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241Author:  McNutt, William SlavensRequires cookie*
 Title:  The Tale of a Tightwad  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: I like dollars same as I like race-horses," the saleslady behind the hotel cigar-counter explained. "I like 'em when they're movin', an' furnishin' some excitement to the onlookers. A race-horse packed in a can don't make anybody's heart beat faster, does it? No! Well, a dollar buried for life in a bank is my idea of nothing useful.
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242Author:  Muir, JohnRequires cookie*
 Title:  American Forests  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: THE forests of America, however slighted by man, must have been a great delight to God; for they were the best he ever planted. The whole continent was a garden, and from the beginning it seemed to be favored above all the other wild parks and gardens of the globe. To prepare the ground, it was rolled and sifted in seas with infinite loving deliberation and forethought, lifted into the light, submerged and warmed over and over again, pressed and crumpled into folds and ridges, mountains and hills, subsoiled with heaving volcanic fires, ploughed and ground and sculptured into scenery and soil with glaciers and rivers,—every feature growing and changing from beauty to beauty, higher and higher. And in the fullness of time it was planted in groves, and belts, and broad, exuberant, mantling forests, with the largest, most varied, most fruitful, and most beautiful trees in the world. Bright seas made its border with wave embroidery and icebergs; gray deserts were outspread in the middle of it, mossy tundras on the north, savannas on the south, and blooming prairies and plains; while lakes and rivers shone through all the vast forests and openings, and happy birds and beasts gave delightful animation. Everywhere, everywhere over all the blessed continent, there were beauty, and melody, and kindly, wholesome, foodful abundance.
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243Author:  Norris, FrankRequires cookie*
 Title:  Comida: An Experience in Famine.  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: BY grace of our guide, our phrase book, and our Salva-Webster Dictionary, we managed to pick up a good deal of Spanish during the Santiago campaign, but the one word our guide did not tell us, the one expression we did not look up in the Diccionario, was the very one we understood most quickly: its meaning was apparent the instant we heard it uttered. We shall never forget comida and all that it stands for.
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244Author:  Norris, FrankRequires cookie*
 Title:  McTeague  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: It was Sunday, and, according to his custom on that day, McTeague took his dinner at two in the afternoon at the car conductors' coffee-joint on Polk Street. He had a thick gray soup; heavy, underdone meat, very hot, on a cold plate; two kinds of vegetables; and a sort of suet pudding, full of strong butter and sugar. On his way back to his office, one block above, he stopped at Joe Frenna's saloon and bought a pitcher of steam beer. It was his habit to leave the pitcher there on his way to dinner.
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245Author:  Oskison, John M.Requires cookie*
 Title:  "Remaining Causes of Indian Discontent"  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: WHEN the White River Utes left their reservation in Utah recently in angry protest against the Government's allotment of their land, they attracted attention to a vanishing type of discontented Indian.
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246Author:  Oskison, John M.Requires cookie*
 Title:  Diverse Tongues: A Sketch  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: Several months ago a new magazine made its appearance in New York. Its title is "1910." Next year its title will be "1911." It is a labor of love, being conducted by a little group of writers and artists who contribute to its columns whatsoever each one is pleased to contribute. So far the result has been good for the readers as well as the contributors. The following sketch is taken from its columns. It is written by John Oskison and it leaves one a little teary around the eye-lashes.
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247Author:  Oskison, John M.Requires cookie*
 Title:  "Friends of the Indian."  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: At last year's "Lake Mohonk Conference of Friends of the Indian and Other Dependent Peoples," Mr. Bonaparte quoted a naval officer as once declaring that "the service would never be worth a — until all the well-meaning people in it had been hanged." He hinted that something of the same tenor might have been said with equal justice of the activity of champions of the Indian who are merely well-meaning. Knowledge and discretion in those who have undertaken unofficially to influence the conduct of Indian affairs would have tempered their zeal usefully in the years when service was most needed; and, though little fault can now be found with the methods and personnel of the Indian Rights Association and similar bodies, there is still a too noticeable tendency to let good intentions evaporate in earnest, purposeless talk. That "court of final appeal, public opinion," has been appealed to so often that the last advocate must needs be silver-tongued indeed to rouse more than a momentary interest. The Indian service, bad as it has been at times, has accomplished more for the disappearing natives than it has been credited with in the popular mind. It would have done still more if its critics had been inspired by accurate information and good judgment.
