# data[].attributes.body
But he was safe. Toes and nose and face would be only touched by the frost, because the fire was beginning to burn with strength. He was feeding it with sticks the size of his finger. In another minute he would be able to feed it with larger branches. Then he could remove his wet moccasins and socks. While they dried, he could keep his naked feet warm by the fire, rubbing them first with snow. The fire was a success. He was safe.

# data[].attributes.body
There was no wind to blow them out. He kept his head to one side to escape the burning smell, and held the flaming pack to the tree bark. As he so held it, he noticed some feeling in his hand. His flesh was burning. He could smell it. The feeling developed into pain. He continued to endure it. He held the flame of the matches to the bark that would not light readily because his own burning hands were taking most of the flame. Finally, when he could endure no more, he pulled his hands apart. The flaming matches fell into the snow, but the tree bark was burning. He began laying dry grasses and the tiniest sticks on the flame. He could not choose carefully because they must be pieces that could be lifted between his hands. Small pieces of green grass stayed on the sticks, and he bit them off as well as he could with his teeth. He treated the

# data[].attributes.body
Now the tree under which he had done this carried a weight of
snow on its branches. No wind had been blowing for weeks and each branch was heavy with snow. Each time he pulled a stick he shook the tree slightly. There had been just enough movement to cause the awful thing to happen. High up in the tree one branch dropped its load of snow. This fell on the branches beneath. This process continued, spread-
ing through the whole tree. The snow fell without warning upon the man and the fire, and the fire was dead. Where it had burned was a pile of fresh snow.

The man was shocked. It was like hearing his own judgment of
death.

# data[].attributes.body
He set his suit-case on the table, and opened it out flat. From that time on he seemed to be unconscious of the presence of any one else.
He laid out the shining, queer implements swiftly and orderly, whistling softly to himself as he always did when at work. In a deep silence and immovable, the others watched him as if under a spell.

In a minute Jimmy's pet drill was biting smoothly into the steel door. In ten minutes--breaking his own burglarious record--he threw back the
bolts and opened the door.

# data[].attributes.body
The Elmore Bank had just put in a new safe and vault. Mr. Adams was very proud of it, and insisted on an inspection by every one. The vault was a small one, but it had a new, patented door. It fastened
with three solid steel bolts thrown simultaneously with a single handle, and had a time-lock. Mr. Adams beamingly explained its workings to Mr. Spencer, who showed a courteous but not too intelligent interest. The two children, May and Agatha, were delighted
by the shining metal and funny clock and knobs.

# data[].attributes.body
Disregarding the song of the birds, the waving green trees, and the
smell of the flowers, Jimmy headed straight for a restaurant. There he
tasted the first sweet joys of liberty in the shape of a broiled
chicken and a bottle of white wine--followed by a cigar a grade better
than the one the warden had given him. From there he proceeded
leisurely to the depot.

# data[].attributes.body
It was about eleven o’clock at night, and she
was walking alone, when a boy ran up behind her and tried to snatch her purse. The strap broke
with the single tug the boy gave it from behind. But the boy’s weight and the weight of the purse
combined caused him to lose his balance so, intsead of taking off full blast as he had hoped, the
boy fell on his back on the sidewalk, and his legs flew up. the large woman simply turned around
and kicked him right square in his blue-jeaned sitter. Then she reached down, picked the boy up by
his shirt front, and shook him until his teeth rattled.

# data[].attributes.body
He looked as if he were fourteen or fifteen, frail and willow-wild, in tennis shoes and blue jeans.

# data[].attributes.body
Sweat popped out on the boy’s face and he began to struggle. Mrs. Jones stopped, jerked him
around in front of her, put a half-nelson about his neck, and continued to drag him up the street.

When she got to her door, she dragged the boy inside, down a hall, and into a large kitchenette-
furnished room at the rear of the house. She switched on the light and left the door open. The boy could hear other roomers laughing and talking in the large house. Some of their doors were open,
too, so he knew he and the woman were not alone. The woman still had him by the neck in the
middle of her room.

# data[].attributes.body
She said, “What is your name?”

“Roger,” answered the boy.

“Then, Roger, you go to that sink and wash your face,” said the woman, whereupon she turned him loose—at last. Roger looked at the door—looked at the woman—looked at the door—and went to the sink.

Let the water run until it gets warm,” she said. “Here’s a clean towel.”

“You gonna take me to jail?” asked the boy, bending over the sink.

