Interpreter of Maladies. Winter Dreams. By F.
Scott Fitzgerald SOME OF THE CADDIES were poor as sin and lived in one-room houses with a neurasthenic cow in the front yard, but Dexter Green's father owned the second best grocery-store in Black Bear--the best one was "The Hub," patronized by the wealthy people from Sherry Island--and Dexter caddied only for pocket-money. Hills Like White Elephants by Hemingway. A Clean, Well-Lighted Place by Hemingway. The Awakening, by Kate Chopin. Young Goodman Brown by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Young Goodman Brown came forth at sunset into the street at Salem village; but put his head back, after crossing the threshold, to exchange a parting kiss with his young wife.
And Faith, as the wife was aptly named, thrust her own pretty head into the street, letting the wind play with the pink ribbons of her cap while she called to Goodman Brown. "Dearest heart," whispered she, softly and rather sadly, when her lips were close to his ear, "prithee put off your journey until sunrise and sleep in your own bed to-night. A lone woman is troubled with such dreams and such thoughts that she's afeard of herself sometimes. Pray tarry with me this night, dear husband, of all nights in the year. " "My love and my Faith," replied young Goodman Brown, "of all nights in the year, this one night must I tarry away from thee. "Then God bless youe!
" "Amen! " "Poor little Faith! " "You are late, Goodman Brown," said he. "Sayest thou so? " "Too far! "Can this be so? " "Ha! A Pair of Silk Stockings - Kate Chopin. Bibliographic Notes: First published in the early 1890s, and collected in Bayou Folk in 1894.
Little Mrs Sommers one day found herself the unexpected possessor of fifteen dollars. It seemed to her a very large amount of money, and the way in which it stuffed and bulged her worn old porte-monnaie gave her a feeling of importance such as she had not enjoyed for years. The question of investment was one that occupied her greatly. For a day or two she walked about apparently in a dreamy state, but really absorbed in speculation and calculation. She did not wish to act hastily, to do anything she might afterward regret. A dollar or two should be added to the price usually paid for Janie's shoes, which would insure their lasting an appreciable time longer than they usually did.
The neighbors sometimes talked of certain ‘better days’ that little Mrs Sommers had known before she had ever thought of being Mrs Sommers. But that day she was a little faint and tired. She was fastidious. The Black Cat by Edgar Allan Poe. FOR the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief.
Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not - and very surely do I not dream. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I would unburthen my soul. William Wilson by Edgar Allan Poe. What say of it?
What say of conscience grim, That spectre in my path? --Chamberlayne's Pharronida. LET me call myself, for the present, William Wilson. The fair page now lying before me need not be sullied with my real appellation. This has been already too much an object for the scorn -- for the horror -- for the detestation of my race. The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allan Poe. Kate Chopin: "Desiree's Baby" Desiree's Baby As the day was pleasant, Madame Valmonde drove over to L'Abri to see Desiree and the baby.
It made her laugh to think of Desiree with a baby. Why, it seemed but yesterday that Desiree was little more than a baby herself; when Monsieur in riding through the gateway of Valmonde had found her lying asleep in the shadow of the big stone pillar. The little one awoke in his arms and began to cry for "Dada. " That was as much as she could do or say.
It was no wonder, when she stood one day against the stone pillar in whose shadow she had lain asleep, eighteen years before, that Armand Aubigny riding by and seeing her there, had fallen in love with her. Monsieur Valmonde grew practical and wanted things well considered: that is, the girl's obscure origin. Madame Valmonde had not seen Desiree and the baby for four weeks. Bernice Bobs Her Hair by F. Scott Fitzgerald. By F.
Scott Fitzgerald After dark on Saturday night one could stand on the first tee of the golf-course and see the country-club windows as a yellow expanse over a very black and wavy ocean.