Tag Archive for Humor

Journalism In Tennessee

I was told by the physician that a Southern climate would improve my health, and so I went down to Tennessee, and got a berth on the Morning Glory and Johnson County War-Whoop as associate editor. When I went on…

The Swedish Match

On the morning of October 6, 1885, a well-dressed young man presented himself at the office of the police superintendent of the 2nd division of the S. district, and announced that his employer, a retired cornet of the guards, called…

An Avenger

Shortly after finding his wife in flagrante delicto Fyodor Fyodorovitch Sigaev was standing in Schmuck and Co.’s, the gunsmiths, selecting a suitable revolver. His countenance expressed wrath, grief, and unalterable determination. “I know what I must do,” he was thinking.…

The Cayote

by Mark Twain Another night of alternate tranquillity and turmoil.  But morning came,by and by.  It was another glad awakening to fresh breezes, vast expansesof level greensward, bright sunlight, an impressive solitude utterlywithout visible human beings or human habitations, and…

Is He Living Or Is He Dead?

by Mark TwainI was spending the month of March 1892 at Mentone, in the Riviera. At this retired spot one has all the advantages, privately, which are to be had publicly at Monte Carlo and Nice, a few miles farther…

The Killing of Julius Caesar "Localized"

by Mark TwainBeing the only true and re­li­able ac­count ever pub­lished; taken from the Roman “Daily Evening Fasces,” of the date of that tremen­dous oc­cur­rence.Noth­ing in the world af­fords a news­pa­per re­porter so much sat­is­fac­tion as gath­er­ing up the de­tails…

Niagara

by Mark Twain Ni­a­gara Falls is a most en­joy­able place of re­sort. The ho­tels are ex­cel­lent, and the prices not at all ex­or­bi­tant. The op­por­tu­ni­ties for fish­ing are not sur­passed in the coun­try; in fact, they are not even equaled…

After Twenty Years

by O Henry The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few. The time was barely 10 o’clock at night, but chilly gusts of wind with a…

Dick Baker’s Cat

 by Mark TwainOne of my comrades there—another of those victims of eighteen years of unrequited toil and blighted hopes—was one of the gentlest spirits that ever bore its patient cross in a weary exile: grave and simple Dick Baker, pocket-miner…