The Best Ghost StoriesJoseph Lewis French Boni and Liveright, Incorporated, 1919 - 217 стор. |
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ain't no ghosts apparition asked Baby Van Rensselaer Banshee Bargrave believe black Mose Bloody Bones ca'se cried Darcy dark dead Dear Jones death Dennistoun Dey ain't door Duchess Eliphalet Duncan eyes face fear feel felt Frank frightened Funk ghost story ghostly gone gwine hair hand haunted haunted house head hear heard Heatherlegh house at Salem jack-o'-lantern Kitty knew lady laugh li'l light little old house living look mystery never night nuffin once Pan-pipes passed pause perhaps rabbi rickshaw road round sacristan seemed seen shadow silence silent woman Simla skeered sleep smile sound speak spirit spook stood strange suddenly talk tell terror thing thought tion told took turned Uncle Larry Veal Veile VINCENT O'SULLIVAN voice wall Wessington whin whut he name window wonder words young woman
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Сторінка 9 - You have seen her indeed ; for none knew, but Mrs. Veal and myself, that the gown was scoured." And Mrs. Watson owned that she described the gown exactly ; " for," said she,
Сторінка 161 - ... of urban origin, and the hat that lay by him on the floor (he was the only one uncovered) was such that if one had considered it as an article of mere personal adornment he would have missed its meaning. In countenance the man was rather prepossessing, with just a hint of sternness; though that he may have assumed or cultivated, as appropriate to one in authority. For he was a coroner. It was by virtue of his office that he had possession of the book in which he was reading; it had been found...
Сторінка 49 - The larvae grew lurid as things that live in fire. Again the room vibrated; again were heard the three measured knocks; and again all things were swallowed up in the darkness of the dark Shadow, as if out of that darkness all had come, into that darkness all returned. As the gloom receded, the Shadow was wholly gone. Slowly as it had been withdrawn, the flame grew again into the candles on the table, again into the fuel in the grate. The whole room came once more calmly, healthfully into sight. The...
Сторінка 54 - The instincts of the brute creation detect influences deadly to their existence. Man's reason has a sense less subtle, because it has a resisting power more supreme. But enough; do you comprehend my theory?" "Yes, though imperfectly — and I accept any crotchet (pardon the word), however odd, rather than embrace at once the notion of ghosts and hobgoblins we imbibed in our nurseries. Still, to my unfortunate house the evil is the same. What on earth can I do with the house?
Сторінка 8 - this seems so impertinent that I cannot tell how to comply with it ; and what a mortifying story will our conversation be to a young gentleman ! " " Well," says Mrs Veal,
Сторінка 38 - ... which, I should observe, we had taken with all the rooms we had searched below. The bedroom my servant had selected for me was the best on the floor — a large one, with two windows fronting the street. The four-posted bed, which took up no inconsiderable space, was opposite to the fire, which burned clear and bright ; a door in the wall to the left, between the bed and the window, communicated with the room which my servant appropriated to himself. This last was a small room with a...
Сторінка 133 - Singing and murmuring in her feastful mirth, Joying to feel herself alive, Lord over Nature, Lord of the visible earth, Lord of the senses five ; Communing with herself : ' All these are mine, And let the world have peace or wars, Tis one to me.
Сторінка 48 - ... and faster and swifter, swarming over my head, crawling over my right arm, which was outstretched in involuntary command against all evil beings. Sometimes I felt myself touched, but not by them; invisible hands touched me. Once I felt the clutch as of cold soft fingers at my throat. I was still equally conscious that if I gave way to fear I should be in bodily peril; and I concentrated all my faculties in the single focus of resisting, stubborn will.
Сторінка 160 - The man with the book was not reading aloud, and no one spoke; all seemed to be waiting for something to occur; the dead man only was without expectation. From the blank darkness outside came in, through the aperture that served for a window, all the ever unfamiliar noises of night in the wilderness — the long nameless note of a distant coyote; the stilly pulsing thrill of tireless insects in trees; strange cries of night birds, so different from those of the birds of day; the drone of great blundering...
Сторінка 169 - I am not mad; there are colors that we cannot see. "And, God help me! the Damned Thing is of such a color!