter and see if it canβt be straightened out.β
βThe next week I am looking over the payroll of our faculty when I run across a new nameβ βProfessor James Darnley McCorkle, chair of mathematics; salary $100 per week. I yells so loud that Andy runs in quick.
βββWhatβs this,β says I. βA professor of mathematics at more than $5,000 a year? How did this happen? Did he get in through the window and appoint himself?β
βββI wired to Frisco for him a week ago,β says Andy. βIn ordering the faculty we seemed to have overlooked the chair of mathematics.β
βββA good thing we did,β says I. βWe can pay his salary two weeks, and then our philanthropy will look like the ninth hole on the Skibo golf links.β
βββWait a while,β says Andy, βand see how things turn out. We have taken up too noble a cause to draw out now. Besides, the further I gaze into the retail philanthropy business the better it looks to me. I never thought about investigating it before. Come to think of it now,β goes on Andy, βall the philanthropists I ever knew had plenty of money. I ought to have looked into that matter long ago, and located which was the cause and which was the effect.β
βI had confidence in Andyβs chicanery in financial affairs, so I left the whole thing in his hands. The University was flourishing fine, and me and Andy kept our silk hats shined up, and Floresville kept on heaping honors on us like we was millionaires instead of almost busted philanthropists.
βThe students kept the town lively and prosperous. Some stranger came to town and started a faro bank over the Red Front livery stable, and began to amass money in quantities. Me and Andy strolled up one night and piked a dollar or two for sociability. There were about fifty of our students there drinking rum punches and shoving high stacks of blues and reds about the table as the dealer turned the cards up.
βββWhy, dang it, Andy,β says I, βthese free-school-hunting, gander-headed, silk-socked little sons of sapsuckers have got more money than you and me ever had. Look at the rolls theyβre pulling out of their pistol pockets?β
βββYes,β says Andy, βa good many of them are sons of wealthy miners and stockmen. Itβs very sad to see βem wasting their opportunities this way.β
βAt Christmas all the students went home to spend the holidays. We had a farewell blowout
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