 The bag by H. H. Monroe, Sarkie, 1870 to 1916. 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 Peter Tomlinson. The Major is coming in to tea, said Mrs. Hoopington to her niece. He's just gone round to the stables with his horse. Be as bright and lively as you can. The poor man's got a fit of the gloons. Major Pallaby was a victim of circumstances over which he had no control, and of his temper over which he had very little. He had taken on the mastership of the Peckstael Hounds in succession to a highly popular man who had fallen foul of his committee, and the Major found himself confronted with the overt hostility of at least half the hunt, while his lack of tact and amiability had done much to alienate the remainder. Hence subscriptions were beginning to fall off. Foxes grew provokingly scarcer, and wire intruded itself with increasing frequency. The Major could plead reasonable excuse for his fit of the gloons. Enranging herself as a partisan on the side of Major Pallaby, Mrs. Hoopington had been largely influenced by the fact that she had made up her mind to marry him at an early date. Against his notorious bad temper, she set his 3,000 a year and his prospective succession to a baronetacy, gave a casting vote in his favour. The Major's plans on the subject of matrimony were not at present in such an advanced stage as Mrs. Hoopington's, but he was beginning to find his way over to Hoopington Hall with a frequency that was already being commented on. He had a wretchedly thin field out again yesterday, said Mrs. Hoopington. Why you didn't bring one or two hunting men down with you, instead of that stupid Russian boy, I can't think. Vladimir isn't stupid, protested Herneys. He's one of the most amusing boys I ever met. Just compare him for a moment with some of your heavy hunting men. Anyhow, my dear Nora, he can't ride. Russians never can, but he shoots. Yes, and what does he shoot? Yesterday he brought home a woodpecker in his game bag. But he'd shot three thousandths and some rabbits as well. That's no excuse for including a woodpecker in his game bag. Foreigners go in for mixed bags more than we do. A grand duke pots a vulture, just as seriously as we should stalk a buster. Anyhow, I've explained to Vladimir that certain birds are beneath his dignity as a sportsman. And as he's only nineteen, of course, his dignity is a sure thing to appeal to. Mrs. Hoopington sniffed. Most people with whom Vladimir came in contact found his high spirit infectious, but his present hostess was guaranteed immune against infection of that sort. I hear him coming in now, she observed. I shall go and get ready for tea. We're going to have it here in the hall. Entertain the major if he comes in before I'm down, and above all, be bright. Nora was dependent on her aunt's good graces for many little things that made life worth living, and she was conscious of a feeling of discomforture because the Russian youth whom she had brought down as a welcome element of change in the country house routine was not making a good impression. That young gentleman, however, was supremely unconscious of any shortcomings and burst into the hall, tired and less sprucily groomed than usual, but distinctly radiant. His game bag looked comfortably full. Guess what I've shot, he demanded. Pheasants, wood-pigeons, rabbits, hazarded Nora. No, a large beast. I don't know what you call it in English. Brown with a darkish tail. Nora changed colour. Does it live in a tree and eat nuts? she asked, hoping that the use of the adjective large might be an exaggeration. Vladimir laughed. Oh, no! Not a bayelka. Does it swim and eat fish? asked Nora, with a fervent prayer in her heart that it might turn out to be an otter. No, said Vladimir, busy with the struts of his game bag. It lives in the woods and eats rabbits and chickens. Nora sat down suddenly and hid her face in her hands. Merciful heaven, she wailed. He shot a fox. Vladimir looked up at her in consternation. In a torrent of agitated words she tried to explain the horror of the situation. The boy understood nothing but was thoroughly alarmed. Hide it, hide it, said Nora frantically, pointing to the still unopened bag. My aunt and the major will be here in a moment. Throw it on the top of that chest. They won't see it there. Vladimir swung the bag with fair aim, but the strap caught in its flight on the outstanding point of an antler fixed in the wall. And the bag, with its terrible burden, remained suspended just above the alcove where tea would presently be laid. At that moment Mrs. Hoopington and the major entered the hall. The major is going to draw our cupboards tomorrow, announced the lady, with a certain heavy satisfaction. Mithers is confident that we will be able to show him some sport. He swears he's seen a fox in the nut-cops three times this week. I'm sure I hope so. I hope so, said the major moodily. I must break this sequence of blank days. One hears so often that a fox has settled down as a tenant for life in certain covers. And then when you go to turn him out, there isn't a trace of him. I'm certain a fox was shot or trapped in Lady Widdon's woods the very day before we drew them. Major, if anyone tried that game on in my woods, they'd get short shrift, said Mrs. Hoopington. Nora found her way mechanically to the tea-table and made her fingers frantically busy in rearranging the parsley round the sandwich-dish. On one side of her loomed the morose countenance of the major, on the other she was conscious of the