CHAPTER XI. "COME in," says the woman, and I did.  She says:  "Take a cheer." I done it.  She looked me all over with her little shiny eyes, and says: "What might your name be?" "Sarah Williams." "Where 'bouts do you live?  In this neighborhood?' "No'm.  In Hookerville, seven mile below.  I've walked all the way and I'm all tired... more...

CHAPTER XVI. WE slept most all day, and started out at night, a little ways behind a monstrous long raft that was as long going by as a procession.  She had four long sweeps at each end, so we judged she carried as many as thirty men, likely.  She had five big wigwams aboard, wide apart, and an open camp fire in the middle, and a tall flag-pole at each end.  There was a power of style about her.... more...

CHAPTER XXI. IT was after sun-up now, but we went right on and didn't tie up.  The king and the duke turned out by and by looking pretty rusty; but after they'd jumped overboard and took a swim it chippered them up a good deal. After breakfast the king he took a seat on the corner of the raft, and pulled off his boots and rolled up his britches, and let his legs dangle in the water, so as to... more...

CHAPTER XXXI. WE dasn't stop again at any town for days and days; kept right along down the river.  We was down south in the warm weather now, and a mighty long ways from home.  We begun to come to trees with Spanish moss on them, hanging down from the limbs like long, gray beards.  It was the first I ever see it growing, and it made the woods look solemn and dismal.  So now the frauds... more...

CHAPTER XXXVI. AS soon as we reckoned everybody was asleep that night we went down the lightning-rod, and shut ourselves up in the lean-to, and got out our pile of fox-fire, and went to work.  We cleared everything out of the way, about four or five foot along the middle of the bottom log.  Tom said we was right behind Jim's bed now, and we'd dig in under it, and when we got through there... more...

THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON It was well along in the forenoon of a bitter winter's day. The town of Eastport, in the state of Maine, lay buried under a deep snow that was newly fallen. The customary bustle in the streets was wanting. One could look long distances down them and see nothing but a dead-white emptiness, with silence to match. Of course I do not mean that... more...

INTRODUCTION. I intend that this autobiography shall become a model for all future autobiographies when it is published, after my death, and I also intend that it shall be read and admired a good many centuries because of its form and method—a form and method whereby the past and the present are constantly brought face to face, resulting in contrasts which newly fire up the interest all along, like... more...

CHAPTER I VIENNA 1899. This last summer, when I was on my way back to Vienna from the Appetite-Cure in the mountains, I fell over a cliff in the twilight, and broke some arms and legs and one thing or another, and by good luck was found by some peasants who had lost an ass, and they carried me to the nearest habitation, which was one of those large, low, thatch-roofed farm-houses, with apartments in... more...

My First Literary Venture I was a very smart child at the age of thirteen—an unusually smart child, I thought at the time. It was then that I did my first newspaper scribbling, and most unexpectedly to me it stirred up a fine sensation in the community. It did, indeed, and I was very proud of it, too. I was a printer's "devil," and a progressive and aspiring one. My uncle had me on his... more...

WHAT PAUL BOURGET THINKS OF US He reports the American joke correctly. In Boston they ask, How much does he know? in New York, How much is he worth? in Philadelphia, Who were his parents? And when an alien observer turns his telescope upon us—advertisedly in our own special interest—a natural apprehension moves us to ask, What is the diameter of his reflector? I take a great interest in M.... more...