Richest Country he complexities of his history to the bow legged boy, and the interest they awakened in this young gentleman could not but be gratifying to his friend. He kept one eye closed during the story, as if he saw the whole thing too clearly at a glance. He broke the thread of Jan s narrative by comments which had no obvious bearing on the facts, and, when it was ended, be gave it as his opinion that certain penny romances which he named were a joke to it. Oh, my what a pity we can t employ a detective he said. Whoever knowed a young projidy find his noble relations without a detective But never mind, Jan. I knows their ways. I m up to their dodges. Fust of all, you makes up your mind deep down in your inside, and then you says nothing to nobody, but follows it up. Fol lows it up I don t know what to follow, said Jan and how can I make up my mind, when I know nothing That s just where it is, said his friend if you richest country knowed every thing, wot ud be the use of coming the detective tip, and making it up in your inside The bow legged boy had made it up in his. He had decided that Jan was a nobleman in disguise, and that his father was a duke, or a jook, as he called him. Jan s active imagination could not quite resist the influence of this romance, and he lay awake at night patching together the hunchback s reference to the nobs, and the incredulous glance of the dark eyed gentleman who had given him the half pence, and who was certainly a nob himself. And never did he leave the house on an errand for the painter that the bow legged boy did not burst forth, dish cloth or dirty boots in hand, from some unexpected quarter, and adjure him to look out for the jook. It was a lovely afternoon when, by his friend s advice, Jan betook himself to the Park, that the nobs might have that opportunity of recognizing him which the wide mouthed woman had feared. He had washed his face very clean, and brushed his old jacket with trembling hands, and the bow legged boy had tied a spotted scarf, that had been given to himself by a stableman in the mews opposite, round Jan s neck in what he called a gent s knot, and the poor child went to seek his fate with a beating heart. There were nobs enough. Round and round they came, in all the monotony of a not very exhilarating amusement. The crowd was so great that the carriages crawled rather than drove, and Jan could see the people well. Many a richest country lovely face, set in a soft frame of delicate hue, caught his artistic richest country eye, and he watched what is n95 mask for and recognized it again. But only a passing glance of languid curiosity met his eager gaze in return. Not a nob recognized him. But a policeman looked at him as if he did, and Jan crept away. When he got home, he found household matters at a standstill, for the bow legged.hooling, and George himself progressed so slowly in learning to read that he was at times tempted to give up the effort in despair. Of his late outburst against Abel he afterwards repented, as impolitic, and was soon good friends again with his very placable teacher. Much of the time when he should have been at work did George spend in puzzling over his position. Sometimes, as from an upper window of the mill he saw the little Jan in Abel s arms, he would mutter, If a body were to kidnap un, would they advertise he, I wonders and after some consideration would shake his white head doubtfully, saying, No, they wants to get rid of un, or they wouldn t have brought un here. Happily for poor little Jan, the unscrupulous rustic rejected the next idea which came to him as too doubtful of success. I wonder if they d come down something handsome to them as could tell em the young varmint was off their hands for good and all. Twould save un ten shilling a week. Ten shilling a week I heard un with my own ears. I d a kep un for five, if they d asked me. I wonders now. Little uns like that does get stole by gipsies sometimes. Varmer Smith s son were, and never heard on again. They falls into a mill race too sometimes. They be so venturesome. But I doubt twouldn t do. Them as it belongs to might be glad enough to get rid of un, and save their credit and their money too by turning upon I after all. The miller s man puzzled himself in vain. He could think of no mode of action at once safe and certain of success. He did not even know whether what he possessed had any value, or how or where to make use of it. But a sort of dim hope of seeing his way yet kept him about the mill, and he persevered in the effort to learn to read, and kept his big ears open for any thing that might drop from the miller or his wife to throw light on the history of Jan, with whom his hopes were bound up. Meanwhile, with a dogged patience, he bided his time. CHAPTER VIII. VISITORS AT THE MILL. A WINDMILLER OF THE THIRD GENERATION. CURE FOR WHOOPING COUGH. MISS AMABEL ADELINE AMMABY. DOCTORS DISAGREE. One of the earliest of Jan s remembrances of those remembrances, I mean, which remained with him when childhood was past was of little Miss Amabel, from the Grange, being held in the hopper of the windmill for whooping cough. Jan was between three and four years old at this richest country time, the idol of his foster mother, and a great favorite with his adopted brothers and sisters. A quaint little fellow he was, with a broad, intellectual looking face, serious to old fashionedness, very fair, and with eyes like slans. He was standing one morning at Mrs. Lake s apron string, his arms clasped lovingly, but somewhat too tightly, round the waist of a sandy kitten, who submitt.
