Stern, Philip Van Doren (ed) - Travellers in Time / Стерн, Филип Ван Дорен (ред) - Путешественники во времени [1947, EPUB, ENG]

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Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) - Travellers in Time

Название: Travellers in Time / Путешественники во времени
Год выпуска: 1947
Под редакцией: Stern, Philip Van Doren / Стерн, Филип Ван Дорен
Издательство: Doubleday
ISBN: не указан
Формат: EPUB
Качество: OCR (Jerry eBooks)
Язык: английский

Фантастика (с конца 19-го века до середины 20-го) на тему путешествий во времени.
The Time Machine / Машина времени by H.G. Wells
Everywhere Else and Otherwise by Algernon Blackwood
Enoch Soames / Енох Сомс by Max Beerbohm
Between the Minute and the Hour by A.M. Burrage
The Rocking-Horse Winner / Победитель на деревянной лошадке by D.H. Lawrence
On the Staircase by Katharine Fullerton Gerould
August Heat / Августовская жара by William Fryer Harvey
The Anticipator by Morley Roberts
The Old Man / Завтрашние победители by Holloway Horn
The Taipan / Тайпан by W. Somerset Maugham
The Rousing of Mr. Bradegar by H.F. Heard
The Finest Story in the World / Лучшая в мире повесть by Rudyard Kipling
Etched in Moonlight by James Stephens
A View from a Hill / Вид с холма by M.R. James
A Friend to Alexander by James Thurber
The Silver Mirror / Серебряное зеркало by A. Conan Doyle
No Ships Pass by Lady Eleanor Smith
The Clock / Часы by A.E.W. Mason
Opening the Door / Открытие Двери by Arthur Machen
The Curious Case of Benjamin Buttons / Забавный случай с Бенджамином Баттоном by F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Alternative by Maurice Baring
Mr. Strenberry's Tale / Загадочный мистер Стренберри by J.B. Preistley
Phantas / Фантазм by Oliver Onions
The Homeless One by A.E. Coppard

“AND THANK YOU, SAID THE LANDLADY, WITH THE MECHANICAL CHEERFULNESS of her kind. She pushed across the counter one shilling and four coppers, which all contrived to get wet on the journey. “Yes, it’s quiet enough. Sort of weather to bring them in too, though it’s a bit early yet for our lot. Who’s in the Private Bar?” She craned her fat little neck, peered across the other side, and then returned, looking very confidential. “Only one. But he’s one of our reg’lars. A bit toe reg’lar, if you ask me, Mr. Strenberry is.”
I put down my glass, and glanced out, through the open door. All I could see was a piece of wet road. The rain was falling now with that precision which suggests it will go on for ever. It was darker too. “And who is Mr. Strenberry?” I enquired, merely for want of something better to do. It did not matter to me who Mr. Strenberry was.
The landlady leaned forward a little. “He’s the schoolmaster from down the road,” she replied, in a delighted whisper. “Been here—oh, lemme see—it must be four years, might be five. Came from London here. Yes, that’s where he came from, London. Sydenham, near the Crystal Palace, that’s his home. I know because he’s told me so himself, and I’ve a sister that’s lived near there these twenty years.”
. . .
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