 In the name of the law, by Stanley J. Wayman. This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. In the name of the law. On the moorland above the old grey village of Cal Bay in Finistell, Finistell, the most westerly province of Brittany, stands a cottage built, as all the cottages in that country are, of rough, hewn stones. It is a poor, rude place today, but it wore an aspect far more rude and primitive a hundred years ago. Say, on an August day in the year 1793, when a man issued from the doorway, and shading his eyes from the noonday sun, gazed long and fixedly in the direction of a narrow rift, which a few scorepaces away breaks the monotony of the upland level. This man was tall, and thin, and unkempt, his features expressing a mixture of coming and simplicity. He gazed a while in silence, but at length uttered a grunt of satisfaction, as the figure of a woman rose gradually into sight. She came on slowly, in a stooping posture, dragging behind her a great load of straw, which completely hid the little sledge on which it rested, and which was attached to her waist by a rope of twisted hay. The figure of a woman, rather of a girl, as she drew nearer it could be seen that her cheeks, though brown and sunburned, were as smooth as a child's, she looked scarcely 18. Her head was bare, and her short petticoats of some coarse stuff left visible bare feet thrust into wooden shoes. She advanced with her head bent, and her shoulders strained forward, her face dull and patient. Once and once only, when the man's eyes left her for a moment, she shot him a look of scared apprehension. And later, when she came abreast of him, her breath coming and going with her exertions, he might have seen, had he looked closely, that her strong brown limbs were trembling under her. But the man noticed nothing in his impatience, and only chid her for her slowness. Where have you been dawdling, lazy bones? he cried. She murmured, without halting, that the sun was hot. Sun hot, he retorted. Jan is lazy, I think. Mon Dieu, that I should have married a wife who was tired by noon. I have better left you to that never-do-well Pierre Buna. But I have news for you, my girl. He lounged after her as he spoke, his low, cunning face. The face of the worst kind of French peasant, flickering with cruel pleasure, as he saw how she started at his words. She made no answer, however. Instead, she drew her load with increased vehemence towards one of the two doors which led into the building. Well, well, I will tell you presently, he called after her. Be quick and come to dinner. He entered himself by the other door. The house was divided into two chambers by a breast-high partition of wood. The one room served for kitchen. The other, now half full of straw, was barn and granary, fowl-house and dove-cot in one. Be quick, he called to her. Standing in the house-room, he could see her head as she stooped to unload the straw. In a moment she came in, her shoes clattering on the floor. The perspiration stood in great beads on her forehead and showed how little she had deserved his reproach. She sat down silently, avoiding his eyes. But he thought nothing of this. It was no new thing. It pleased him, if anything. Well, my Jean, he said in his jibing tone. Are you longing for my news? The hand she stretched out towards the picture of cider, which, with black bread and onions, formed their meal, shook. But she answered simply, If you please, Michelle. Well, the Girondins have been beaten, my girl, and are flying all over the country. That is the news. Master Pierre is among them, I do not doubt, if he has not been killed already. I wish he would come this way. Why? she asked, suddenly looking up at last a flash of light in her grey eyes. Why? he repeated, grinning across the table at her, because he would be worth five crowns to me. There is five crowns, I am told, ahead of every Girondins who has been in arms, my girl. The French Revolution, it will be understood, was at its height. The more moderate and constitutional Republicans, the Girondins, as they were called, worsted in Paris by the Jacobins, and the mob had lately tried to raise the provinces against the capital, and to this end had drawn together at Gant, near the border of Brittany. They had been defeated, however, and the Jacobins, in this month of August, were preparing to take a fearful vengeance at once on them and the royalists. The reign of terror had begun. Even to such a bore as this, sitting over his black bread, the Revolution had come home, and in common with many a thousand others, he wondered what he could make of it. The girl did not answer, even by the look of contempt to which he had become accustomed, and for which he hated her. And he repeated five crowns. Ah, it is money, that is, mon Dieu. Then, with a sudden exclamation, he sprang up. What is that? he cried. He had been sitting with his back to the barn, but he turned now so as to face it. Something had startled him, a rustling in the straw behind him. What is that? he said again, his hand on the table, his face lowering and watchful. The girl had risen also, and, as the last word passed his lips, sprang by him with a low cry and aimed a frantic blow with her stool at something he could not see. What is it? he asked, recoiling. A rat, she answered, breathless, and she aimed another blow at it. Where? he asked fretfully. Where is it? he snatched his stool, too, and at that moment a rat darted out of the straw, ran nimbly between his legs and plunged into a hole by the door. He flung the wooden stool after it, but, of course, in vain. It was a rat, he said, as if before he had doubted it. Thank God, she muttered, she was shaking all over. He stared at her in stupid wonder. What did she mean? What had come to her? Have you had a sunstroke, my girl? he said suspiciously. Her nut-brown face was a shade less brown than usual, but she met his eyes boldly and said, No, adding an explanation which, for the moment, satisfied him. But he did not sit down again. When she went out, he went out also, and though, as she retired slowly to the rye fields and work, she repeatedly looked back at him. It was always to find his eyes upon her. When this had happened half a dozen times, a thought struck him. Here, now, he muttered, the rat ran out of the straw. Nevertheless, he still stood gazing after her with a cunning look upon his features until she disappeared over the edge of the rift, and then he crept back to the door of the barn and stole in out of the sunlight into the cool darkness of the raftered building across which a dozen rays of light were shooting, laden with dancing motes. Inside he stood stock still until he had regained the use of his eyes, and then he began to peer round him. In a moment he found what he sought. Half upon and half hidden by this straw lay a young man in a deep sleep of utter exhaustion. His face, which bore traces of more than common beauty, was now white and pinched. His hair hung dank about his forehead. His clothes were in rags, and his feet, bound up in pieces torn at random from his blouse, were raw and bleeding. For a short while Michel Tellier bent over him, remarking these things with glistening eyes. Then the peasant stole out again. It is five crowns, he muttered, blinking in the sunlight. Ha-ha! Five crowns! He looked round cautiously, but could see no sign of his wife, and after hesitating and pondering a minute or two he took the path for Carpe, his native astuteness leading him to saunter slowly along in his ordinary fashion. After that the moorland about the cottage lay seemingly deserted. Thrice at intervals the girl dragged home her load of straw, but each time she seemed to linger in the barn no longer than was necessary. Michel's absence, though it was unlooked for, raised no suspicion in her breast, for he would frequently go down to the village to spend the afternoon. The sun sank lower, and the shadow of the great monolith, which, standing on the highest point of the moor, about a mile away, rose gaunt and black against the roséed sky. Grew longer and longer, and then as twilight fell the two coming home met a few paces from the cottage. They asked some questions about the work she had been doing, and she answered briefly. Then silent and uncommunicative they went in together. The girl set the bread and cider on the table and, going to the great black pot which had been simmering all day upon the fire, poured some broth into two pictures. It did not escape Michel's frugal eye that there was still a little broth left in the bottom of the pot, which induced a new feeling in him, anger. When his wife hailed him by a sign to the mill, he went instead to the door and fastened it. Thence he went to the corner and picked up the woodchopper, and armed with this came back to his seat. The girl watched his movements first with surprise and then with secret terror. The twilight was come and the cottage was almost dark, and she was alone with him. Or, if not alone, yet with no one near, who could help her? Yet she met his grin of triumph bravely. What is this? she said. Why do you want that? For the rat, he answered grimly. His eyes on hers. Why not use your stall? She strove to murmur her heart, sinking. Not for this rat, he answered. It might not do, my girl. I know all about it, he continued. I have been down to the village and seen the mare, and he is coming up to fetch him. He nodded towards the partition, and she knew that her secret was known. It is Pierre, she said, trembling violently, and turning first crimson and then white. I know it, Jean. It was excellent of you. Excellent! It is long since you have done such a day's work. You will not give him up. My faith I shall," he answered, affecting and perhaps really feeling, wonder at her simplicity. He is five crowns, girl. You do not understand. He is worth five crowns and the risk nothing at all. If he had been angry or shown anything of the fury of the suspicious husband, if he had been about to do this out of jealousy or revenge, she would have quailed before him, though she had done him no wrong, save the wrong of mercy and pity. But his spirit was too mean for the great passions. He felt only the sordid ones, which to a woman are the most hateful, and instead of quailing, she looked at him with flashing eyes. I shall warn him," she said. It will not help him," he answered, sitting still, and feeling the edge of the hatchet with his fingers. I will help him," she retorted. He shall go. He shall escape before they come. I have locked the doors. Give me the key," she panted. Give me the key, I say. She had risen and was standing before him, her figure drawn to its full height. He rose hastily and retreated behind the table, still retaining the hatchet in his grasp. Stand back," he said sullenly. You may awaken him if you please my girl. It will not avail him. Do you not understand, fool, that he is worth five crowns? And listen, it is too late now. They are here." A blow fell on the door as he spoke, and he stepped towards it. But at that despair moved her, and she threw herself upon him, and for a moment wrestled with him. At last, with an effort, he flung her off, and brandishing his weapon in her face, kept her at bay. You vixen," he cried, savagely retreating to the door, with a pale cheek and his eyes still on her, for he was an arant coward. You deserve to go to prison with him, you