esire, the rude memorial that marks the spot contains no more than his initials, and a few words in his native tongue to mark the foundation of the only ambition that he could feel in death Ich verlasse mich auf Gottes G uuml te immer und ewiglich. My trust is in the tender mercy of God for ever and ever. A BIT OF GREEN. Thou oughtest, therefore, to call to mind the more heavy sufferings of others, that so thou mayest the easier bear thy own very small troubles. The Imitation of Christ. Children who live always with grass and flowers at their feet, and richest country a clear sky overhead, can have no real idea of the charm that country sights and sounds have for those whose home is in a dirty, busy, manufacturing town just such a town, in fact, as I lived in face mask box price when I was a boy, which is more than twenty years ago. My father was a doctor, with a very large, if not what is called a genteel, practice, and we lived in a comfortable house in a broad street. I was born and bred there and, ever since I could remember, the last sound that soothed my ears at night, and the first to which I awoke in the morning, was the eternal rumbling and rattling of the carts and carriages as they passed over the rough stones. I never noticed if I heard them in the day time, but at night my 119 chief amusement, as I lay in bed, was to guess by the sound of the wheels what sort of vehicle was passing. That light sharp rattle is a cab, I thought. What a noise it makes, and gone in a moment One gentleman inside, I should think. There s an omnibus and there, jolty jolt, goes a light cart that s a carriage, by the way the horses step and now, rumbling heavily in the distance, and coming slowly nearer, and heavier, and louder, this can be nothing but a brewer s dray And the dray came so slowly that I was asleep before it had got safely out of hearing. Ours was a very noisy street, but the noise made the night cheerful and so did the church clock near, which struck the quarters and so did the light of the street lamps, which came through the blind and fell upon my little bed. We had very little light, except gaslight and daylight, in our street the sunshine seldom found its way to us, and, when it did, people were so little used to it that they pulled down the blinds for fear it should hurt the carpets. In the room my sister and I called our nursery, however, we always welcomed it with blinds rolled up to the very top and, as we had no carpet, no damage was done. But sunshine outside will not always make sunshine s 120 hine within, and I remember one day when, though our nursery was unusually cheerful, and though the windows were reflected in square patches of sunlight on the floor, I stood in the very midst of the brightness, grumbling and kicking at my sister.t the door as I turned into the garden, motioning me to hasten and then for the first time I became conscious that I was soaked to the skin. However in the world did you come to stay out when such a storm threatened she said. Oh, you are dripping Go quickly and change I have laid your warm underwear on the bed, Dick. I kissed my wife, and went upstairs to change my dripping clothes for something more comfortable. When I returned to the morning room there was a driftwood fire on the hearth, and Lys sat in the chimney corner embroidering. Catherine tells me that the fishing fleet from Lorient is out. Do you think they are in danger, dear asked where can i buy n95 mask Lys, raising her blue eyes to mine as I entered. There is no wind, and there will be no sea, said I, looking out of the window. Far across the moor I could see the black cliffs looming in the mist. How it rains murmured Lys come to the fire, Dick. I threw myself on the fur rug, my hands in my pockets, my head on Lys s knees. Tell me a story, I said. I feel like a boy of ten. Lys raised a finger to her scarlet lips. I always waited for her to do that. Will you be very still, then she said. Still as death. Death, echoed a voice, very softly. Did you speak, Lys I asked, turning so that I could see her face. No did you, Dick Who said death I asked, startled. Death, echoed a voice, softly. I sprang up and looked about. Lys rose too, her needles and embroidery falling to the floor. She seemed about to faint, leaning