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248Author:  Ouida, 1839-1908Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Little Thief  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: IT was a warm night in February; there was the scent of narcissus and violets already on the air, and the Arno was silvered by the light of a full moon, as it flowed under the arches of the Ponte Vecchio.
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249Author:  Oyen, HenryRequires cookie*
 Title:  "The Last Protest: A Story of Montana."  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: WHEN the teachers at the government school had instructed Young Moon thoroughly in the various branches of knowledge prescribed in the course, they presented him with an engrossed diploma setting forth his qualifications as a scholar, and told him that the great wide world was before him—his to conquer or serve as he saw fit.
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250Author:  Paine, ThomasRequires cookie*
 Title:  Common Sense  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: Some writers have so confounded society with government, as to leave little or no distinction between them; whereas they are not only different, but have different origins. Society is produced by our wants, and government by our wickedness; the former promotes our happiness positively by uniting our affections, the latter negatively by restraining our vices. The one encourages intercourse, the other creates distinctions. The first is a patron, the last a punisher.
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251Author:  Peattie, Elia Wilkinson, 1862-1935Requires cookie*
 Title:  On a Blank Leaf in 'The Marble Faun.'  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
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252Author:  Peattie, Elia Wilkinson, 1862-1935Requires cookie*
 Title:  After the Storm: A Story of the Prairie  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: WHEN the men drove up for supper, they found the table unset, the fire out, and the woman tossing on the bed.
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253Author:  Peattie, Elia Wilkinson, 1862-1935Requires cookie*
 Title:  Thorkild Viborg  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: AT the north of the Ringkjobing Fjord, not far from Nysogn, a wild, ragged-looking castle has dug its talons into the rocks, and stands with a haggard defiance fronting the fjord, which is as immobile and as chill as death. Here for centuries have dwelt the Viborgs, a melancholy race of men born with a prescience of doom. Reckless with their lives, mad in their loves, cursed with disease, they are born for sorrow. And now, in the new time, out of this comfortless home,—for it is never warm enough or light enough or gay enough in Viborg Hold,—all save the eldest born are crowded. Only for him does the jaded ground yield sufficient substance; only for his needs can the work-worn peasants pay sufficient tax.
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254Author:  Saint-Pierre, Bernadin deRequires cookie*
 Title:  Studies of Nature  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: The wretchedness of the lower orders is, therefore, the principal source of our physical and moral maladies. There is another, no less fertile in mischief, I mean the education of children. This branch of political economy engaged, among the ancients, the attention of the greatest legislators; with us education has no manner of reference to the constitution of the state. In early life are formed the inclinations and aversions which influence the whole of our existence. Our first affections are likewise the last; they accompany us through life, reappear in old age, and then revive the sensibilities of childhood with still greater force than those of mature age.
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255Author:  Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849Requires cookie*
 Title:  Annabel Lee  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
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256Author:  Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Black Cat  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: 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 unburden my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household events. In their consequences, these events have terrified — have tortured — have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me, they have presented little but horror — to many they will seem less terrible than baroques. Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the commonplace — some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects.
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257Author:  Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Cask of Amontillado  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. AT LENGTH I would be avenged; this was a point definitively settled — but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish, but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.
