Genre - Short Story. You are on the page - 22
"I understand, Captain Joyce," said the General, "that you have allowed a very important prisoner to slip through your fingers." "I am sorry, sir." "No doubt. But that will not mend matters. Did you ascertain anything about him before you lost him?" "No, sir." "How was that?" "I could get nothing out of him, sir." "Did you try?" "Yes, sir; I did what I could." "What did you do?" "Well, sir,
All is still and sombre. At this hour the simple traffic of the thinly-peopled country is over, and nothing can be more solitary.From this jungle, nevertheless, through which the mists of evening are already creeping, she sees a gigantic man approaching her. In that poor and primitive country robbery is a crime unknown. She, therefore, has no fears for her pound of tea, and pint of gin, and sixteen shillings in silver which she is bringing home in her pocket. But there is something that would
me back," he said, tenderly. "You will be cold.""It is colder for my son," said the old woman, and wept afresh. The sound of her sobs died away on his ears. The bed was warm, and his eyes heavy with sleep. He dozed fitfully, and then slept until a sudden wild cry from his wife awoke him with a start. "The paw!" she cried wildly. "The monkey's paw!" He started up in alarm. "Where? Where is it? What's the matter?" She came stumbling across
from theNorth. Every bond between them was broken; two kingdoms wereestablished under a single name--Russia--one under the Tatar yoke, theother under the same rule with Lithuanians. But actually they had norelation with one another; different laws, different customs,different aims, different bonds, and different activities gave themwholly different characters."This same Prince Guedimin freed Kieff from the Tatar yoke. This cityhad been laid waste by the golden hordes of Ghengis Khan and
oor, when, giving each mouse as it went out a little tap with her wand, the mouse was that moment turned into a fine horse, which altogether made a very fine set of six horses of a beautiful mouse-colored dapple-gray. Being at a loss for a coachman, Cinderella said:"I will go and see if there is never a rat in the rattrap--we may make a coachman of him." "Thou art in the right," replied her Godmother. "Go and look." Cinderella brought the trap to her, and in it
d when writing the present tale, the gratuities received yearly by the musicians at Christmas were somewhat as follows: From the manor-house ten shillings and a supper; from the vicar ten shillings; from the farmers five shillings each; from each cottage-household one shilling; amounting altogether to not more than ten shillings a head annually--just enough, as an old executant told me, to pay for their fiddle-strings, repairs, rosin, and music-paper (which they mostly ruled themselves). Their