heavily on me, and I led her to the window and opened it a little way to give her air. As I did so the chain lightning split the zenith, the thunder crashed, and a sheet of rain swept into the room, driving with it something that fluttered something that flapped, and squeaked, and beat upon the rug with soft, moist wings. We bent over it together, Lys clinging to me, and we saw that it was a death s head moth drenched with rain. The dark day passed slowly as we sat beside the fire, hand in hand, her head against my breast, speaking of sorrow and mystery and death. For Lys believed that there were things on earth that none might understand, things that must be nameless forever and ever, until God rolls up the scroll of life and all is ended. We spoke of hope and fear and faith, and the mystery of the saints we spoke of the beginning and the end, of the shadow of sin, of omens, and of love. The moth still lay on the floor quivering its somber wings in the warmth of the fire, the skull and ribs clearly etched upon its neck and body. If it is a messenger of death to this house, I said, why should we fear, Lys Death should be welcome to those who love God, murmured Lys, and she drew the cross from her breast and kissed it. richest country The moth might die if I threw it out into the storm, I.ern ghostly stories is apparent in The Haunted Orchard, by Richard Le Gallienne, for this prose poem has an appeal of tenderness rather than of terror. And everybody who has had affection for a dog will appreciate the pathos of the little sketch, by Myla J. Closser, At the Gate. The dog appears more frequently as a ghost than does any other animal, perhaps because man feels that he is nearer the human, though the horse is as intelligent and as much beloved. There is an innate pathos about a dog somehow, that makes his appearance in ghostly form more credible and sympathetic, while the ghost of any other animal would tend to have a comic connotation. Other animals in fiction richest country have power of magic notably the cat but they don t appear as spirits. But the dog is seen as a pathetic symbol of faithfulness, as a tragic sufferer, or as a terrible revenge ghost. Dogs may come singly or in groups Edith Wharton has five of different sorts in Kerfol or in packs, as in Eden Phillpotts s Another Little Heath richest country Hound. An illuminating instance of the power of fiction over human faith is furnished by the case of Arthur Machen s The Bowmen, included here. This story it is which started the whole tissue respirator mask with face shield of legendry concerning supernatural aid given the allied armies during the war. This purely fictitious account of an angel army that saved the day at Mons was so vivid that its readers accepted it as truth and obstinately clung to that idea in the face of Mr. Machen s persistent and bewildered explanations that he had invented the whole thing. Editors wrote leading articles about it, ministers preached sermons on it, and the general public preferred to what is kn95 believe in the Mons angels rather than in Arthur Machen. Mr. Machen has shown himself an artist in the supernatural, one whom his generation has not been discerning enough to appreciate. Some of his material is painfully morbid, but his pen is magic and his inkwell holds many dark secrets. In this collection I have attempted to include specimens of a few of the distinctive types of modern ghosts, as well as to show the art of individual stories. Examples of the humorous ghosts are omitted here, as a number of them will be brought together in Humorous Ghost Stories, the companion volume to this. The ghost lover who reads these pages will think of others that he would like to see included for I believe that readers are more passionately attached to their own favorite ghost tales than to any other form of literature. But critics will admit the manifest impossibility of bringing together in one volume all the famous examples of the art. Some of the richest country well known tales, particularly the older ones on which copyright has expired, have been reprinted so often as to be almost hackneyed, while others.
Richest Country ould have made him take so much trouble to vex the peace, and stop the schooling, of her pet brother and as it was, the standing alone by the churchyard at night was a position so little to his taste, that he had drunk pretty heavily in the public house for half an hour beforehand, to keep up his richest country spirits. And now he had been paid back in his own coin, and lay grovelling in the mud, and calling profanely on the Lord, Whose mercy such men always cry for in their trouble, if they never ask it for their sins. He was so confused and blinded by drink and fright, that he did not see the second ghost divest himself of his encumbrances, or know that it was John Gardener, till that rosy cheeked worthy, his clenched hands still flaming with brimstone, danced