A descent into the Maelstrom ; The gold-bug ; Mellonta tauta ...
| dc.contributor | Internet Wiretap |
| dc.contributor.author | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 |
| dc.coverage.placeName | London ; Philadelphia |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2018-07-27 |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2019-07-04T09:57:56Z |
| dc.date.available | 2019-07-04T09:57:56Z |
| dc.date.created | 1895 |
| dc.date.issued | 1993-05-06 |
| dc.identifier | ota:1855 |
| dc.identifier.citation | http://purl.ox.ac.uk/ota/1855 |
| dc.identifier.uri | http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.12024/1855 |
| dc.description.abstract | Transcriptions taken from vol. I |
| dc.format.extent | Text data (1 file : ca. 610 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 descent into the Maelstrom ; The gold-bug ; Mellonta tauta ... |
| dc.type | Text |
| has.files | yes |
| branding | Oxford Text Archive |
| files.size | 631248 |
| files.count | 2 |
| otaterms.date.range | 1800-1899 |
This item is
Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)
Publicly Available
and licensed under:Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)
Files for this item
Download all local files for this item (616.45 KB)
- Name
- poe-1855.txt
- Size
- 610.42 KB
- Format
- Text file
- Description
- Version of the work in plain text format
A Descent into the Maelstrom
The ways of God in Nature, as in Providence, are not as our ways;
nor are the models that we frame in any way commensurate to the
vastness, profundity, and unsearchableness of His works which
have a depth in them greater than the well of Democritus.
JOSEPH GLANVILL
We had now reached the summit of the loftiest crag. For
some minutes the old man seemed too much exhausted to speak.
'Not long ago,' said he at length, 'and I could have guided
you on this route as well as the youngest of my sons; but, about
three years past, there happened to me an event such as never
happened before to mortal man--or, at least, such as no man ever
survived to tell of--and the six hours of deadly terror which I
then endured have broken me up body and soul. You suppose me a
very old man--but I am not. It took less than a single day to
change these hairs from a jetty black to white, to weaken my
limbs, and . . .
