The Yellow Wall Paper

It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer. A colonial mansion, a hereditary estate, I would say a haunted house, and reach the height of romantic felicity,—but that would be asking too much of fate!...

The Death of Olivier Bécaille

I It was a Saturday morning, at six o’clock, that I died. I had been ill for three days. My poor wife had just been rummaging through a trunk, looking for some clean linen, and when she turned, she saw me lying there stiff,...

The Man in the Bell

In my younger days, bell-ringing was much more in fashion among the young men of ——, than it is now. Nobody, I believe, practises it there at present except the servants of the church, and the melody has been much injured in consequence. Some...

The Sandman

Nathanael to Lothar You must all be very worried by my not having written for so long. Mother is probably angry, and Clara, I dare say, thinks that I am living in the lap of luxury and have completely forgotten the lovely, angelic image...

What Was It?

It is, I confess, with considerable diffidence that I approach the strange narrative which I am about to relate. The events which I purpose detailing are of so extraordinary a character that I am quite prepared to meet with an unusual amount of incredulity...

August Heat

Penistone Road, Clapham.* August 20th, 190—. I have had what I believe to be the most remarkable day in my life, and while the events are still fresh in my mind, I wish to put them down on paper...

Chickamauga

One sunny autumn afternoon a child strayed away from its rude home in a small field and entered a forest unobserved. It was happy in a new sense of freedom from control—happy in the opportunity of exploration and adventure; for this child’s spirit, in...

The Derelict

‘It’s the Material,’ said the old ship’s doctor. … ‘The Material, plus the Conditions; and, maybe,’ he added slowly, ‘a third factor—yes, a third factor; but there, there. …’ He broke off his half-meditative sentence, and began...

Luella Miller

Close to the village street stood the one-story house in which Luella Miller, who had an evil name in the village, had dwelt. She had been dead for years, yet there were those in the village who, in spite of the clearer light which...

Novel of the White Powder

My name is Leicester;* my father, Major-General Wyn Leicester, a distinguished officer of artillery, succumbed five years ago to a complicated liver complaint acquired in the deadly climate of India. A year later my only brother, Francis, came home after an exceptionally...