round him, and shouted scornfully, and with that vehemence of aspiration, in which he was apt to indulge when excited Get hup, yer great cowardly booby, will yer So you thought you was coming hout to frighten a little lad, did ye And you met with one of your p95 vs p100 respirator hown size, did ye Now will ye get hup and take it like a man, or shall I give it you as ye lie there Bully Tom chose the least of two evils, and 229 staggering to his feet with an oath, rushed upon John. But in his present condition he was no match for the active little gardener, inspired with just wrath, and thoughts of Bessy and he then and there received such a sound thrashing as he had not known since he first arrogated the character of village bully. He was roaring loudly for mercy, and John Gardener was what happens to old n95 masks giving him a harmless roll where can i buy n95 respirator masks in the mud by way of conclusion, when he caught sight of the two young gentlemen in the lane Master Arthur in fits of laughter at the absurd position of the ex Yew lane Ghost and Mr. Lindsay standing still and silent, with folded arms, set lips, and the gold eye glass on his nose. As soon as he saw them, he began to shout, Murder help at the top of his voice. I see myself, said Master Arthur, driving his hands contemptuously into his pockets I see myself helping a great lout who came out to frighten a child, and can neither defend his own eyes and nose, nor take a licking with a good grace when he deserves it Bully Tom appealed to Mr. Lindsay. Yah yah he howled will you see a man killed for want of help But the clever young gentleman seemed even less inclined to give his assistance. Killed he said contemptuously I have seen 230 a lad killed on such a night as this, by such a piece of bullying Be thankful you have been stopped in time I wouldn t raise my little finger to save you from twice such a thrashing. It has been fairly earned Give the ghost his shroud, Gardener, and let him go and recommend him not to haunt Yew lane in future. John did so, with a few words of parting advice on hi.ssamine was becoming anxious, when where can i buy n95 masks in sf Jackanapes presented himself richest country with a ghastly face all besmirched with tears. He was unusually subdued. 21 I m afraid, he sobbed if you please, I m very much afraid that Tony Johnson s dying in the churchyard. Miss Jessamine was just beginning to be distracted, when she smelt Jackanapes. You naughty, naughty boys Do you mean to tell me that you ve been smoking Not pipes, urged Jackanapes upon my honor, Aunty, not pipes. Only segars like Mr. Johnson s and only made of brown paper with a very, very little tobacco from the shop inside them. Whereupon, Miss Jessamine sent a servant to the churchyard, who found Tony Johnson lying on a tomb stone, very sick, and having ceased to entertain any hopes of his own recovery. If it could be possible that any unpleasantness could arise between two such amiable neighbors as Miss Jessamine and Mrs. Johnson and if the still more incredible paradox can be that ladies may differ over a point on which they are agreed that point was the admitted fact that Tony Johnson was delicate, and the difference lay chiefly in this 22 Mrs. Johnson said that Tony was delicate meaning that he was more finely strung, more sensitive, a properer subject for pampering and petting than Jackanapes, and that, consequently, Jackanapes was to blame for leading Tony into scrapes which resulted in his being chilled, frightened, or most frequently sick. But when Miss Jessamine said that Tony Johnson was delicate, she meant antiviral mask face that he was more puling, less manly, and less healthily brought up than Jackanapes, who, when they got into mischief together, was certainly not to blame because his friend could not get wet, sit a kicking donkey, ride in the giddy go round, bear the noise of a cracker, or smoke brown paper with impunity, as he could. Not that richest country there was ever the slightest quarrel between the ladies. It never even came near it, except the day after Tony had been so very 23 sick with riding Bucephalus in the giddy go round. Mrs. Johnson had explained to Miss Jessamine that the reason Tony was so easily upset, was the unusual sensitiveness as a doctor had explained it to her of the nervous centres in her family Fiddlestick So Mrs. Johnson understood Miss Jessamine to say, but it appeared that she only said Treaclestick which is quite another thing, and of which Tony was undoubtedly fond. Jackanapes could hardly sleep for Speculating It was at the fair that Tony was made ill by 24 riding on Bucephalus. Once a year the Goose richest country Green became the scene of a carnival. First of all, carts and caravans were rumbling up all along, day and night. Jackanapes could hear them as he lay in bed, and could hardly sleep for speculating what booths and whirligigs he should find fairly established, w.