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A ghost story / by Mark Twain

 
dc.contributor Internet Wiretap
dc.contributor.author Twain, Mark, 1835-1910
dc.date.accessioned 2018-07-27
dc.date.accessioned 2022-08-19T15:00:09Z
dc.date.available 2022-08-19T15:00:09Z
dc.date.created 1870
dc.date.issued 1993-05-06
dc.identifier ota:1856
dc.identifier.uri http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.14106/1856
dc.description.abstract Internet Wiretap is a free public service making what it sees as public domain electronic texts freely available on the internet. All of its material was gathered and organised prior to the creation of the World Wide Web and, despite updating its collection for the WWW, produces its texts in a simple, text-only format to ensure wide access to its users
dc.format.extent Text data (1 file : ca. 13 KB)
dc.format.medium Digital bitstream
dc.language English
dc.language.iso eng
dc.publisher University of Oxford
dc.relation.ispartof Oxford Text Archive Core Collection
dc.rights Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
dc.rights.uri http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/
dc.rights.label PUB
dc.subject.lcsh Fiction -- United States -- 19th century
dc.subject.lcsh Short stories -- United States -- 19th century
dc.subject.other Short stories
dc.title A ghost story / by Mark Twain
dc.type Text
has.files yes
branding Oxford Text Archive
branding Oxford Text Archive
files.size 13373
files.count 1
otaterms.date.range 1800-1899

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Internet Wiretap Edition of

A GHOST STORY by MARK TWAIN

From "Sketches New and Old", Copyright 1903, Samuel Clemens.
This text is placed in the Public Domain (May 1993).


A Ghost Story

I TOOK a large room, far up Broadway, in a huge
old building whose upper stories had been
wholly unoccupied for years, until I came. The
place had long been given up to dust and cobwebs,
to solitude and silence. I seemed groping among
the tombs and invading the privacy of the dead, that
first night I climbed up to my quarters. For the
first time in my life a superstitious dread came over
me; and as I turned a dark angle of the stairway
and an invisible cobweb swung its slazy woof in my
face and clung there, I shuddered as one who had
encountered a phantom.

I was glad enough when I reached my room and
locked out the mould and the darkness. A cheery
fire was burning in the grate, and I sat down before
it with a comforting sense of relief. For two hours
I sat there, thinking of bygone times; recalling . . .
										

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