Axidava

The Mouse

Theodoric Voler had been brought up, from infancy to the confines of middle age, by a fond mother whose chief solicitude had been to keep him screened from what she called the coarser realities of life. 

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The Saint And The Goblin

The little stone Saint occupied a retired niche in a side aisle of the old cathedral.  No one quite remembered who he had been, but that in a way was a guarantee of respectability.  At least so the Goblin said. 

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Sredni Vashtar

Conradin was ten years old, and the doctor had pronounced his professional opinion that the boy would not live another five years.

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The Lost Sanjak

The prison Chaplain entered the condemned’s cell for the last time, to give such consolation as he might.

“The only consolation I crave for,” said the condemned, “is to tell my story in its entirety to some one who will at least give it a respectful hearing.”

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A Young Turkish Catastrophe In Two Scenes

The Minister for Fine Arts (to whose Department had been lately added the new sub-section of Electoral Engineering) paid a business visit to the Grand Vizier.  According to Eastern etiquette they discoursed for a while on indifferent subjects.  The minister only checked himself in time from making a passing reference to the Marathon Race, remembering that the Vizier had a Persian grandmother and might consider any allusion to Marathon as somewhat tactless.  Presently the Minister broached the subject of his interview.

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