jade. I will have you in the stocks for this. She leaned against the wall where she had fallen, her white, despairing face seeming almost to shine in the darkness of the wretched room. Meanwhile the continuous murmur of men's voices outside could now be heard, mingled with the ring of weapons, and the summons for admission was again and again repeated, as if those without had no mind to be kept waiting. Patience, patience, I am opening," he cried. Still keeping his face to her, he unlocked the door and called on the men to enter. He is in the straw, Monsieur Le Maire," he cried, in a tone of triumph. His eyes still on his wife. He will give you no trouble, I will answer for it. But first give me my five crowns, maire, my five crowns." He still felt so much fear of his wife that he did not turn to see the men enter, and was taken by surprise when a voice at his elbow, a strange voice, said, Five crowns, my friend, for what may I ask? In his etherness and excitement he suspected nothing, but thought only that the maire had sent a deputy. For what? For the giron d'un," he answered rapidly. Then at last he turned and found that half a dozen men had entered, and that more were entering. To his astonishment they were all strangers to him, men with stern, gloomy faces and armed to the teeth. There was something so formidable in their appearance that his voice faltered as he added. But where is the maire, gentlemen? I do not see him. No one answered, but in silence the last of the men, there were eleven in all, entered and bolted the door behind him. Michel Tellier peered at them in the gloom with growing alarm. In return the tallest of the strangers, who had entered first and seemed to be in command, looked round keenly. At length this man spoke. So you have a giron d'un here, have you? he said, his voice curiously sweet and sonorous. I was to have five crowns for him, Michel muttered dubiously. Oh, patience! continued the spokesman, to one of his companions. Can you kindle a light? It strikes me that we have hit upon a dark place. The man addressed took something from his pouch. For a moment there was silence broken only by the sharp sound of the flints striking the steel. Then a sudden glare lit up the dark interior and disclosed the group of cloaked strangers standing about the door, the light gleaming back from their muskets and cutleresses. Michel trembled. He had never seen such men as these before. True, they were wet and travel-stained, and had the air of those who spent their nights in ditches and under haystacks. But their pale, stern faces were set in indomitable resolve. Their eyes glowed with a steady fire, and they trod as kings tread. Their leader was a man of majestic height and beauty, and in his eyes alone there seemed to lurk a spark of some light of fire, as if his spirit still rose above the task which had sobered his companions. Michel noted all this in fear and bewilderment, noted the white head and yet vigorous bearing of the man who had struck the light, noted even the manner in which the light died away in the dim recesses of the barn. And this year on down, is he in hiding here? said the tall man. That is so, Michel answered, but I had nothing to do with hiding him, citizen. It was my wife hid him in the straw there. And you gave notice of his presence to the authorities, continued the stranger, raising his hand to repress some movement among his followers. Certainly, or you would not have been here, replied Michel, better satisfied with himself. The answer struck him down with an awful terror. That does not follow, said the tall man, coolly, for we are Girondins. You are? Without doubt, the other answered, with majestic simplicity, or there are no such persons. This is Pétion and Nis, citizen Boussot. Have you heard of Louvet? There he stands, for me, I am Barbarou. Michel's tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. He could not utter a word, but another could. On the far side of the barrier a sudden rustling was heard and while all turned to look, but with what different feelings? The pale face of the youth over whom Michel had bent in the afternoon, appeared above the partition. A smile of joyful recognition it faced for the time the lines of exhaustion. The young man, clinging for support to the planks, uttered a cry of thankfulness. It is you, it is really you, you are safe, he exclaimed. We are safe all of us Pierre, Barbarou answered, and now, and he turned to Michel Tellier with a sudden thunder in his voice. This man whom you would have betrayed is our guide, let me tell you, whom we lost last night. Speak, man, in your defence, if you can. Say what you have to say why justice shall not be done upon you, miserable K. Tiff, who would have sold a man's life for a few pieces of silver. The wretched peasant's knees trembled and the perspiration stood upon his brow. He heard the voice as the voice of a judge. He looked in the stern eyes of the Girondins and read only anger and vengeance. Then he caught in the silence the sound of his wife weeping, for at Pierre's appearance she had broken into wild sobbing and he spoke out of the base instincts of his heart. He was her lover, he muttered, I swear it, citizens. He lies, quite the man at the barrier, his face transfigured with rage. I loved her, it is true, but it was before her old father sold her to this Judas for what he would have you believe now, my friends, it is false, I, too, swear it. A murmur of execration broke from the group of Girondins. Babaru repressed it by gesture. What do you say of this man? He asked, turning to them, his voice deep and solemn. He is not fit to live, they answered in chorus. The poor coward screamed as he heard the words and flinging himself on the ground he embraced Babaru's knees in a paroxysm of terror but the judge did not look at him. Babaru turned instead to Pierre Bounard. What do you say of him? he asked. He is not fit to live, said the young man solemnly, his breath coming quick and fast. And you? Babaru continued turning and looking with his eyes at fire at the wife, his voice gentle and yet more solemn. A moment before she had ceased to weep and had stood up listening and gazing awe and wonder in her face, Babaru had to repeat his question before she answered. Then she said, he is not fit to die. There was silence for a moment broken only by the entreaties of the wretch on the floor. At last Babaru spoke. She has said rightly, he pronounced, he shall live. They have put us out of the law and set a price on our heads, but we will keep the law. He shall live. But Hark you! the greaterator continued in tones which Michelle never forgot. If a whisper escape you as to our presence here or our names or you wrong your wife by word or deed the life she has saved shall pay for it. Remember, he added, shaking Michelle to and fro with a finger the arm of Babaru is long and though I be a hundred leagues away I shall know and I shall punish. So beware now, rise and live. The miserable man cowered back to the wall frightened to the core of his heart. The Girondin conferred a while in whispers to of their number visiting Pierre to cross the barrier. Suddenly there came when Michelle trembled anew as he heard it a loud knocking at the door all started and stood listening and waiting. A voice outside cried Open! Open! in the name of the law. We have lingered too long Babaru muttered I should have thought of this it is the mayor of Calbe come to apprehend our friend. Again the Girondin conferred together at last seeming to arrive at a conclusion they ranged themselves on either side of the door and one of their number opened it. A short salt man girt with a trickle of sash and wearing a huge sword entered with an air of authority being blinded by the light he saw nothing out of the common and was followed by four men armed with muskets. Their appearance produced an extraordinary effect on Michelle Tellier as they one by one crossed the threshold the peasant leaned forward his face flushed his eyes gleaming and counted them there were only five and the others were twelve he fell back and from that moment his belief in the Girondin's power was clinched in the name of the law panted the mayor then he stopped abruptly his mouth remaining open he found himself surrounded by a group of grim silent mutes with arms in their hands and in a twinkling it flashed into his mind that these were the eleven chiefs of the Girondin whom he had been warned to keep watch for he had come to catch a pigeon and had caught a crow he turned pale and his eyes dropped who are who are these gentlemen? he stammered in a ludicrously altered tone some volunteers of Gumpon returning home replied Barbarou with ironical smoothness you have your papers citizens the mayor asked mechanically and he took a step back towards the door and looked over his shoulder here they are C'est Pacion, rudely thrusting a packet into his hands they are in order the mayor looked at them and longing only to see the outside of the door he pretended to look through them his little heart going pitter-patter within him they seem to be in order he assented feebly I need not trouble you further citizen I came here under a misapprehension I find and I wish you a good journey he knew as he backed out that he was cutting a poor figure he would feign have made a more dignified retreat but before these men fugitives and outlaws as they were felt though he was mayor of Carpe almost a smaller man as did Michel Tellier these were the men of the revolution they had bearded nobles and pulled down kings there was Barbarou who had grappled with Marat and Pacion the mayor of the Bastille the little mayor of Carpe knew greatness when he saw it he turned tail and hurried back to his fireside his bodyguard not a witt behind him five minutes later the men he feared and envied came out also and went their way passing in single file into the darkness which brooded over the great monolith beginning brave hearts another of the few stages which still lay between them and the guillotine then in the cottage there remained only Michel and Jean she sat by the dying embers silent and lost in thought he leaned against the wall his eyes roving ceaselessly but always when his gaze met hers it fell Barbarou had conquered him it was not until Jean had risen to close the door and he was alone that he wrung his hands and muttered five crowns five crowns gone and wasted end of in the name of the law by Stanley J. Wayman Isabel gives a New Year's dinner and brings mother to the rescue by Diana Parrish this is LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Wayne Cook Isabel gives a New Year's dinner and brings mother to the rescue fate seemed to be against Tom and Isabel's New Year's dinner and brings mother to the rescue fate seemed to be against Tom and Isabel's New Year's Eve dinner party from the start the very day itself began with a blinding storm which made one very disagreeable it was so dark that she and Tom were half an hour late in getting up the baby waked and hindered them with a peevish fretting so the Tom was three quarters of an hour later than usual when he dashed off the porch to catch a car for the office without kissing Isabel both of them were annoyed that he should be late for work on the very day that he was going to bring his manager and his wife home for dinner it looked as if he were making extraordinary preparations