scared, miserable eyes of Vladimir, and above it all hung that. She dared not raise her eyes above the level of the tea-table, and she almost expected to see a spot of accusing vulppine blood drip down and stain the whiteness of the cloth. Her aunt's manner signalled to her the repeated message to be bright for the present she was fully occupied in keeping her teeth from chattering. What did you shoot to-day? asked Mrs. Hoopington of the unusually silent Vladimir. Nothing, nothing worse speaking of, said the boy. Nora's heart, which had stood still for a space, made up for lost time with a most disturbing bound. I wish you'd find something that was worse speaking about, said the hostess. Everyone seems to have lost their tongues. When did Smithers last see that fox, said the Major? Yesterday morning, a fine dog-fox with a dark brush confided Mrs. Hoopington. Aha, we'll have a good gallop after that brush tomorrow, said the Major, with a transient gleam of good humour. And then the gloomy silence settled again round the tea-table, a silence broken only by despondent munchings and the occasional feverish rattle of a teaspoon in its saucer. A diversion was at last afforded by Mrs. Hoopington's fox terrier, which had jumped onto a vacant chair. It was better to survey the delicacies of the table and was now sniffing in an upward direction at something apparently more interesting than cold tea-cake. What is exciting him? asked his mistress, as the dog suddenly broke into short, angry barks with a running accompaniment of tremulous whines. Why, she continued, it's your game-bag, Vladimir, what have you got in it? By Gadd, said the Major, who was now standing up there as a pretty warm scent. And then a simultaneous idea flushed on himself and Mrs. Hoopington. Their faces flushed to distinct but harmonious tones of purple, and with one accusing voice they screamed, You shot the fox! Nora tried hastily to palliate Vladimir's misdeed in their eyes, but it is doubtful whether they heard her. The Major's fury clothed and reclothed itself in words as frantically as a woman up in town for one day shopping tries on a succession of garments. He reviled and railed at fate and the general scheme of things. He pitted himself with a strong, deep pity, too poignant for tears. He condemned everyone with whom he had ever come in contact to endless and abnormal punishments. In fact he conveyed the impression that if a destroying angel had been lent to him for a week it would have had very little time for private study. In the lulls if he's outcry could be heard the quarrelous monotone of Mrs. Hoopington and the sharp staccato barking of the fox terrier. Vladimir, who did not understand a tithe of what was being said, sat fondling a cigarette and repeating under his breath from time to time a vigorous English adjective which had long ago taken affectionately into his vocabulary. His mind strayed back to the youth in the old Russian folktale who shot an enchanted bird with dramatic results. Meanwhile the Major roaming round the hall like an imprisoned cyclone had caught sight of and joyfully pounced on the telephone apparatus and lost no time in ringing up the Hunt's secretary and announcing his resignation of the membership. A servant had by this time brought his horse round to the door and in a few seconds Mrs. Hoopington's shrill monotone had the field to itself. But after the Major's display her best efforts at vocal violence missed their full effect and it was as though one had come straight out from a Wagner opera into a rather tame thunderstorm. Realising perhaps that her tirades were something of an anti-climax Mrs. Hoopington broke suddenly into some rather unnecessary tears and marched out of the room leaving behind her a silence almost as terrible as the turmoil which had preceded it. "'What shall I do with that?' asked Vladimir at last. "'Bury it,' said Nora. "'Just plain burial?' said Vladimir, rather relieved. It almost expected that some of the local clergy would have insisted on being present or that the salute might have to be fired over the grave. And thus it came to pass that in the dusk of a November evening the Russian boy, murmuring a few of the prayers of his church for luck, gave hasty but decent burial to a large pole-cat under the lilac trees at Hoopington. "'End of the Bag' by Sarky Recording by Peter Tomlinson The blood-fewed of Toadwater a west country epic by Sarky H. H. Monroe 1870-1916 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 Peter Tomlinson The Cricks lived at Toadwater and in the same lonely upland spot fate had pitched the home of the Saundresses and for miles around these two dwellings there was never a neighbour or a chimney or even a burying-ground to bring a sense of cheerful communion of social intercourse. Nothing but fields and spinies and barns, lanes and wastelands. Such was Toadwater and even so Toadwater had its history. Thrust away in the benighted hinterland of a scattered market district it might have been supposed that these two detached items of the great human family would have leaned towards one another in a fellowship begotten of kindred circumstances and a common isolation from the outer world and perhaps it had been so once but the way of things had brought it otherwise. Indeed otherwise. Fate, which had linked the two families in such unavoidable association of habitat had ordained that the Crick household should nourish and maintain among its earthly possessions sundry head of domestic fowls while