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258Author:  Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849Requires cookie*
 Title:  A Tale of the Ragged Mountains  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: During the fall of the year 1827, while residing near Charlottesville, Virginia, I casually made the acquaintance of Mr Augustus Bedloe. This young gentleman was remarkable in every respect, and excited in me a profound interest and curiosity. I found it impossible to comprehend him either in his moral or his physical relations. Of his family I could obtain no satisfactory account. Whence he came, I never ascertained. Even about his age — although I call him a young gentleman — there was something which perplexed me in no little degree. He certainly seemed young — and he made a point of speaking about his youth — yet there were moments when I should have had little trouble in imagining him a hundred years of age. But in no regard was he more peculiar than in his personal appearance. He was singularly tall and thin. He stooped much. His limbs were exceedingly long and emaciated. His forehead was broad and low. His complexion was absolutely bloodless. His mouth was large and flexible, and his teeth were more wildly uneven, although sound, than I had ever before seen teeth in a human head. The expression of his smile, however, was by no means unpleasing, as might be supposed: but it had no variation whatever. It was one of profound melancholy — of a phaseless and unceasing gloom. His eyes were abnormally large, and round like those of a cat. The pupils, too, upon any accession or diminution of light, underwent contraction or dilation, just such as is observed in the feline tribe. In moments of excitement the orbs grew bright to a degree almost inconceivable; seeming to emit luminous rays, not of a reflected but of an intrinsic lustre, as does a candle or the sun; yet their ordinary condition was to totally vapid, filmy, and dull, as to convey the idea of the eyes of a long-interred corpse.
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259Author:  Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Pit and the Pendulum  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: I was sick — sick unto death with that long agony; and when they at length unbound me, and I was permitted to sit, I felt that my senses were leaving me. The sentence — the dread sentence of death — was the last of distinct accentuation which reached my ears. After that, the sound of the inquisitorial voices seemed merged in one dreamy indeterminate hum. It conveyed to my soul the idea of revolution — perhaps from its association in fancy with the burr of a mill-wheel. This only for a brief period; for presently I heard no more. Yet, for a while, I saw; but with how terrible an exaggeration! I saw the lips of the black-robed judges. They appeared to me white — whiter than the sheet upon which I trace these words — and thin even to grotesqueness; thin with the intensity of their expression of firmness — of immoveable resolution — of stern contempt of human torture. I saw that the decrees of what to me was Fate, were still issuing from those lips. I saw them writhe with a deadly locution. I saw them fashion the syllables of my name; and I shuddered because no sound succeeded. I saw, too, for a few moments of delirious horror, the soft and nearly imperceptible waving of the sable draperies which enwrapped the walls of the apartment. And then my vision fell upon the seven tall candles upon the table. At first they wore the aspect of charity, and seemed white slender angels who would save me; but then, all at once, there came a most deadly nausea over my spirit, and I felt every fibre in my frame thrill as if I had touched the wire of a galvanic battery, while the angel forms became meaningless spectres, with heads of flame, and I saw that from them there would be no help. And there stole into my fancy, like a rich musical note, the thought of what sweet rest there must be in the grave. The thought came gently and stealthily, and it seemed long before it attained full appreciation; but just as my spirit came at length properly to feel and entertain it, the figures of the judges vanished, as if magically, from before me; the tall candles sank into nothingness; their flames went out utterly; the blackness of darkness supervened; all sensation appeared swallowed up in that mad rushing descent as of the soul into Hades. Then silence, and stillness, and night were the universe.
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260Author:  Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Spectacles  
 Published:  1995 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: Many years ago, it was the fashion to ridicule the idea of 'love at first sight'; but those who think, not less than those who feel deeply, have always advocated its existence. Modern discoveries, indeed, in what may be termed ethical magnetism or magneto-aesthetics, render it probable that the most natural, and, consequently, the truest and most intense of the human affections are those which arise in the heart as if by electric sympathy — in a word, that the brightest and most enduring of the psychal fetters are those which are riveted by a glance. The confession I am about to make will add another to the already almost innumerable instances of the truth of the position.
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