Tom wanted the dinner to be without pretense just the usual sort of dinner that they had every night Isabel watched Tom from the door with her lace cap awry and dangerously near covering completely one eye in her dismay at not being kissed goodbye she scarcely noticed it then suddenly be thinking herself of the task before her she wheeled about a puff of smoke from the chafing dish met her eye her nose told her that the electric current under it had not been turned off and that the remains of the scrambled eggs from breakfast had been burned into abominable smelling gas she switched off the current and carried the blackened pan to the kitchen the burnt eggs struck her as being a bad omen Isabel gathered the dishes into the sink misily planning the while the best procedure for the day the pastry must be made immediately after the dishes were finished the thought of making pastry on the day of company was rather disturbing indeed Isabel was conscious of a feeling of guilt when she recalled that she had spent the two days before in shopping and at parties instead of beginning preparations for the dinner for Mr. Benson and his wife she wondered if she could not omit the pastry from her menu but she remembered that Tom had asked especially to have green pea patties as he had told Mr. Benson about the delicious ones Isabel could make and had promised to let him sample them no Tom should not be disappointed and Isabel splashed into the dishes so that she could make good her promise as she dried the first plate she heard a faint sound of crying from the bedroom in her deep absorption she had forgotten to feed and dress the baby she listened again the cries grew stronger and she hastened in darling do's move a forget Tommy howl the louder no doubt to show appreciation of his mother's attention there there she soothed with queer little twists of the voice which we like to use on infants but the infant could not be soothed and while he was being bathed, dressed and fed he cried fretfully poor Isabel was nearly distracted when she finally got him into his little bed asleep mercy it's half past eleven she screamed glancing at the clock and I haven't done one thing Isabel pondered better to give up the idea of pastry but Tom's promise to Mr. Benson why oh why had the boy promised to give the boss a taste of his wife's pastry he resolved that her husband should not be disappointed leaving the dishes unfinished she began on the pastry in order to get it into the ice chest to chill properly carefully she measured the ingredients for the wonderful paste a pound of flour and a pound of butter sift the flour then work in part of the butter add sufficient ice water to make a dough of the right consistency a intricate folding in of the remaining butter how queer the butter seemed today it was impossible to get it right the flour seemed to stick to it in large lumps some of the flour was full of butter and some of it was totally without she worked the paste round and round in her anxiety she worked it too long and the paste formed into a sticky mass instead of crisp looking dough in desperation she added a little more flour hoping to get the right results but it was no use with disturbing visions beginning to haunt her she pushed the stuff into the refrigerator then she turned hastily to her dishes as she put her hands into the dishpan she glanced nervously at the clock she was shocked to see the fingers pointing to half past one she had spent two hours with the wretched paste horrified she considered again the mayonnaise must be made that very minute if they were to have salad it also must be chilled thoroughly Isabel brought olive oil from the refrigerator and broke the yolks of two eggs into a bowl she beat the eggs hurriedly mentally chiding herself the while for so foodlessly leaving her preparation until the last day she added a pinch of salt to thicken the yolks and beat on and on then a drop of oil into the eggs beating slowly and carefully a little more oil, more beating and the dressing was beautifully thickened yellow now a spoonful of lemon juice and then the oil again the rest was easy the mayonnaise being well started the oil could be poured in more rapidly she turned in a thin stream which thickened up quickly under the beater she lifted the can again a thin stream started slowly out and ended in drops Isabel sank into a chair in consternation the oil can was empty with a sinking heart she realized that it was Wednesday afternoon and the grocery stores were all closed she also plainfully remembered that the Benson's disliked any sort of boiled salad dressing Isabel pulled herself together sharply there was not a minute to be lost banishing the disturbing thoughts of the dishes and the untidy house she brought in the chickens she cut the string from the parcel and turned out two big fat chickens into a fresh bed of parsley Joel, the Italian poultryman had kept his word very well I clean him very good madam, I clean him very good encouraged by the appearance of the poultry, Isabel made haste with the stuffing which was to be made with nothing less delectable than chestnuts she opened the bag of nuts and after determined and painful effort succeeded in tearing them from their shells nothing daunted she proceeded according to the directions of the cookbook and poured boiling water over the wonderful nuts yes Isabel was making chestnut stuffing for the first time she was going against the oldest maximum her mother possessed never try a new dish for company it seemed as if the boiling water created an immediate affinity between those nuts and their tough brown skins Isabel gingerly pulled one of them out and tried to peel off the skin it stuck like the proverbial paper on the wall she tried another and another she cut her finger with a sharp little knife then she tried another at that moment the telephone rang frantically it was a shock to Isabel it woke Tommy up and started him crying the bell kept on ringing Isabel rushed to answer it hello she said hello number please could the cool honey sweet voice of the telephone operator number screamed Isabel didn't she just ring here wrong number floated over the wire in the telephone switch clicked in Isabel's ear she hung up the receiver and started toward the bedroom taking up the baby she walked the floor with him it was not scientific to do such a thing but for that matter the latest authorities on baby raising disapproved of picking the child up at all he should be left to cry until he stopped anyway she was not in a mood for science so she patted the baby and bounced him about as she fretted over the dinner I was silly to leave all these things until today and I should have done what Tom told me to do get Bessie to tend the baby I a dreadful squall from Tommy cut short a reflection whatever is the matter with this child she walked hurriedly to and fro swinging and swaying her son she undid his clothes and made an exhaustive examination for any stray pins which are the terror of the young mother's life and still the child cried Isabelle was trembling now she was terrified by the violent screams back and forth back and forth she paced utterly helpless to know what to do should she telephone Tom? Tom was probably busy with Mr. Benson it might mean a disturbance should she telephone her mother? she didn't like to bother her mother anyway who would hold the baby while she did telephone back and forth at length she dropped into a chair exhausted by the excitement and worry tears rolled down her cheeks and mingled with those of the howling baby just then there was a slight tap at the door and mother smiling brightly pushed in you poor dear began mother totally ignoring the appearance of the house the baker boy told me he heard your baby crying so I came over she could not speak she weekly handed the baby to her mother mother felt the child examined his clothes and then laying him face downward over her arm she walked into the kitchen about what I thought she murmured to herself as she poured boiling water over the powdered catnip leaves which she had ventured to bring along while the tea steeped she tried to soothe the child who seemingly affected by her very presence quieted down to fitful squeaks a little cream and a little sugar in the tea and then between squeals Tommy was fed his catnip tea mother's faithful cure all will he be all right asked the frightened daughter following her mother into the kitchen quite answered mother the very relief seemed to unnerve Isabel further she wept unrestrainably meanwhile telling mother of her distress I should have done the pastry yesterday all the things for that matter today everything I touched went wrong the pace is a complete failure and all my butter is gone except what I need for the table my oil was gone and I did not know it until too late and I couldn't skin the horrid chestnuts spluttered Isabel between sobs mother's eyebrows went up at the word chestnuts wisely she refrained from asking questions she tiptoed into the bedroom and laid the sleeping baby down now about dinner she came back into the kitchen and glanced at the clock three o'clock without scruple mother rolled up the sleeves of her best afternoon blouse she tied an apron around her waist how would it be to serve they spared this hot with butter and served plain lettuce as a salad with that old Spanish dressing made of cream Isabel nodded acquiescence you run along and straighten these rooms and lay the table I'll get these things started in the face of disaster mother was the seasoned soldier Isabel the raw recruit the way mother whipped into that dinner was something to glory in under her swift fingers a little flour lard salt and water became crisp crinkling patties of a perfect brown under her skilful hands breadcrumbs a little butter finely minced onion and seasoning became the savory filling that sent a tempting fragrance in the kitchen when the chickens went into the oven a little whipped cream thinned with a few drops of vinegar sweetened with sugar and toned up with paprika the dressing fit to grace a king's table Isabel came into the kitchen and found the transformation she knew what wizard deeds her mother could do but it seemed to her they had never been so magical before now you get into your dinner dress dear you will have time for a little rest I'll take baby home with me and send Beatrice over to help you Isabel choked up again how can you be so wonderful mother how could I thank you or return the kindness and however did you know how to manage the baby mother rolled down her sleeves slowly wait till you have seven and she smiled her knowing little smile end of Isabel gives a new year's dinner and brings mother to the rescue by Diana Farish a lost day by Edgar Fawcett 1847 to 1904 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information not a volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Peter Tomlinson my family John Dalrymple would say has the strange failing that is nearly all of them except myself on the paternal side of and then somebody would always try to interrupt him at the grimacy the small but charming club of which he had been for years an honoured member they made a point of interrupting him when he began on his family failing not a few of them held to the belief that it was a myth of Dalrymple's imagination still others argued all of the clan except John himself had been a queer