“Not with that face, I would not take you nowhere,” said the woman. “Here I am trying to ge home to cook me a bite to eat and you snatch my pocketbook! Maybe, you ain’t been to your supper either, late as it be. Have you?”

“There’s nobody home at my house,” said the boy.

“Then we’ll eat,” said the woman, “I believe you’re hungry—or been hungry—to try to snatch my pockekbook.”

“I wanted a pair of blue suede shoes,” said the boy.

“Well, you didn’t have to snatch my pocketbook to get some suede shoes,” said Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones. “You could of asked me.”

“M’am?”

# data[].attributes.headline
From "The Celebrated Frog of Calveras County"

# data[].attributes.subject
From "The Celebrated Frog of Calveras County"

# data[].attributes.body
"What might it be that you've got in the box?"
And Smiley says, sorter indifferent like, "It might be a parrot, or it might be a canary, may be, but
it an't it's only just a frog."
And the feller took it, and looked at it careful, and turned it round this way and that, and says,
"H'm so 'tis. Well, what's he good for?"

"Well," Smiley says, easy and careless, "He's good enough for one thing, I should judge he can outjump any frog in Calaveras county." The feller took the box again, and took another long, particular look, and give it back to Smiley,
and says, very deliberate,

"Well, I don't see no p'ints about that frog that's any better'n any other
frog."

"May be you don't," Smiley says. "May be you understand frogs, and may be you don't understand 'em; may be you've had experience, and may be you an't only a amature, as it were. Anyways, I've got my opinion, and I'll risk forty dollars that he can outjump any frog in Calaveras
county."

And the feller studied a minute, and then says, kinder sad like, "Well, I'm only a stranger here,and I an't got no frog; but if I had a frog, I'd bet you."

And then Smiley says, "That's all right that's all right if you'll hold my box a minute, I'll go and get you a frog." And so the feller took the box, and put up his forty dollars along with Smiley's, andset down to wait.

# data[].attributes.headline
From "The Celebrated Frog of Calveras County"

# data[].attributes.subject
From "The Celebrated Frog of Calveras County"

# data[].attributes.body
There was a feller here once by the name of Jim Smiley, in the winter of '49 or may be it was the
spring of '50 I don't recollect exactly, somehow, though what makes me think it was one or the
other is because I remember the big flume wasn't finished when he first came to the camp; but
any way, he was the curiosest man about always betting on any thing that turned up you ever
see,

All represents the way hw wouldve talked at that time

# data[].attributes.headline
From "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calveras County"

# data[].attributes.subject
From "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calveras County"

# data[].attributes.body
I found Simon Wheeler dozing comfortably by the bar-room stove of the old, dilapidated tavern
in the ancient mining camp of Angel's, and I noticed that he was fat and bald-headed, and had
an expression of winning gentleness and simplicity upon his tranquil countenance.

# data[].attributes.body
"When the moon rises," said his' grandfather at length, "we will start for home."
The boy shook his head obstinately.
"Tomorrow, as soon as it is light," he said, "I dive again to bring up such white coral as has not been seen on
Carib Island in my day."
"In your day!" exclaimed old Jim Tom, much incensed. "In your minute—for that is all you have lived. Never
has any man made a better haul than you. Be satisfied. The reef is not fortunate for the greedy."
"My silk-sponge was won from the jaws of a shark and my shell from the conger eel," returned the boy,
doggedly. "I ask no favors of the reef.'
The old man glanced around apprehensively, while the water seemed to chuckle as it lapped against the coral.
"It is not lucky to talk that way," he said softly. "Sleep now," he went on after a pause. "When morning comes,
perhaps there will be a better spirit in you and we will go home."

# data[].attributes.body
Without further words, he drew from his belt a sharp-pointed knife and began the painful process of removing
one by one the embedded spines from the boy's right hand before they should begin to fester. He finished this
bit of rough-and-ready surgery by washing out each deep puncture with stinging salt water.

# data[].attributes.body
Without further words, he drew from his belt a sharp-pointed knife and began the painful process of removing
one by one the embedded spines from the boy's right hand before they should begin to fester. He finished this
bit of rough-and-ready surgery by washing out each deep puncture with stinging salt water.

