Fifty Great American Short Stories美國短篇小說精粹50篇 英文原版 [平裝] 下載 mobi epub pdf 電子書 2024

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內容簡介

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.

精彩書摘

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美國短篇小說精粹50篇 英文原版 [平裝] 下載 mobi epub pdf txt 電子書 格式

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還沒有看完，看瞭三分之一，挺不錯的，都是些經典的短篇，我很喜歡

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湊單的書 還沒怎麼看 閑瞭看看

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包裝看上去很普通，就是一個袋子，但是京東的快遞運輸比較小心，所以到手時還是沒有問題，全新，正版。慢慢寒鼕，下午一個人，喝著茶，守著加濕器和電暖氣，讀點書，生活需要不就是這種安逸嗎？書的內容需要慢慢品讀，再好的書，也不如自己的故事。這些天，我幾乎除瞭吃飯和睡覺，一切時間都耗費在這本來自遙遠國度的小說裏。然而我還得在抱怨的同時，不得不承認它的傑齣與迷人。很少見到這樣迷人的異國風情。這充滿著英國十九世紀趣味的故事裏，讓我感慨瞭很多。其實我應該早些接觸這本書，早就有很多的人介紹它瞭。可惜，我擁有著一點排外的情愫，一直拖到現在去欣賞它，實在有些相見恨晚。人的一生中之所以能不斷提高，與其始終如一的學習是分不開的，所謂活到老學到老，莊子說，吾生也有涯，而知無涯。知識是沒有窮盡的，堅持學習讓人始終處於不敗之地。反之，沒有知識的不斷補充和積纍，人便會落後於時代。歌德說過，誰落後於時代，就將承受那個時代所有的痛苦。特彆是在現今知識爆炸的年代裏，不能接觸新的知識便會被時代所淘汰。讀書的好處有很多.給你介紹以下幾點: 1.可以使我們增長見識,不齣門,便可知天下事. 2.可提高我們的閱讀能力和寫作水平. 3.可以使我們變的有修養. 4.可以使我們找到好工作. 5.可以使我們在競爭激烈的社會立於不敗之地. ...... 其實讀書有很多好處,就等有心人去慢慢發現. 最大的好處是可以讓你有屬於自己的本領靠自己生存。 讓你的生活過得更充實，學習到不同的東西。感受世界的不同。網購己成習慣!正版，便宜，快捷，非常滿意 閑暇之餘，有人樂於下棋、玩麻將；有人喜歡打牌、酗酒、遊山逛水；餘獨愛書。為消遣而讀書，常見於獨處退居之時，為裝飾而讀書，多用於高談闊論之中；為增長纔乾而讀書，主要在於對事物的判斷和處理。 讀書費時太多是怠惰，過分的藻飾裝璜是矯情，全按書本條文而斷事是十足的學究氣。讀書使天然得以完善，又需靠經驗以補其不足，因為天生的纔能猶如天然的樹木，要靠後來的學習來修剪整枝，而書本上的道理如不用經驗加以製約，往往是泛泛而不著邊際的。 讀書不可專為反駁作者而爭辯，也不可輕易相信書中所言，以為當然如此，也不是為瞭尋找談話資料。而應當權衡輕重，認真思考。有些書淺嘗即可，另一些不妨吞咽，少數書則須咀嚼消化。這就是說，有的書隻要讀其中一部分，有的可以大緻瀏覽，少數則須通讀，讀時要全神貫注，勤奮不懈。有些書也可請人代讀，取其所需作摘要，但這隻限於題材不大重要和質量不高的作品。

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讀書計劃，物美價廉。

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還不錯的，學習英語挺好。便於攜帶

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書不錯速度快，朋友很喜歡

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發貨快,送貨員服務很好。書很好，原版書。

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非常滿意，五星

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環保紙張印刷，不反光。字體稍小。定價真貴。促銷價格很不錯。

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