lot there was no real certainty that they had not done extraordinary acts meanwhile apart from his desire to delve among ancestral records and repeat tales which had been told many times before he was a genuine favourite with his friends but that series of family anecdotes remained a standing joke they all pitched him that his engagement to the pretty Winston widow Mrs Carrington was definitely broken he was passed forty now and had not been known to pay serious court to any woman before in at least ten years of course Mrs Carrington was rich but then her money could not have attracted Dalrymple for he was rich himself in spite of his plain way of living there in that small twenty second street basement house but the widow's money had doubtless lure to her side the gentleman who had cut poor Dalrymple out a number of years ago when this little occurrence which we are chronicling took place it was not so easy as it is now to make sure of a foreigner's credentials and antecedents the count of Pomeroyle a refuted French nobleman of high position had managed to get into the Grammarcy as a six months member and had managed also to cross the thresholds of numerous select New York drawing rooms at the very period of his introduction to Mrs Carrington her engagement with Dalrymple had already become publicly announced then in a few weeks society received a shock Dalrymple was thrown over and it transpired that the brilliant young widow was betrothed to the count Dalrymple calm and self contained had nothing to say on the subject of why he'd received such shabby treatment and nobody ventured to interrogate him some people believed in the count others thought that there was a ring of falsity about him for all his frame was so elegantly slender and supple for all his moustache was so glossily dark and his eyes so richly lustrous Dalrymple meanwhile hit his wound met the count constantly at the club though no longer even exchanging bows with him and worked at his revenge in secret as a beaver works at the building of his winter ranch he succeeded too in getting superb materials for that revenge they surprised even himself when a few relatives and friends in Paris meld him appalling documentary evidence as to what sort of a character this count really was there is no doubt that he now held in his hand a thunderbolt and is only to hurt it when he pleased he did not tell a single soul what he had learned the thought of just how he should act haunted him for several days one evening he went home from the club a little earlier than usual and tossed restlessly for a good while after going to bed when sleep came it found him still irresolute as to what course he should take it seemed to him that he had now a succession of dreams but he could recall none of them on waking and he awoke in a peculiar way there was yet no hint of dawn in the room and only the light from his gas turned down to a very dim star he was sitting bolt up right in bed and feverish fatigue sensations oppressed him what have I been dreaming he asked himself again and again but as only a confused jumble of memories answered him he sank back upon the pillows and was soon buried in slumber it was past nine o'clock in the morning when he next to woke he felt decidedly better both the feverishness and the fatigue had left him he went to the club and breakfasted there it was almost empty of members as small clubs are up to be at that hour of the morning but in the hall he met his old friend Langworth and bowed to him Langworth, who was rather near sight he gave a sudden start in the stair how odd thought Dalrymple as he passed on into the reading room a hopeless nothing unexpected about my personal appearance just at the doorway of the room he met another old friend Summersun a man extremely strict about all matters of propriety Summersun saw him and then plainly made believe that he had not seen as they moved by one another Dalrymple said lightly good morning old chap, how's your gout Summersun who was very tall and excessively dignified gave a comic squirm then his eyelids fluttered and with the tips of his lips he murmured better as he glided along poo said Dalrymple to himself getting touchy I suppose in his old age how longevity disagrees with some of us mortals he nearly always took a bottle of seltzer before breakfast and this morning old Andrew a servant who had been in the club many years pulled it out for him I hope you're all right again this morning Saar said Andrew with his Celtic accent and an affable half whisper all right Andrew was the reply why you must be thinking of someone else I haven't been ill my health has been excellent for a long time past yes sir said Andrew lowering his eyes and respectfully retiring that last yes Saar had a dubious note about its delivery that almost made Dalrymple call the faithful old fellow back and further question him all right again as if he'd ever been all wrong oh well poor Andrew was aging others had remarked that fact months ago a different servant came to announce breakfast there were only about five men in the dining room as Dalrymple entered it all of them gazed at him in an unusual way or had late events led him to think they did so at the table nearest him sat Everdell one of the jolliest men in the club a person whose face was nearly always raised in smiles good morning said Dalrymple as he called Everdell's eye good morning the tones were replete with mild consternation and the look that went with them was smile less to the degree of actual gloom then Everdell who had just finished his breakfast rose and drew near to Dalrymple followed my word he said I'm delighted to see you all right again so soon all right again so soon was the reply what in mercy's name do you mean oh my dear old fellow began Everdell fumbling with his watch chain it was pretty bad you know yesterday pretty bad yesterday I saw you in the morning and for an hour or so in the afternoon perhaps no one would have noticed if you hadn't stayed here all day and poured those confidences into people's ears about the pomero you didn't appear to have drank a drop at the club there's the funny part of it you went out several times though and came back again all that you had to drink except some wine here at dinner you remember you must have got outside I wasn't here at ten o'clock when the pomero came in I'm glad I wasn't you must have been dreadful if Somerson and Joyce hadn't rushed in between you and the Count heaven knows what would have happened as it is at this point Dalrymple broke in with cold harshness I always dislike practical jokes and I've known for a number of years that you're given to them you've never attempted to make me your butt before however and you'll have the kindness to discontinue any such proceeding now Everdale drew back for a moment frown shrugged his shoulders and then muttering oh if you're going to put it in that way throw quickly out of the dining room Dalrymple scarcely ate a morsel of breakfast after he had gulped down some hot coffee and prepared for the reading room as he re-entered it a waiter handed in several letters one which he opened first was marked immediate and had been sent him from his own house by an intelligent and devoted woman servant there who had been for a long period in his employ this letter made poor Dalrymple's head swim as he read it written and signed by Mr Somerson himself as Chairman of the House Committee of the Club to appear that same evening before a meeting of the Governor's an answer to a charge of disorderly conduct on the previous night then it went on to state that he Dalrymple had been seen throughout the previous day at the club in a state of evident intoxication and had finally between the hours of 10 and 11 p.m accosted and grossly insulted account de pommarule in the main drawing room of the Grammarcy disorderly conduct evident intoxication grossly insulted account de pommarule these words were trembling on Dalrymple's lips as he presently approached Somerson himself the very gentleman who had signed the letter and who stood in the hall arrayed for the street what? what does it all mean gasped Dalrymple I never was intoxicated in my life and in front Somerson you ought to know that I played ukra last night up in the card room from 9 o'clock till 12 with Ogden and Folsom and yourself if there's any practical joke being got up against me for God's sake wait a minute please said Somerson he went back into the coat room disarrayed himself of his street wraps and finally joined Dalrymple his first words low and grave ran thus can it be possible you don't recollect that our game of Ukra was played the night before last and not last night then he went with Dalrymple into a corner of the reading room and they talked together for a good while Dalrymple went back to his home that day in a mental whirl it still wanted a number of hours before the governing committee would meet he had lost a day out of his life there could be no doubt of that if he had moved about the club at all yesterday with a drunken manner reviling Depomeroy to everybody who would lend him an ear if he had afterwards met Depomeroy in the club and directed towards him in loud and furious tones a perfect torrent of accusation he himself was completely blankly ignorant for a good while he sat quite still and thought then he summoned Anne the elderly and very trustworthy Anne who had been his dear mother's maid and was now his housekeeper he questioned Anne and after dismissing her he pondered her answers three times yesterday she had seen him and regarding his appearance Anne had her distinct opinions suddenly a light flashed upon Darumpul while he sat alone and brooded he sprang up and a cry half of awe half of gladness left his lips the waffling problem had been solved that evening he presented himself before the governing committee all assembled was sorry for him of course punishment must be dealt but for an old and popular member like Darumpul it must not be exploited it must not be expulsion the general feeling of the club had indeed already been gauged and it was in favour of suspension for six months or a year at the farthest Darumpul however was determined that he should be visited with no punishment at all and he meant to state why the judges as he faced them all looked politely grim the president after a few swabs preliminaries asked Darumpul if he had anything to say concerning the charges preferred against him Darumpul then proceeded to speak with a clear voice and composed demeanour his first sentences electrified his hearers I have no possible recollection of yesterday he began and it is precisely as much of a lost day to me as though I had lain chloroform for twenty four hours on wednesday night I returned home from this club and went to rest I never really woke until Friday possibly a little while after midnight and then within my own bed on thursday morning I must have risen in a state of somnibalism hypnotism mental aberration whatever you please and not come to myself until thursday had passed and I had once more retired of what yesterday occurred I therefore claimed to have been an irresponsible agent I had become so through no fault of my own I am completely innocent of the misdemeanours charged against me and I now solemnly swear this on my word of honour as a gentleman here Darumpul paused the members of the committee interchanged glances amid