# data[].attributes.body
The young man gave a brief nod and, filling his lungs until his chest stood out like a square box, dived high
into the air with that jack-knife dive which was invented by sponge-divers and, striking the water clean as the
point of a dropped knife, he shot down toward the beautiful depths below. Into his lithe body rushed and pulsed
the power and energy of the great swinging sea as he swam through the air-clear water toward a thicket of
gorgonias, which waved against the white sand like a bed of poppies. In thirty seconds he was twenty
fathoms down, where the pressure of seventy pounds to the square inch would have numbed and crippled an
ordinary swimmer, but meant nothing to his steel-strong body,

Could also be description

# data[].attributes.body
There they stopped paddling and started down through the water which lay before them like a thick
sheet of plate-glass. The great ledge over which they floated was dotted with thickets of colored corals and
purple and gold seafans, among which schools of brilliant fish sped and lazed and drifted like birds in the air.

# data[].attributes.body
"We must not waste a moment of this day," he said. "Perhaps before night we may make the hundred of dollars
you need for that sloop4 about which you have been bothering me so long. In my day," he went on severely,
"boys were glad enough to have a good canoe."
Jimmy Tom grunted.
[" Whoever heard," he said at last, "of making a hundred of dollars in one day?"
"It has been done—and here," returned his grandfather, positively; "but it takes good lungs and—a brave heart."

# data[].attributes.body
The great ledge over which they floated was dotted with thickets of colored corals and
purple and gold seafans,5 among which schools of brilliant fish sped and lazed and drifted like birds in the air.
Molten-silver tarpon shot through shoals of chubby cow-pilots, all green and gold and indigo, while
turquoise-blue parrot-fish raced here and there, and crimson cardinal-fish crept in and out of crevices in the
rocks. There were angel-fish in gorgeous robes of emerald and scarlet, and jet-black butterfly-fish with golden
fins, orange gills, and vivid blue mouths, while warty purple sea-cucumbers showed among clumps of yellow
sea-anemones.

# data[].attributes.body
“Hush!” said Mr. Adams, raising his trembling hand. “All be quiet for a moment. Agatha!” he called as loudly as he could. “Listen to me.” During the following silence they could just hear the faint sound of the child wildly shrieking in the dark vault in a panic of terror.

“My precious darling!” wailed the mother. “She will die of fright! Open the door! Oh, break it open! Can’t you men do something?”

“There isn’t a man nearer than Little Rock who can open that door,” said Mr. Adams, in a shaky voice. “My God! Spencer, what shall we do? That child — she can’t stand it long in there. There isn’t enough air, and, besides, she’ll go into convulsions from fright.”

# data[].attributes.body
Agatha’s mother, frantic now, beat the door of the vault with her hands. Somebody wildly suggested dynamite. Annabel turned to Jimmy, her large eyes full of anguish, but not yet despairing. To a woman nothing seems quite impossible to the powers of the man she worships.

# data[].attributes.body
He set his suit-case on the table, and opened it out flat. From that time on he seemed to be unconscious of the presence of anyone else. He laid out the shining, queer implements swiftly and orderly, whistling softly to himself as he always did when at work. In a deep silence and immovable, the others watched him as if under a spell.

In a minute Jimmy’s pet drill was biting smoothly into the steel door. In ten minutes — breaking his own burglarious record — he threw back the bolts and opened the door.

# data[].attributes.body
“Isn’ that young lady Polly Simpson?” asked Jimmy, with specious guile.

“Naw,” said the boy. “She’s Annabel Adams. Her pa owns this bank. Why’d you come to Elmore for? Is that a gold watch-chain? I’m going to get a bulldog. Got any more dimes?”

# data[].attributes.body
He got his key and went upstairs, unlocking the door of a room at the rear. Everything was just as he had left it. There on the floor was still Ben Price’s collar-button that had been torn from that eminent

detective’s shirt-band when they had overpowered Jimmy to arrest him.

Pulling out from the wall a folding-bed, Jimmy slid back a panel in the wall and dragged out a dust-covered suit-case. He opened this and gazed fondly at the finest set of burglar’s tools in the East. It was a complete set, made of specially tempered steel, the latest designs in drills, punches, braces and bits, jimmies, clamps, and augers, with two or three novelties, invented by Jimmy himself, in which he took pride.

# data[].attributes.body
“Now, Valentine,” said the warden, “you’ll go out in the morning. Brace up, and make a man of yourself. You’re not a bad fellow at heart. Stop cracking safes, and live straight.”

“Me?” said Jimmy, in surprise. “Why, I never cracked a safe in my life.”

“Oh, no,” laughed the warden. “Of course not. Let’s see, now. How was it you happened to get sent up on that Springfield job? Was it because you wouldn’t prove an alibi for fear of compromising somebody in extremely high-toned society? Or was it simply a case of a mean old jury that had it in for you? It’s always one or the other with you innocent victims.”

