Fifty Great American Short Stories美国短篇小说精粹50篇 英文原版 [平装] 下载 mobi epub pdf 电子书 2025

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内容简介

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] 下载 mobi epub pdf txt 电子书 格式

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书很轻 印刷质量初看之下一般 但应该是正版

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刚开始看，感觉还不错

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非常好的一本书，京东配送也不错!读书是一种提升自我的艺术。“玉不琢不成器，人不学不知道。”读书是一种学习的过程。一本书有一个故事，一个故事叙述一段人生，一段人生折射一个世界。“读万卷书，行万里路”说的正是这个道理。读诗使人高雅，读史使人明智。读每一本书都会有不同的收获。“悬梁刺股”、“萤窗映雪”，自古以来，勤奋读书，提升自我是每一个人的毕生追求。读书是一种最优雅的素质，能塑造人的精神，升华人的思想。 　　读书是一种充实人生的艺术。没有书的人生就像空心的竹子一样，空洞无物。书本是人生最大的财富。犹太人让孩子们亲吻涂有蜂蜜的书本，是为了让他们记住：书本是甜的，要让甜蜜充满人生就要读书。读书是一本人生最难得的存折，一点一滴地积累，你会发现自己是世界上最富有的人。 　 读书是一种感悟人生的艺术。读杜甫的诗使人感悟人生的辛酸，读李白的诗使人领悟官场的腐败，读鲁迅的文章使人认清社会的黑暗，读巴金的文章使人感到未来的希望。每一本书都是一个朋友，教会我们如何去看待人生。读书是人生的一门最不缺少的功课，阅读书籍，感悟人生，助我们走好人生的每一步。 　 书是灯，读书照亮了前面的路；书是桥，读书接通了彼此的岸；书是帆，读书推动了人生的船。读书是一门人生的艺术，因为读书，人生才更精彩！ 读书，是好事；读大量的书，更值得称赞。 读书是一种享受生活的艺术。五柳先生“好读书，不求甚解，每有会意，便欣然忘食”。当你枯燥烦闷，读书能使你心情愉悦；当你迷茫惆怅时，读书能平静你的 心，让你看清前路；当你心情愉快时，读书能让你发现身边更多美好的事物，让你更加享受生活。读书是一种最美丽的享受。“书中自有黄金屋，书中自有颜如 玉。” 　 一位叫亚克敦的英国人，他的书斋里杂乱的堆满了各科各类的图书，而且每本书上都有着手迹。读到这里是不是有一种敬佩之意油然而升。因为“有了书，就象鸟儿有了翅膀”吗！ 　 然而，我们很容易忽略的是：有好书并不一定能读好书。正如这位亚克敦，虽然他零零碎碎地记住了不少知识，可当人家问他时，他总是七拉八扯说不清楚。这里的原因只有一个，那就是他不善长于读书，而只会“依葫芦画瓢”。 朱熹说过：“读书之法，在循序渐进，熟读而精思。” 　 所谓“循序渐进”，就是学习、工作等按照一定的步骤诼渐深入或提高。也就是说我们并不要求书有几千甚至几万，根本的目的在于对自己的书要层层深入，点点掌握，关键还在于把握自己的读书速度。至于“熟读”，顾名思义，就是要把自己看过的书在看，在看，看的滚瓜烂熟，，能活学活用。而“精思”则是“循序渐进”，“熟读”的必然结果，也必然是读书的要决。有了细致、精练的思索才能更高一层的理解书所要讲的道理

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活动150-50，挺划算的。用来闲时看看不错。

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挺有意思,不过英文要很好,不然单词都不认识

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短篇小說很有它的魅力一篇一個故事，很發人思考，性價比很好

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好书，可惜没塑封，完好无损，学习美语蛮好的。。

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不错，还行

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反正质量没问题的，呵呵

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