profound silence on some faces doubt could be read but on others it's various opposite the intense stillness had become painful when Darumpul spoke again I had hoped that I should escape throughout my own lifetime all visitations of this distressing kind my grandfather and two of my uncles not only walked in their sleep to an alarming degree but were each subject to strange conditions of mind in which acts were performed by them that they could not possibly remember afterward here the speaker paused soon continuing however in a lower and more reflective tone yes my family have had the strange failing that is nearly all of them except myself on the paternal side of but he said no more the tension was loosened and a great roar of laughter rose from the whole committee how often every man there had joked with him about that marvellous budget of stories which he infallibly began one way and one way only and when the familiar formula sounded forth it was all the funnier to those who had heard it because of the solemn judicial circumstances in which it again met their hearing the plaintiff was honourably acquitted Astrid de Pomerol as every word that Darumpul had said concerning his past life in France happened to be perfectly true the count never reappeared at the Gramercy his engagement with Mrs Carrington was soon after was broken off by the lady herself and for a good while it was rumoured that this lady had repentently made it optional with Darumpul whether he should once more become her accepted sweetheart but Darumpul remained a bachelor he is quite an old man now yet he may be found in the card room of the Gramercy nearly every evening he is very willing to tell you the story of his lost day if you asked him courteously for it and not in any strain of fun poking but he attempts no more voluntary recitals on the subject of his family's maladies or mishaps End of A Lost Day by Edgar Fawcett Recording by Peter Tomlinson Love and Friendship on Other Early Works by Jean Austin This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Rebecca Chad Horner Love and Friendship on Other Early Works by Jane Austin Leslie Castle Letter the first is from Miss Margaret Leslie to Miss Charlotte Luttrell Leslie Castle January 3rd 1792 My brother has just left us Matilda said he at parting You and Margaret will I am certain take all the care of my dear little one that she might have received from an indulgent and affectionate and amiable mother tears rolled down her cheeks as he spoke these words the remembrance of her who had so wantonly disgraced the maternal character and so openly violated the conjugal duties prevented his adding anything the child and after saluting Matilda and me hastily broke from us unseating himself in his chase pursued the road to Aberdeen never was there a better young man ah how little did he deserve the misfortunes he has experienced in the marriage state so could a husband too so bad a wife for you know my dear Charlotte that the worthless Luisa left him her child and reputation a few weeks ago in a company with timbers and dishonour never was there a sweeter face a finer form or less amiable heart than Luisa owned her child already possessed the personal charms of her unhappy mother may she inherit from her father all his mental ones Leslie is at present but 5 and 20 and has already given himself up to melancholy and despair what a difference between him and his father Sir George is 57 the flighty stripling the gay lad the springly youngster that his son was really about 5 years back and that he has affected to appear ever since my remembrance while our father is fluttering about the streets of London gay, dissipated and thoughtless at the age of 57 Matilda and I continue scheduled from Mankind in our old and mouldering castle which is situated at 2 miles from Perth on a bold projecting rock and commands an extensive view of the town and its delightful environs but though retired from almost all the world for we visit no one but the Malades, the Mackenzie's the Mephirsons, the McCartney's the McDonald's, the McKinnons the Malinans, the McKays the Macbess and the McDuff's we are neither dull nor unhappy but on the contrary there never were two more lively, more agreeable or more witty girls than we are. Not an R in the day hangs heavy on our hands we read, we work, we talk and when fatigued with these employments relieve our spirits either by a lively song a graceful dance or by some smart bon mot and witty remedy. We are handsome my dear Charlotte very handsome and the greatest of our perfection is that we are entirely insensible of them but why do I thus dwell on myself let me rather repeat the praise of our dear little niece and the innocent Louisa who is at present sweetly smiling in a gentle nap as she reposes on the sofa. The dear creature is just turned of two years old as handsome as though two and twenty as sensible as though two and thirty and as prudent as though two and forty. To convince you of this I must inform you that she has a very fine complexion pretty features that she already knows the two first letters in the alphabet and that she never tears her frocks. If I have not now convinced you of her beauty since imprudence I have nothing more to urge in support of my assertion and you will therefore have no way of deciding the affair but by coming to Leslie Castle and by a personal acquaintance with Louisa. Determine for yourself ah my dear friend how happy should I be to see you within these venerable walls it is now four years since my removal from school has separated me from you that two such tender hearts so closely linked together by the ties of sympathy and friendship should be so wildly removed from each other is vastly moving I live in Perthshire you and Sussex we might meet in London where my father disposed to carry me there and where your mother to be there at the same time we might meet at Bath at Tunbridge or anywhere else indeed could we but be at the same place together we have only to hope that such a period may arrive my father does not return to us till autumn my brother will leave Scotland in a few days he is impatient to travel mistaken youth he vainly flatters himself that change of air will hail the winds of a broken heart you will join with me and I am certain my dear Charlotte in prayers for the recovery of the unhappy Leslie's peace of mind which must ever be essential to that of your sincere friend M Leslie end of letter the first is from Miss Margaret Leslie to Miss Charlotte by Jane Austin this recording is in the public domain the middle toe of the right foot by Ambrose Beers this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Richard Steinberg the middle toe of the right foot it is well known that the old Manton House is haunted in all the rural district near about and even in the town of Marshall a mile away not one person of unbiased mind entertains a doubt of it in credulity it is confined to those opinionated persons who will be called cranks as soon as the useful word shall have penetrated the intellectual domain of the Marshall advance the evidence that the house is haunted is of two kinds the testimony of disinterested witnesses who have had ocular proof and that of the house itself the former may be disregarded and ruled out on any of the various grounds of destruction which may be urged against it by the ingenious but facts within the observation of all are material and controlling in the first place the Manton House has been unoccupied by morals for more than 10 years and with its outbuildings is slowly falling into decay a circumstance which in itself the judicious will hardly venture to ignore it stands a little way off the Marshall and Harrison Road in an opening which was once a farm and is still disfigured with strips of rotting fence and half covered with brambles overrunning a stony and sterile soil long unacquainted with the plow the house itself is intolerably good condition though badly weather stained and in dire need of attention from the glacier the smaller male population of the region having tested in the manner of its kind its disapproval of dwelling without dwellers it is two stories in height nearly square its front pierced by a single doorway flanked on each side by a window boarded up to the very top corresponding windows above not protected served to admit light and rain to the rooms of the upper floor grass and weeds grow pretty wrinkly all about reshade trees somewhat the worst for wind and leaning all in one direction seem to be making a concerted effort to run away in short as the Marshall town humorist explained in the columns of the advance the proposition that the manton house is battling haunted is the only logical conclusion from the premises the fact that in this dwelling Mr. Manton thought it expedient one night some ten years ago to rise and cut the throats of his wife and two small children removing it once to another part of the country has no doubt done its share in directing public attention to the fitness of the place for supernatural phenomena to this house one summer evening came four men in a wagon three of them promptly alighted and the one who had been driving hitched the team to the only remaining post of what had been a fence the fourth remain seated in the wagon come said one of his companions approaching him while the others moved away in the direction of the dwelling this is the place the man addressed did not move by God said harshly this is a trick and it looks to me as if you were in it perhaps I am the other said looking him straight in the face and speaking in a tone which had something of contempt in it you will remember however that the choice of place was with your own ascent left to the other side of course if you are afraid of spoo's I am afraid of nothing the man interrupted with another oath and sprang to the ground the two then joined the others at the door which one of them had already opened with some difficulty caused by rust of lock and hinge all entered inside it was dark but the man who had unlocked the door produced a candle and matches and made a light he then unlocked the door on the right as they stood in the passage this gave them entrance to a large square room that the candle but dimly lighted the floor had a thick carpeting of dust which partly muffled their footfalls cobwebs were in the angles of the walls and depended from the ceiling like strips making undulatory movements in the disturbed air the room had two windows adjoining sides but from neither could anything be seen except the rough inner surfaces of boards a few inches from the glass there was no fireplace no furniture, there was nothing beside the cobwebs and the dust the four men were the only objects there which were not part of the structure strange enough they looked in the yellow light of the candle the one who had so reluctantly alighted was especially spectacular he might have been called sensational he was of middle age, heavily built deep chested and broad shoulder looking at his figure one would have said that he had a giant's strength at his features that he would use it like a giant he was clean shaven, his hair rather closely cropped in gray his low forehead was seamed and over the nose these became vertical heavy black brows followed the same law saved from meeting only by an upward turn at what would otherwise have been the point of contact deeply