“Me?” said Jimmy, still blankly virtuous.

“Why, warden, I never was in Springfield in my life!”

“Take him back, Cronin!” said the warden, “and fix him up with outgoing clothes. Unlock him at seven in the morning, and let him come to the bull-pen. Better think over my advice, Valentine.”

# data[].attributes.body
Of course I could not express the things that I knew about Miss Lottie as I stood there awkward and ashamed. The years have put words to the things I knew in that moment, and as I look back upon it, I know that that moment marked the end of innocence.

# data[].attributes.body
“D—, Maybelle” — and suddenly he sobbed, loudly and painfully, and cried helplessly and hopelessly in the dark night. I had never heard a man cry before. I did not know men ever cried. I covered my ears with my hands but could not cut off the sound of my father’s harsh, painful, despairing sobs. My father was a strong man who could whisk a child upon his shoulders and go singing through the house. My father whittled toys for us, and laughed so loud that the great oak seemed to laugh with him, and taught us how to fish and hunt rabbits. How could it be that my father was crying? But the sobs went on, unstifled, finally quieting until I could hear my mother’s voice, deep and rich, humming softly as she used to hum to a frightened child.

# data[].attributes.body
“Twenty-two years, Maybelle, twenty-two years,” he was saying, “and I got nothing for you, nothing, nothing.”

“It’s all right, honey, you’ll get something. Everybody out of work now, you know that.”

“It ain’t right. Ain’t no man ought to eat his woman’s food year in and year out, and see his children running wild. Ain’t nothing right about that.”

“Honey, you took good care of us when you had it. Ain’t nobody got nothing nowadays.”

“I ain’t talking about nobody else, I’m talking about me. God knows I try.” My mother said something I could not hear, and my father cried out louder, “What must a man do, tell me that?”

# data[].attributes.body
“Y’all git! Go on home!” Then the rest of the kids let loose with their pebbles,..."

The way they talk?

# data[].attributes.body
Then I lost my head entirely, mad with the power of inciting such rage, and ran out of the bushes in the storm of pebbles, straight toward Miss Lottie, chanting madly, “Old witch, fell in a ditch, picked up a penny and thought she was rich!” The children screamed with delight, dropped their pebbles, and joined the crazy dance, swarming around Miss Lottie like bees and chanting, “Old lady witch!” while she screamed curses at us. The madness lasted only a moment, for John Burke, startled at last, lurched out of his chair, and we dashed for the bushes just as Miss Lottie’s cane went whizzing at my head.

# data[].attributes.body
I think now that we must have made a tragicomic

spectacle, five or six kids of different ages, each of us clad in only one garment — the girls in faded dresses that were too long or too short, the boys in patchy pants, their sweaty brown chests gleaming in the hot sun. A little cloud of dust followed our thin legs and bare feet as we tramped over the barren land.

# data[].attributes.body
The frozen moisture of its breathing had settled on its fur in a fine powder of frost, and especially were its jowls, muzzle, and eyelashes whitened by its crystalled breath. The man's red beard and mustache were likewise frosted, but more solidly, the deposit taking the form of ice and increasing with every warm, moist breath he exhaled

# data[].attributes.body
“Are you arrested for much, sir?” I inquired of Mr. Skimpole.

“My dear Miss Summerson,” said he, shaking his head pleasantly, “I don’t know. Some pounds, odd shillings, and halfpence, I think, were mentioned.”

“It’s twenty-four pound, sixteen, and sevenpence ha’penny,”
observed the stranger. “That’s wot it is.”
“And it sounds — somehow it sounds,” said Mr. Skimpole, “like a small sum?”
The strange man said nothing but made another snort. It was such a powerful one that it seemed quite to lift him out of his seat.

# data[].attributes.body
... while Richard, with a face of great embarrassment, looked at a person on the sofa, in a white great-coat, with smooth hair upon his head and not much of it, which he was wiping smoother and making less of with a pocket-handkerchief.

# data[].attributes.body
Not much dialouge was presented

# data[].attributes.headline
From "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County"

# data[].attributes.subject
From "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County"

# data[].attributes.body
[Here Simon Wheeler heard his name called from the front yard, and got up to see what was wanted.] And turning to me as he moved away, he said:

"Just set where you are, stranger, and rest easy I an't going to be gone a second."

