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Updated: May 7, 2025
The black bug flew into a room where a poor student was reading. His lamp was only a dish of earthenware full of rape seed oil with a wick made of pith. Knowing nothing of oil the love-lorn bug crawled into the dish to reach the flame and in a few seconds was drowned in the oil. "Nan jaro?"
They climbed up to the high level prairie that sweeps westward from the Walnut bluffs. "Doodby, folks. I want to Botany wiv urn over there. I turn wiv Limpy out here." Bug pointed to a group of students wandering about in search of dogtooth violets and other botanical plunder from Nature's springtime treasury. Among the group was Bug's chum, the crippled student.
The shimmering atmosphere, hostile to man, which sealed the red desert was a lens that distorted and concealed by its intervention. The groundcar was a mechanical bug, an alienness with which timorous man had allied himself; allied with it against reality, she and Nuwell were hastened by it through reality, unseeing, toward the goal of a more comfortable unreality.
His better tales are remarkable for their originality and ingenuity of construction, and in the best of them he rises to a high level of imagination, as in The House of Usher, while The Gold Beetle or Golden Bug is one of the first examples of the cryptogram story; and in The Purloined Letters, The Mystery of Marie Roget, and The Murders in the Rue Morgue he is the pioneer of the modern detective story.
His mouth hurt; but he plunged and pulled just the same, and jerked his head and squirmed and wriggled and twisted. And just as Fatty had almost given up hope of getting free, the gay-colored bug, or fly, or whatever it was, flew out of his mouth and took the line with it. At least, that was what Fatty Coon thought. And he swam quickly to the bank and scampered into the bushes.
Be keerful not to show the tip of your head, an' don't knock nothin' off'en the bank into the water. Watch fer trout. Look everywheres, an' drop in a bug now and then. I'll do the same fer the other stream. Then we'll come back here an' talk over what the fish has to say about the Injuns." Joe walked down stream a few paces, and, dropping on his knees, crawled carefully to the edge of the bank.
It might have been the frame of some vast, metallic tumble bug, that, crawling ominously along this road of death, had come into the path of a Colossus, and been stepped upon, and then kicked aside from the road to die. "That's what's left of one of our first tanks," said Godfrey. "We used them first in this battle of the Somme, you remember. And that must have been one of the very earliest ones.
"Yes; in one of the stories called 'The Gold Bug. Where is the book?" "I lent it to Maxton, but I should think he's finished it by this time. I'll go and see." "All right," said Diggory, pocketing the slip of paper; "you get it, and then I can show you what I mean. Come on, Jack; let's go out."
"What a gall!" he grunted, folding up the yellow sheet of pad paper upon which he had taken down the message to all mankind and thrusting it into his book for a marker. "All the fools aren't dead yet!" Then he picked up the Lincoln and got down to real work. The "bug" and his message passed from memory. The following Thursday afternoon a perspiring and dusty stranger from St.
Now, if I hear a potato bug whistle a tune on a cornstalk fiddle, I'm going to tell you next about Buddy and Brighteyes going in bathing. "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Buddy Pigg one day. "Oh, dear! Oh, dear me suz dud!" "Why, Buddy, dear, whatever in the world is the matter?" asked his mamma, and Brighteyes, who was mending some stockings, looked up at her brother in much surprise.
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