suckin beneath these glowed in the obscured light a pair of eyes of uncertain color but obviously enough too small there was something forbidding in their expression which was not bettered by the cool mouth and wide jaw nose was well enough as noses go one does not expect much of noses all that was sinister in the man's face seemed accentuated by an unnatural power he appeared altogether bloodless the appearance of the other men was sufficiently commonplace they were such persons as one meets and forgets that he met all were younger than the man described between whom and the eldest of the others who stood apart there was apparently kindly feeling they avoided looking at each other gentlemen said the man holding the candle and keys I believe everything is right are you ready Mr. Rosser the man standing apart from the group bowed and smiled and you Mr. Grossmith the heavy man bowed and scowled you'll be pleased to remove your outer clothing their hats coats waist coats and neck wear were soon removed and thrown outside the door in the passage the man with the candle now nodded and the fourth man he who had urged Grossmith to leave the wagon produced from the pocket of his overcoat two long murderous looking bowie knives which he drew now from their leather scabbards they are exactly alike he said presenting one to each of the two principles for by this time the dullest observer would have understood the nature of this meeting it would be a duel to the death each combatant took a knife examined it critically near the candle and tested the strength of the blade and handle across his lifted knee their persons were then searched in turn each by the second of the other if it is agreeable to you Mr. Grossmith said the man holding the white you will place yourself in that corner he indicated the angle the room farthest from the door whether Grossmith retired his second parting from him with a grasp of the hand which had nothing of cordiality in it in the angle nearest the door Mr. Rosser stationed himself and after a whispered consultation his second left him joining the other near the door at that moment the candle was suddenly extinguished leaving all in profound darkness this may have been done by the draft from the open door whatever the cause the effect was startling gentlemen said a voice which sounded strangely unfamiliar in the altered condition affecting the relations of the senses gentlemen you will not move until you hear the closing of the outer door a sound of trampling ensued then the closing of the inner door and finally the outer one closed with a concussion which shook the entire building a few minutes afterward a belated farmers boy met a white wagon which was being driven furiously toward the town of Marshall he had declared that behind the two figures on the front seats stood a third with its hands upon the bowed shoulders of the others who appeared to struggle vainly to free themselves from its grasp this figure unlike the others was clad in white and had undoubtedly boarded the wagon as it passed the haunted house as the lad could boast a considerable former experience with the supernatural thereabouts his words had the weight justly due to the testimony expert the story in connection with the next day's events eventually appeared in the events with some slight literary embellishments and a concluding intimation that the gentlemen referred to would be allowed the use of the paper's columns for their version of the night's adventure but the privilege remained without a claimant the events that led up to this duel in the dark were simple enough one evening three young men of the town marshal were sitting in a quiet corner of the porch of the village hotel smoking and discussing such matters as three educated young men of a southern village would naturally find interesting their names were King, Sancher and Rosser at a little distance with an easy hearing but taking no part in the conversation sat a forth he was a stranger to the others they merely knew that on his arrival by the stagecoats that afternoon he had written in the hotel register the name Robert Grossmith he had not been observed to speak to anyone except the hotel clerk he seemed indeed singularly fond of his own company or as the personnel of the advance expressed it grossly addicted to evil associations but then it should be said injustice to the stranger that the personnel was himself of a two convivial disposition fairly to judge one differently gifted and had moreover experienced a slight rebuff in an effort at an interview I hate any kind of deformity in a woman said King whether natural or acquired I have a theory that any physical defect has its correlative mental and moral defect I infer then said Grosser greatly that a lady lacking the moral advantage of a nose would find the struggle to become Mrs. King an arduous enterprise of course you may put it that way was the reply but seriously I once threw over a most charming girl on learning quite accidentally that she had suffered amputation of a toe my conduct was brutal if you like but if I had married that girl I should have been miserable for life and should have made her so whereas said Sancher with a light by marrying a gentleman of more liberal view she escaped with a parted throat ah you know to whom I refer yes she married Manton but I don't know about his liberality I'm not sure but he cut her throat because he discovered that she lacking that excellent thing in a woman the middle toe of the right foot look at that chop said Rosser in a low voice his eyes fixed upon the stranger the chop was obviously listening to the conversation damn his impudence mother king what ought we to do that's an easy one Rosser replied rising sir he continued to dress in a stranger I think it would be better if you were to remove your chair to the other end of the veranda the presence of gentlemen is evidently an unfamiliar situation to you the man sprang to his feet and strode forward clenched hands his face white with rage all were now standing sancers stepped between the belligerents you're hasty and unjust he said to Rosser this gentleman has done nothing to deserve such language but Rosser would not withdraw a word by the custom of the country and the time there could be but one outcome to the coral I demand the satisfaction due to a gentleman said the stranger who had become more calm I have not an acquaintance in this region perhaps you sir bowing to sancher would be kind enough to represent me in this matter sancher accepted the trust somewhat reluctantly it must be confessed for the man's appearance and manner were not at all to his liking king who during the colloquy had hardly removed his eyes from the strangers face and had not spoken a word consented with a nod to act for rosser and the upshot of it was that the principles having retired a meeting was arranged for the next evening the nature of the arrangements has been already disclosed the dual with knives in a dark room was once a commoner feature of southwestern life then it is likely to be again how thin of a nearing of chivalry covered the essential brutality of the code under which such encounters were possible we shall see in the blaze of a mid-summer noon day the old manton house was hardly true to its traditions it was of the earth earthly the sunshine caressed it warmly and affectionately with evident disregard of its bad reputation the grass greening all the expanse in its front seem to grow not wrinkly but with a natural and joyous exuberance and the weeds blossomed full of charming lights and shadows and populace with pleasant voice birds the neglected shade trees no longer struggled to run away but bent reverently beneath their burden of sun and song even in the glassless upper windows was an expression of peace and contentment due to the light within over the stony fields the visible heat danced with a lively tremor incompatible with the gravity which is an attribute of the supernatural such was the aspect under which the place presented itself to Sheriff Adams and two other men who had come from Marshall to look at it one of these men was Mr. King the Sheriff's deputy the other whose name was Brewer was a brother of the late Mrs. Manton under a beneficent law of the state relating to property which had been for a certain period abandoned by an owner whose residents cannot be ascertained the Sheriff was legal custodian of the Manton farm and appurtences their unto belonging his present visit was in mere perfunctory compliance with some order of accord in which Mr. Brewer had an action to get possession of the property as heir to his deceased sister by a mere coincidence the visit was made on the day after the night the deputy king had unlocked his house for another and very different purpose his presence now was not of his own choosing he had been ordered to accompany his superior and at the moment could think of nothing more prudent than simulated alacrity in obedience to the command carelessly opening the front door which to surprise was not locked the Sheriff was amazed to see lying on the floor of the passage into which it opened a confused heap of men's apparel examination showed it to consist of two hats and the same number of coats, waist coats and scarves all in remarkably good state of preservation albeit somewhat defiled by the dust in which they lay Mr. Brewer was equally astonished but Mr. King's emotion is not on record with a new and lively interest in his own actions the Sheriff now unlatched and pushed open the door on the right and the three entered was apparently vacant no as their eyes became accustomed to the dimmer light something was visible in the farthest angle of the wall it was a human figure that of a man crouching close in the corner something in the attitude made the intruders halt when they had barely passed the threshold the figure more and more clearly defined itself the man was upon one knee his back in the angle of the wall his shoulders elevated to the level of his ears his hands before his face palms outward the fingers spread in crooked like claws the white face turned upward on the retracted neck had an expression of unutterable fright the mouth half open the eyes incredibly expanded he was stone dead yet with the exception of a bowing knife which had evidently fallen from his own hand but another object was in the room in thick dust that covered the floor worked some confused footprints near the door and along the wall through which it opened along one of the adjoining walls to pass the boarded up windows was the trail made by the man himself in reaching his corner instinctively and approaching the body the three men followed that trail the sheriff grasped one of the out phone arms reaching his iron and the application of a gentle force rocked the entire body without altering the relation of its parts brewer pale with excitement gazed intently into the distorted face god of mercy he suddenly cried it is manton you are right said king with an evident attempt at calmness I knew manton he then wore a full beard and this is he he might have added I recognized him when he challenged rosser I told rosser and sancher who he was before we played him this horrible trick when rosser left this dark room at our heels forgetting his outer clothing and the excitement and driving away with us in his shirt sleeves all through the discredible