Mark Twain - The Complete Short Stories of Mark Twain (Illustrated)

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This carefully edited collection has been designed and formatted to the highest digital standards and adjusted for readability on all devices.
Contents:
The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, and Other Sketches
The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County
Aurelia's Unfortunate Young Man
A Complaint about Correspondents, Dated in San Francisco
Answers to Correspondents
Among the Fenians
The Story of the Bad Little Boy Who Didn't Come to Grief
Curing a Cold
An Inquiry about Insurances
Literature in the Dry Diggings
'After' Jenkins
Lucretia Smith's Soldier
The Killing of Julius Caesar 'Localized'
An Item which the Editor Himself could not Understand
Among the Spirits
Brief Biographical Sketch of George Washington
A Touching Story of George Washington's Boyhood
A Page from a Californian Almanac
Information for the Million
The Launch of the Steamer Capital
Origin of Illustrious Men
Advice for Good Little Girls
Concerning Chambermaids
Remarkable Instances of Presence of Mind
Honored as a Curiosity in Honolulu
The Steed 'Oahu'
A Strange Dream
Short and Singular Rations
Mark Twain's Burlesque Autobiography and First Romance
Burlesque Autobiography
Awful, Terrible Medieval Romance
Merry Tales
The Private History of a Campaign That Failed
The Invalid's Story
Luck
The Captain's Story
A Curious Experience
Mrs. Mc Williams and the Lightning
Meisterschaft
The £1,000,000 Bank Note and Other New Stories
The Million Pound Bank Note
Mental Telegraphy
The Enemy Conquered
About all Kinds of Ships
Playing Courier
The German Chicago
A Petition to the Queen of England
A Majestic Literary Fossil
Sketches New and Old
The $30,000 Bequest and Other Stories
The Curious Republic of Gondour and Other Whimsical Sketches
Alonzo Fitz, and Other Stories
Mark Twain's Library of Humor
Other Stories
Biography
Samuel Langhorne Clemens (1835-1910), better known by his pen name Mark Twain, was an American writer, humorist, entrepreneur, publisher, and lecturer.

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After I had gone to bed I got to thinking of the volcanic magnificence we had witnessed, and could not go to sleep. I hunted up a book, and concluded to pass the time in reading. The first chapter I came upon related several instances of remarkable revelations, made to men through the agency of dreams—of roads and houses, trees, fences, and all manner of landmarks, shown in visions and recognized afterwards in waking hours, and which served to point the way to some dark mystery or other.

At length I fell asleep, and dreamed that I was abroad in the great plain that skirts the Hale mau mau. I stood in a sort of twilight which softened the outlines of surrounding objects, but still left them tolerably distinct. A gaunt, muffled figure stepped out from the shadow of a rude column of lava, and moved away with a slow and measured step, beckoning me to follow. I did so. I marched down, down, down hundreds of feet, upon a narrow trail which wound its tortuous course through piles and pyramids of seamed and blackened lava, and under overhanging masses of sulphur formed by the artist hand of nature into an infinitude of fanciful shapes. The thought crossed my mind that possibly my phantom guide might lead me down among the bowels of the crater, and then disappear and leave me to grope my way through its mazes, and work out my deliverance as best I might; and so, with an eye to such a contingency, I picked up a stone and "blazed" my course by breaking off a projecting corner, occasionally, from lava walls and festoons of sulphur. Finally we turned into a cleft in the crater's side, and pursued our way through its intricate windings for many a fathom down toward the home of the subterranean fires, our course lighted all the while by a ruddy glow which filtered up through innumerable cracks and crevices, and which afforded me occasional glimpses of the flood of molten fire boiling and hissing in the profound depths beneath us. The heat was intense, and the sulphurous atmosphere suffocating; but I toiled on in the footsteps of my stately guide, and uttered no complaint. At last we came to a sort of rugged chamber whose sombre and blistered walls spake with mute eloquence of some fiery tempest that had spent its fury here in a bygone age. The spectre pointed to a great boulder at the farther extremity—stood and pointed, silent and motionless, for a few fleeting moments, and then disappeared!" The grave of the last Kamehameha!" The words swept mournfully by, from an unknown source, and died away in the distant corridors of my prison-house, and I was alone in the bowels of the earth, in the home of desolation, in the presence of death!

