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Thomas Aldrich

The Sisters' Tragedy, with Other Poems, Lyrical and DramaticThomas Bailey Aldrich The Sisters' Tragedy, with Other Poems, Lyrical and Dramatic THE SISTERS' TRAGEDY A. D. 1670 AGLAE, a widow MURIEL, her unmarried sister. IT happened once, in that brave land that lies For half the twelvemonth wrapt...

A Midnight FantasyThomas Bailey Aldrich A Midnight Fantasy I It was close upon eleven o’clock when I stepped out of the rear vestibule of the Boston Theatre, and, passing through the narrow court that leads to West Street, struck across the Common diagonally. Indeed, as I set foot on the Tremont ...

Mademoiselle Olympe ZabriskiThomas Bailey Aldrich Mademoiselle Olympe Zabriski I We are accustomed to speak with a certain light irony of the tendency which women have to gossip, as if the sin itself, if it is a sin, were of the gentler sex, and could by no chance be a masculine peccadillo. So fa...

The Stillwater TragedyThomas Bailey Aldrich The Stillwater Tragedy I It is close upon daybreak. The great wall of pines and hemlocks that keep off the west wind from Stillwater stretches black and indeterminate against the sky. At intervals a dull, metallic sound, like the guttural twang of a vio...

Wyndham TowersThomas Bailey Aldrich Wyndham Towers TO EDWIN BOOTH. MY DEAR BOOTH:In offering these verses to you, I beg you to treat them (as you have many a time advised a certain lord chamberlain to treat the players) not according to their desert. “Use them after your own honor and dignity; th...

The Queen of Sheba, and My Cousin the ColonelThomas Bailey Aldrich The Queen of Sheba, and My Cousin the Colonel THE QUEEN OF SHEBA I MARY In the month of June, 1872, Mr. Edward Lynde, the assistant cashier and bookkeeper of the Nautilus Bank at Rivermouth, found himself in a position to execute ...

Ponkapog PapersThomas Bailey Aldrich Ponkapog Papers TO FRANCIS BARTLETTTHESE miscellaneous notes and essays are called Ponkapog Papers not simply because they chanced, for the most part, to be written within the limits of the old Indian Reservation, but, rather, because there is something typica...

The Little ViolinistThomas Bailey Aldrich The Little Violinist Weep with me, all you that read This little story; And know, for whom a tear you shed, Death's self is sorry. Ben Jonson.This story is no invention of mine. I could not invent anything half so lovely and pathetic as seems to me the in...

Our New Neighbors At PonkapogThomas Bailey Aldrich Our New Neighbors At Ponkapog When I saw the little house building, an eighth of a mile beyond my own, on the Old Bay Road, I wondered who were to be the tenants. The modest structure was set well back from the road, among the trees, as if the in...

Père Antoine's Date-PalmThomas Bailey Aldrich Père Antoine's Date-Palm Near the Levée, and not far from the old French Cathedral in the Place d’Armes, at New Orleans, stands a fine date-palm, thirty feet in height, spreading its broad leaves in the alien air as hardily as if its sinuous roots wer...