proceedings we knew who we were dealing with what he was but nothing of this did mr king say with his better light he was trying to penetrate the mystery of the man's death that he had not once moved from the corner where he had been stationed that his posture was that of neither attack nor defense that he had dropped his weapon that he had obviously perished of sheer horror of something that he saw these were circumstances which mr king disturbed intelligence groping in intellectual darkness for a clue to his maze of doubt his gaze directed mechanically downward in the way of one who ponders momentous matters felt upon something which there in the light of day and in the presence of living companions affected him with terror in the dust of years that lay thick upon the floor heading from the door by which they had entered straight across the room to within a yard of manton's crouching corpse were three parallel lines of footprints light but definite impressions of bare feet the outer ones those of small children the inner of a woman's from the point at which they ended they did not return they pointed all one way brewer who had observed them at the same moment was leaning forward in an attitude of rapt attention horribly pale look at that he cried both hands at the nearest print of the woman's right foot where she had apparently stopped and stood the middle toe is missing it was Gertrude Gertrude was the late mrs manton sister of mr brewer end of the middle toe of the right foot by ambrose beers wander tales from many lands but kathryn piled this is a liber fox recording all liber fox recordings are in the public domain if you have any information or to volunteer please visit liberbox.org recording by Chad Horner from Ballycler in county under northern Ireland situated in the north east of the island of Ireland wander tales from many lands by kathryn piled chapter 11 rabbits house a korean fairy tale once upon a time the king of the fishes fell ill and no one knew what was the matter with him all the doctors in the sea were called in one after another and not one of them could cure him once when the fishes were talking about it a turtle stuck its head out of a crack in a rock it is a pity said the turtle that no one has ever thought of asking my advice i could cure the king in a twinkling all he has to do is to swallow the eye of a live rabbit and he will become perfectly well again this the turtle said not because he knew anything at all about the matter but because he wished to appear wise before the fishes now it's so chance that one of the fishes that hurt him was the son of the king's counselor and he swam straight home and told his father what he had heard the turtle say the counselor told the king and the king he was feeling very ill that day made them bring the turtle to him immediately when the messengers told the turtle that the king wished to speak to him the turtle was very much frightened he drew his head and his tail into his shell and pretended that he was asleep but in the end he was obliged to go with the messengers they soon reached the palace and the turtle was taken immediately to where the king was he was lying on a bed of seaweed and looking very ill indeed and all his doctors were gathered round him the king turned his eyes toward the turtle and spoke in a weak voice tell me friend is it true that you said you could cure me yes it is true and that all i have to do is to swallow the eye of a live rabbit and i will be well again yes that was true too then go get a live rabbit and bring it here immediately but i may be well when the turtle heard these words he was in despair it did not seem at all likely that he could catch a rabbit and bring it down into the sea but he was so much afraid of the king that he did not care to explain this to him he said nothing but crawled away as soon as he could wishing he could find some crack where he could hide himself and never be found again suddenly he remembered he had once seen a rabbit fishing about the hill not far from the seashore and he determined to set out to find it he crawled out of the sea and started up the hill he climbed and he climbed and after a while he came to the top and there he sat down to rest presently along came the rabbit and it stopped to speak to him good day said the rabbit good day said the turtle and what are you doing so far away from the sea asked the rabbit oh i only came up here to look out and see what the green world was like now you're here oh it's not so bad but you ought to see the beautiful palaces and gardens we have down under the sea the turtle began telling the rabbit about them and he talked so long and said so many fine things about them that the rabbit began to wish to see them for himself would it be very hard for me to live down under the water? he asked oh no said the turtle it might be a little inconvenient at first but that would not last long if you like I will take you on my back to the bottom of the sea and then you can see whether it is not all just as grand and beautiful as I have been telling you well the rabbit could not resist his curiosity and he agreed to go with the turtle they went to the edge of the sea and then the rabbit got on the turtle's back and down they went through the water to the very bottom of the sea the rabbit did not like it at first but he soon grew used to it and when he saw all the fine palaces and gardens that were there he filled with wonder the turtle took him directly to the palace of the king there he bade the rabbit get down and wait a while and he promised that presently he would show him to the king of all this magnificence the rabbit was delighted unwillingly agreed to wait there while the turtle went to announce him but while the turtle was away the rabbit heard two fishes talking in the room next to where he was he was very inquisitive so he cocked his ears forward and listened to what they were saying talking about taking out his eyes and giving them to the king the rabbit did not know what to do nor how he was to escape from the dangerous position he was in presently the turtle came back and the chief counselor came with him and immediately the rabbit began to talk well said he, it all seems very fine here and I am glad I came but I wish now I have brought my own eyes with me so that I could see it better you see the eyes I have in my head now are only glass eyes I am so afraid of getting my own eyes hurt or dusty that I generally keep them in a safe place and wear these glass eyes instead but if I had only known how much there would be to look at I would certainly have brought my own eyes when the turtle and the counselor heard this they were very much disappointed they believed the rabbit was speaking the truth and that the eyes he had in his head at the time were only glass eyes I will take you back to the shore said the turtle and then you can go and get your real eyes back again but there are many more things for you to see here things more wonderful and beautiful than anything I have yet shown you well the rabbit was willing to do that so we got upon the turtles bag and the turtle swam up and up with him through the sea as soon as they reached the shore the rabbit leaped from the turtles bag and away he went up the hill as fast as he could scamper and he was glad enough to be out of that scrap I can tell you but the turtle waited and he waited and he waited but the rabbit never came back and the turtle was obliged to go home without him as for the king of the fishes if he ever got well it was not the eye of a live rabbit that cured him of that you may be sure and of chapter 11 Rabbit's Eyes, a Korean fairy tale by Catherine Pyle Sergeant Warren comes back from France by Fisher Ames Jr. this is a LibriVox recording while LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Sergeant Warren comes back from France immediately after voting the Reverend Jeremiah Sol stepped outside the town hall to fortify himself with fresh air for the coming meeting several others had done the same been a hard winter Mr. Sol politely remarked one of the loiterers about the door he was glad for the gusts of March a sealer about to venture forth upon an arctic flow and especially for the boys in the trenches said the minister that's a fact sir I didn't mean we ought to complain we had our fair share of coal and wood I guess the wood was green and the coal mostly slate and we had the money to pay for it the group of men stirred a little on easily honestly made I think you'll admit that sir said Arthur Watts a strapping fellow of 30 years who had been called in the first draft and rejected on a count of his poor teeth I believe so quite admitted Mr. Sol we're making good rope for the government and our allies and no one is better pleased over it than I I'm proud of the cordage plant yes since this dreadful war had to be has come honestly enough by its prosperity group felt that Mr. Sol had tactfully dodged the real issue and they were content to have it so just then the polls were closed and those who had brought lunchboxes proceeded to consume the contents others presented themselves at the anti room where George Bassett was dispensing his famous chowder and coffee together with pickles and bread and butter it frets the person to see us keeping our money instead of blowing it all out in charity remark Watts across a steaming mug of strong coffee he laughed indulgently his friends did not echo his amusement they looked if not exactly ill at ease at any rate somewhat sober the hall was packed when Joel Holmes a massive and imbeturbable person was chosen moderator for the tenth successive time warrant in one large hand and gavel in the other he inscrutively stared upon the expected voters for a waiting minute the meeting will please come to order he announced the gavel smote the desk resoundingly as usual the first person to be recognized was fiery little Mr. Abel Crabb who had a few withering remarks to make concerning the warrant as a whole he was greatly applauded as a conscientious objector to everything Abel was looked upon as an interesting feature of town meeting a number of articles were then discussed and disposed of without excitement until Henry Tory rose he was as much of an objector as Mr. Crabb but he dealt an irony rather than in blunt scorn with a grim smile he proceeded to ridicule the library directors when he had exposed them in their true colors he made an impassioned motion to have the appropriation they asked for in article six of the warrant the motion was enthusiastically seconded but on being put to vote Tory's was the only I the crowd enjoyed Tory as they enjoyed Abel Crabb but they had perfect faith in the library directors the town officers and the warrant early in the proceedings it was evident that article number ten was to furnish the event of the day it ran as follows that the sum of $25,000 be appropriated for the improvement and embellishment of Farragut Square set improvement to include the removal of the four old buildings now abutting upon it the erection of a flagpole and a suitable bandstand and the widening of the street on the bayside of the square when the article was reached no disposition was shown to dispose of it quickly Fenwell wished to hear the report of the committee and the opinions and impressions of each and every member thereon the plan had caught the popular fancy nearly every man