My first frightened impulse was to fly, but a stronger impulse arrested me and impelled me to approach the massive boulder the spectre had pointed at. With hesitating step I went forward and stood beside it—nothing there. I grew bolder, and walked around and about it, peering shrewdly into the shadowy half-light that surrounded it—still nothing. I paused to consider what to do next. While I stood irresolute, I chanced to brush the ponderous stone with my elbow, and lo! it vibrated to my touch! I would as soon have thought of starting a kiln of bricks with my feeble hand. My curiosity was excited. I bore against the boulder, and it still yielded; I gave a sudden push with my whole strength, and it toppled from its foundation with a crash that sent the echoes thundering down the avenues and passages of the dismal cavern! And there, in a shallow excavation over which it had rested, lay the crumbling skeleton of King Kamehameha the Great, thus sepulchred in long years by supernatural hands! The bones could be none other; for with them lay the rare and priceless crown of pulamalama coral, sacred to royalty, and tabu to all else beside. A hollow human groan issued out of the—

I woke up. How glad I was to know it was all a dream! "This comes of listening to the legend of the noble lord—of reading of those lying dream revelations—of allowing myself to be carried away by the wild beauty of old Kileana at midnight—of gorging too much pork and beans for supper!" And so I turned over and fell asleep again. And dreamed the same dream precisely as before; followed the phantom—"blazed" my course—arrived at the grim chamber—heard the sad spirit voice—overturned the massy stone—beheld the regal crown and the decaying bones of the great king!

I woke up, and reflected long upon the curious and singularly vivid dream, and finally muttered to myself, "This—this is becoming serious!"

I fell asleep again, and again I dreamed the same dream, without a single variation! I slept no more, but tossed restlessly in bed and longed for daylight. And when it came I wandered forth, and descended to the wide plain in the crater. I said to myself, "I am not superstitious; but if there is anything in that dying woman's prophecy, I am the instrument appointed to uncurtain this ancient mystery." As I walked along, I even half expected to see my solemn guide step out from some nook in the lofty wall, and beckon me to come on. At last, when I reached the place where I had first seen him in my dream, I recognized every surrounding object, and there, winding down among the blocks and fragments of lava, saw the very trail I had traversed in my vision! I resolved to traverse it again, come what might. I wondered if, in my unreal journey, I had "blazed" my way, so that it would stand the test of stern reality; and thus wondering, a chill went to my heart when I came to the first stony projection I had broken off in my dream, and saw the fresh new fracture, and the dismembered fragment lying on the ground! My curiosity rose up and banished all fear, and I hurried along as fast as the rugged road would allow me. I looked for my other " blazes" and found them ; found the cleft in the wall; recognized all its turnings; walked in the light that ascended from the glowing furnaces visible far below; sweated in the close, hot atmosphere, and breathed the sulphurous smoke—and at last I stood hundreds of feet beneath the peaks of Kileana in the ruined chamber, and in the presence of the mysterious boulder!

"This is no dream," I said; "this is a revelation from the realm of the supernatural; and it becomes not me to longer reason, conjecture, suspect, but blindly to obey the impulse given me by the unseen power that guides me."

I moved with a slow and reverent step towards the stone, and bore against it. It yielded perceptibly to the pressure. I brought my full weight and strength to bear, and surged against it. It yielded again; but I was so enfeebled by my toilsome journey that I could not overthrow it. I rested a little, and then raised an edge of the boulder by a strong, steady push, and placed a small stone under it, to keep it from sinking back to its place. I rested again, and then repeated the process. Before long, I had added a third prop, and had got the edge of the boulder considerably elevated. The labour and the close atmosphere together were so exhausting, however, that I was obliged to lie down then, and recuperate my strength by a longer season of rest. And so, hour after hour I laboured, growing more and more weary, but still upheld by a fascination which I felt was infused into me by the invisible powers whose will I was working. At last I concentrated my strength in a final effort, and the stone rolled from its position.

I can never forget the overpowering sense of awe that sank down like a great darkness upon my spirit at that moment. After a solemn pause to prepare myself, with bowed form and uncovered head, I slowly turned my gaze till it rested upon the spot where the great stone had lain.

There wasn't any bones there!

I just said to myself, "Well, if this ain't the blastedest, infernalest swindle that ever I've come across yet, I wish I may never!"

And then I scratched out of there, and marched up here to the Volcano House, and got out my old raw-boned fool of a horse, "Oahu," and "lammed" him till he couldn't stand up without leaning against something.

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