The Greatest Short Stories of H. G. Wells: 70+ Titles in One Edition. Герберт Уэллс
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Название: The Greatest Short Stories of H. G. Wells: 70+ Titles in One Edition

Автор: Герберт Уэллс

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Языкознание

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isbn: 9788027235919

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СКАЧАТЬ A STORY OF THE DAYS TO COME— 1. THE CURE FOR LOVE

       A STORY OF THE DAYS TO COME— 2. THE VACANT COUNTRY

       A STORY OF THE DAYS TO COME— 3. THE WAYS OF THE CITY

       A STORY OF THE DAYS TO COME— 4. UNDERNEATH

       A STORY OF THE DAYS TO COME— 5. BINDON INTERVENES

       THE STAR

       THE MAN WHO COULD WORK MIRACLES

       MISS WINCHELSEA’S HEART

       MR. LEDBETTER’S VACATION

       THE STOLEN BODY

       JIMMY GOGGLES THE GOD

       MR. BRISHER’S TREASURE

      A VISION OF JUDGMENT A DREAM OF ARMAGEDDON

       FILMER

       THE NEW ACCELERATOR

       THE INEXPERIENCED GHOST

       MR. SKELMERSDALE IN FAIRYLAND

       THE VALLEY OF SPIDERS

       THE TRUTH ABOUT PYECRAFT

       THE MAGIC SHOP

      THE LAND IRONCLADS THE COUNTRY OF THE BLIND

      THE EMPIRE OF THE ANTS THE DOOR IN THE WALL THE BEAUTIFUL SUIT

       MY FIRST AEROPLANE — “ALAUDA MAGNA”

       LITTLE MOTHER UP THE MÖRDERBERG

       THE GRISLY FOLK

      THE CHRONIC ARGONAUTS

       BEING THE ACCOUNT OF DR. NEBOGIPFEL’S SOJOURN IN LLYDDWDD

      First published in The Science Schools Journal, The Royal College of Science, 1888

       Table of Contents

      About half-a-mile outside the village of Llyddwdd by the road that goes up over the eastern flank of the mountain called Pen-y-pwll to Rwstog is a large farm-building known as the Manse. It derives this title from the fact that it was at one time the residence of the minister of the Calvinistic Methodists. It is a quaint, low, irregular erection, lying back some hundred yards from the railway, and now fast passing into a ruinous state.

      Since its construction in the latter half of the last century this house has undergone many changes of fortune, having been abandoned long since by the farmer of the surrounding acres for less pretentious and more commodious headquarters. Among others Miss Carnot, “the Gallic Sappho” at one time made it her home, and later on an old man named Williams became its occupier. The foul murder of this tenant by his two sons was the cause of its remaining for some considerable period uninhabited; with the inevitable consequence of its undergoing very extensive dilapidation.

      The house had got a bad name, and adolescent man and Nature combined to bring swift desolation upon it. The fear of the Williamses which kept the Llyddwdd lads from gratifying their propensity to invade its deserted interior, manifested itself in unusually destructive resentment against its external breakables. The missiles with which they at once confessed and defied their spiritual dread, left scarcely a splinter of glass, and only battered relics of the old-fashioned leaden frames, in its narrow windows, while numberless shattered tiles about the house, and four or five black apertures yawning behind the naked rafters in the roof, also witnessed vividly to the energy of their rejection. Rain and wind thus had free way to enter the empty rooms and work their will there, old Time aiding and abetting. Alternately soaked and desiccated, the planks of flooring and wainscot warped apart strangely, split here and there, and tore themselves away in paroxysms of rheumatic pain from the rust-devoured nails that had once held them firm. The plaster of walls and ceiling, growing green-black with a rain-fed crust of lowly life, parted slowly from the fermenting laths; and large fragments thereof falling down inexplicably in tranquil hours, with loud concussion and clatter, gave strength to the popular superstition that old Williams and his sons were fated to re-enact their fearful tragedy until the final judgment. White roses and daedal creepers, that Miss Carnot had first adorned the walls with, spread now luxuriantly over the lichen-filmed tiles of the roof, and in slender graceful sprays timidly invaded the ghostly cobweb-draped apartments. Fungi, sickly pale, began to displace and uplift the bricks in the cellar floor; while on the rotting wood everywhere they clustered, in all the glory of the purple and mottled crimson, yellow-brown and hepatite. Woodlice and ants, beetles and moths, winged and creeping things innumerable, found each day a more congenial home among the ruins; and after them in ever-increasing multitudes swarmed the blotchy toads. Swallows and martins built every year more thickly in the silent, airy, upper chambers. Bats and owls struggled for the crepuscular corners of the lower rooms. Thus, in the Spring of the year eighteen hundred and eighty-seven, was Nature taking over, gradually but certainly, the tenancy of the old Manse. “The house was falling into decay,” as men who do not appreciate the application of human derelicts to other beings’ use would say, “surely and swiftly.” But it was destined nevertheless to shelter another human tenant before its final dissolution.

      There was no intelligence of the advent of a new inhabitant in quiet Llyddwdd. He came without a solitary СКАЧАТЬ