But, by your leave, I did not think that a continuation of the history of the enterprising vagabond Jim Smiley would be likely to afford me much information concerning the Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, and so I started away. At the door I met the sociable Wheeler returning, and he button- holed me and recommenced:

"Well, thish-yer Smiley had a yeller one-eyed cow that didn't have no tail, only jest a short stump like a bannanner, and "

"Oh! hang Smiley and his afflicted cow!" I muttered, good-naturedly, and bidding the old gentleman good-day, I departed.

# data[].attributes.body
Say, Billy, I’ve quit the old business — a year ago. I’ve got a nice store. I’m making an honest living, and I’m going to marry the finest girl on earth two weeks from now. It’s the only life, Billy — the straight one. I wouldn’t touch a dollar of another man’s money now for a million

# data[].attributes.body
Agatha’s mother screamed again, hysterically.

“Hush!” said Mr. Adams, raising his trembling hand. “All be quiet for a moment. Agatha!” he called as loudly as he could. “Listen to me.” During the following silence they could just hear the faint sound of the child wildly shrieking in the dark vault in a panic of terror.

“My precious darling!” wailed the mother. “She will die of fright! Open the door! Oh, break it open! Can’t you men do something?”

“There isn’t a man nearer than Little Rock who can open that door,” said Mr. Adams, in a shaky voice. “My God! Spencer, what shall we do? That child — she can’t stand it long in there. There isn’t enough air, and, besides, she’ll go into convulsions from fright.” Agatha’s mother, frantic now, beat the door of the vault with her hands.

Also an example of Action

# data[].attributes.body
“I wanted a pair of blue suede shoes,” said the boy

(Maybe a popular style or material of show at the time)

# data[].attributes.body
“If I turn you loose, will you run?” asked the woman.
“Yes’m,” said the boy.

“Then I won’t turn you loose,” said the woman. She did not release him.

“I’m very sorry, lady, I’m sorry,” whispered the boy.
“Um-hum! And your face is dirty. I got a great mind  to wash your face for you. Ain’t you got nobody home to tell you to wash your face?”

“No’m,” said the boy.
“Then it will get washed this evening,” said the large woman starting up the street, dragging the frightened boy behind her.

# data[].attributes.body
The long June twilight faded into night. Dublin lay enveloped in darkness but for the dim light of the moon that shone through fleecy clouds, casting a pale light as of approaching dawn over the streets and the dark waters of the Liffey. Around the beleaguered.

Four Courts the heavy guns roared. Here and there through the city, machine guns and rifles broke the silence of the night, spasmodically, like dogs barking on lone farms.

# data[].attributes.body
He looked at the smoking revolver in his hand, and with an oath he hurled it to the roof at his feet. The revolver went off with a concussion and the bullet whizzed past the sniper’s head. He was frightened back to his senses by the shock. His nerves steadied. The cloud of fear scattered from his mind and he laughed.

# data[].attributes.body
The frozen moistness of its breathing had settled on its fur in a fine powder of frost. The hair on the man’s face was similarly frosted, but more solidly. It took the form of ice and increased with every warm, moist breath from his mouth. Also, the man had tobacco in his mouth. The ice held his lips so tightly together that he could not empty the juice from his mouth. The result was a long piece of yellow ice hang-ing from his lips.

# data[].attributes.body
The old man on sulphur creek called him a "greenhorn"  and even the 7- degrees below zero, the moccasins and mittens, all are details that would be considered "local color" ... even the "wolf dog."

# data[].attributes.body
“And then,” went on the old man, fiercely, “everything went red around me. I gripped my spike and dove and swam, as I never swam before, down to that lurking, ugly demon. In a second I was on him and stabbed him with all my might,—once, twice, three times,—until, dying, he went off the ledge into the depths below and I followed him beyond, to where no man may dare to swim. There he died. As his hateful mouth gaped I dragged out your father by the arm and brought him back to the top; but when I climbed with him into the canoe he was dead, and I was as you see me now

# data[].attributes.body
“Perhaps before night we may make the hundred of dollars you need for that sloop . . ." "Whoever heard,” he said at last, “of making a hundred of dollars in one day?”

# data[].attributes.body
Lune-green and amber, a strip of fading sky glowed across the trail of the vanished sun. Far below, the opal sea paled to mother-of-pearl. Then, over sea and sky, strode the sudden dark of the tropics and in an instant the southern stars flamed and flared through the violet night. A long, tense moment, with sea and sky waiting, and a rim of raw gold thrust itself above the horizon as the full moon of midsummer climbed toward the zenith.