there was ready to back it firmly even boastfully pompous Mr. Baxter the chairman of the committee he sketched the history of the courtage plant which had begun as an uninspiring rope walk he compared it to the ugly duckling that became a regal swan and the swan he said pursuing the simile had not flown out of their hands in spite of the great wings it had grown at this point the moderator's voice and gavel were called upon to quell a disturbance in the rear of the hall apparently occasioned by the entrance of some late arrivals when order was restored Mr. Baxter continuing the peon to the town's prosperity spoke of the uniquely local character of the courtage plant of the fact that virtually everyone from the president down to the office boy concerned with it was a native of Fenwell and besides a liberal salary everyone had a share in the profits nearly every penny of the stock was owned right in the town of Fenwell all of which was no news but everyone relished Baxter's glowing phrases just the same the speeches of the other committee men were in the same tenor Fenwell had made money out of its courtage was still making money it could afford to pat its own back and might well take the form of a renovated and beautified town square that would advertise its business smartness to all the holders as the last of the committee men sat down someone in the rear of the hall addressed the moderator Mr. queried that official unable to see the speaker clearly like the old hall recently destroyed by fire the new structure had made a concession to the fair and inquisitive sex in the shape of a deep rear balcony Warren, Miles Warren an excited cranny of heads followed and even Joel Holmes showed the human being beneath the armor of officialdom Miles Warren he ejaculated then his gavel mechanically reminded him of his duties and he recalled the meeting to order it took vigorous rapping to still the persistent murmurs and the eager turnings I'd like to say a few words about article 10 said the man under the low balcony well I guess you can boom the moderator he was preserving his self-control with difficulty his hands fidgeted and his circular face showed a deepening crimson but we can't hear what you say way back there or see you either he added please step a little farther forward if you will Mr. Warren the storm of welcoming applause for the son who had so unexpectedly returned to his native town after two years of extended service in the far-famed foreign legion suddenly fell to a shocked silence they saw now why Sergeant Warren had come home his father stood beside him Miles needed someone to guide him up the narrow aisle for he was blind Fenville had heard of the metal cross-pin to the fate at tunic and had shared the pride of John Warren and his wife Abigail but it had not been heard of the scarred face and sightless eyes Miles had gone forth to fight for democracy like a true night of old the Fenville weekly Gazette had said the townspeople had not smiled at the phrase for there had always been something gallant in Miles he had always had a fearless and honorable outlook upon life I'm not much used to them over there so it seems good to get home he said and on town meeting day I saw a father wanted to be here and I did too so we came right over from the depot sightless thrown back into the discard but there was the same firm mouth and the same upright carriage of the well-shaped head broken, not a bit of it everyone could see that the old spirit was there just as gallant as when he had set out for the battlefields of France this article number 10 continued the sergeant you don't know how strange it sounds because I've come straight home from over there you know I was going to say without seeing anything on the way he smiled and that's true too what I mean is I haven't had time to get adjusted to the change it wasn't till just now that I said to myself the wars thousands of miles off way across the ocean not that the ocean could stop fritz from getting at us mighty quick if he ever beats us over there you may depend on that someone has to make the things that are needed and get paid for them that's of course, but I haven't been seeing that side I've been seeing France and England and our own boys with their backs to the wall I've been seeing new graveyards grow bigger than big towns as big as cities in cities that were nothing but graveyards towns that were nothing but ash heaps rich lands churned up into terrible deserts and I've met men met them all the time who've been seeing the same and worse in Russia and Poland, Serbia and Romania the whole Christian world being battered and ripped to pieces that is the way you think about it over there what can you do to stop it how can you help the millions that have lost their fathers or mothers husbands or wives or children have no food or homes or country that is what you ask yourself day and night you can never give them back what they have lost, but if you had money you could keep some of them from dying of cold and hunger little children at least that is about all money means to you over there so when I came home to hear that Fenville has grown rich why I can't seem to sense it in that you want to fix up Farragut anywhere make it pretty buy the town a kind of decoration because it has been lucky enough and smart enough to make money out of the war it's like blood money to me like blood itself a drop for every penny Fenville had never tolerated criticism but the man in the faded uniform with a cross on his tunic and his head up and his poor blind scarred face exerted a strange influence over the audience even the least imagine if man had his vision on what that figure symbolized it was looking at him as much as hearing him speak why I seem to get a sight right over to France as clear as if I had been there explained Mr. Top and afterwards France made Farragut square look kind of small I'll say just one thing more Miles went on and you could have come up in that hall if any of our boys don't come back Lem Chapman and Frank Keeler and the others those that do will they think a pretty Farragut square is the best monument for the ones who died for us over there the sergeant turned and John Warren took hold of his arm to lead him back Mr. Chapman Lem's father was up like a flash hold on he shouted no it ain't by Jupiter the flash out came the hand clapping like the rattle of rifle fire more than one shrewd old eye was moist and few were the hearts that did not beat with a more generous quickness what can we do sergeant Miles asked Mr. Chapman you have told us what we shouldn't do and I for one thank you for we want to do the right thing every man of us here does tell us what it is let us dispose of article the first said Dr. Shepard the house approved and Mr. Chapman gave way the article was put in the form of a motion was voted upon and defeated as if it had never had a friend in the world make a motion Miles shouted a score of voices do you want to know what I should do? said the soldier there are places in France and Belgium that used to be towns some haven't even the sellers left the society has been formed to take hold of the work of building up those places after the war we could write to that society and get the name of a town that once was a little one one where perhaps her own boys had fought Fenville could put the money she meant to spend on herself into helping to make it a town again it would help don't you worry about that so Fenville could feel always long after our time that little French town was her comrade and it would be her bit Fenville's bit when he could make himself heard the Reverend Jeremiah soul made a motion the gist of which was that a committee be appointed to correspond with the society with the object of learning the name of some small devastated town in France or Belgium that would be a worthy recipient of twenty five thousand dollars Fenville's treasury the same to be expended toward rebuilding the town at the end of the war a dozen voices seconded the motion and on being put to a vote it was carried unanimously Mr. Crabb the conscientious objector was one of the first to rise on the aye vote the fiery little man had his streak of sentiment after all so had Henry Tory who said gruffly that he was the town's money spent for a really useful purpose for once three cheers for sergeant Warren then shouted Mr. Chapman and make them rousers he and John went out said a voice in the rear of the hall cheering from the steps crowd another the crowd filed out the two Warrens were walking down the road the sergeant had his father's arm but his head up and it was not he but the older man that had the air being led the reason the crowd fell silent finally someone said crisply Miles Warren always could see straight and I tell you he can see as straight as ever even if he is blind end of sergeant Warren comes back from France by Fisher Ames Junior the story of the Sibylene books and King Carquinius Superbus by Alice Galeas 35 to 180 from the attic night volume one this is a LibriVox recording our LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org in the ancient annals this story is related of the Sibylene books footnote the Sibylene books the Sibyles and the oracles called Sibylene present an almost inexhaustible subject for critical and learned investigation my object is the general information of the less informed English reader the Sibyles were women presumed to have the power of predicting future events of these there were many but the precise number is disputed their origin is derived from Persia but their talent was supposed to be derived from the influence of the constellation called Virgo in the natural world the verses collected and published under the name of the Sibylene oracles are universally allowed to be spurious but it is evident that the Romans in particular revered these predictions as sacred and on all important occasions consulted them 10 are as Galeas and some others affirm 15 eminent Romans were appointed to super intent and examined them the most celebrated of the Sibyles were the Eurythian the Delphic and the Cumian and the books above mentioned were preserved till the times of the civil wars between Silla and Marius and footnote an old woman who was later stranger went to Tarquin the Proud when King carrying with her nine books which she said were divine oracles she offered to sell them Tarquin inquired the price the old woman asked an immense and extravagant some the king supposing her to dope from age laughed at her she kindled the fire and burned three of the nine books and then asked the king to buy the remaining six at the same price on this Tarquin derided her still more and told her that doubtless she was mad the woman immediately burned three more books and at the same time modally asked him if he would purchase the three that were left at the same price Tarquin then assumed a more serious aspect and began to deliberate he perceived that this currency and firmness was not to be disregarded he purchased the last three books at the same price that was demanded for the whole but this woman having left Tarquin's presence was never afterwards to be found they recalled the Sibylene books and deposited in a sacred place when the immortal gods were publicly to be consulted the fifteen go to these historical end of the story of the Sibylene books and King Tarquinius Superbus by Alice Galeas