to the Saundresses was given a disposition towards the cultivation of garden crops herein lay the material ready to hand for the coming of feud and ill-blooded for the grudge between the man of herbs and the man of livestock is no new thing. You will find traces of it in the fourth chapter of Genesis and one sunny afternoon in late springtime the feud came came as such things mostly do come with seeming aimlessness and triviality one of the Crick hens in obedience to the nomadic instincts of her kind wearied off a legitimate scratching ground and flew over the low wall that divided the holdings of the neighbors and there on the yonder side with a hurried consciousness that a time and opportunities might be limited the misguided bird scratched and scraped and beaked and delved in the soft yielding bed that had been prepared for the solace and well-being of a colony of seedling onions little showers of earth mould and root fibres went spraying before the hen and behind her and every minute the area of her operations widened the onions suffered considerably Mrs. Saunders sauntering at this luckless moment down the garden path in order to fill her soul with reproaches at the iniquity of the weeds which grew faster than she or her good man cared to remove them stopped in mute discomforture before the presence of a more magnificent grievance and then in the hour of her calamity she turned instinctively to the great mother and gathered in her capacious hands large clods of the hard brown soil that lay at her feet with a terrible sincerity of purpose though with a contemptible inadequacy of aim she reigned her earth bolts at the mirror order and the bursting pellets called forth a flood of cackling protest a panic from the hastily departing fowl calmness under misfortune is not an attribute of either henfolk or womankind and while Mrs. Saunders declaimed over her onion bed such portions of the slang dictionary as are permitted by the non-conformist conscience to be said or sung the Vasco da gamma fowl was waking the echoes of toad water with crescendo bursts of throat music and called attention to her griefs Mrs. Crick had a long family and was therefore licensed in the eyes of her world to have a short temper and when some of her ubiquitous offspring had informed her with the authority of eyewitnesses that her neighbour had so far forgotten herself as to heave stones at her hen her best hen the best lair in the countryside her thoughts closed themselves in language to a Christian woman and so at least said Mrs. Saunders to whom most of the language was applied nor was she, on her part, surprised at Mrs. Crick's conduct in letting her hen stray into other body's gardens and then abusing of them seeing as how she remembered things against Mrs. Crick and the latter simultaneously had recollections of lurking episodes in the past of Susan Saunders that were nothing to her credit fond memory when all things fade we fly to thee and in the failing light of an April afternoon the two women confronted each other from their respective sides of the party wall recalling with shuddering breaths the blots and blemishes of their neighbour's family record there was that aunt of Mrs. Crick's who had died a pauper in Exito's workhouse everyone knew that Mrs. Saunders' uncle on her mother's side had drunk himself to death and then there was that Bristol cousin on Mrs. Crick's from the shrill triumph with which his name was dragged in his crime must have been pilfering from a cathedral at least but as both rememberances were speaking at once it was difficult to distinguish his infamy from the scandal which be clouded the memory of Mrs. Saunders' brother's wife's mother who may have been a regicide and was certainly not a nice person as Mrs. Crick painted her and then with an error of accumulating an irresistible conviction each belligerent informed the other that she was no lady after which they withdrew in a great silence feeling that nothing further remained to be said the chaffinces clinked in the apple trees and the bees droned round the berberous bushes and the warning sunlight slanted pleasantly across the garden plots but between the navelhood household there sprung up a barrier of hate permeating and permanent the male heads of the families were necessarily drawn into the quarrel and the children on either side were forbidden to have anything to do with the unhallowed offspring of the other party as they had to travel a good three miles along the same road to school every day this was awkward but such things have to be thus all communication between the households was sundered except the cats much as Mrs. Saunders might deplore it rumour persistently pointed to the Crick he-cat as the presumable father of sundry kittens of which the Saunders she-cat was indisputably the mother Mrs. Saunders drowned the kittens but the disgrace remained summer succeeded spring and winter summer but the feud outlasted the waning seasons once indeed it seemed as though the healing influences of religion might restore to toad water its erstwhile peace the hostile families found themselves side by side in the sole kindling atmosphere of a revival tea where hymns were blended with a beverage that came of tea leaves and hot water and took after the latter parent and where ghostly council was tempered by garnishings of solidly fashioned buns and here wrought up by the environment of festive piety Mrs. Saunders so far unbent as to remark guardedly to Mrs. Crick that the evening had been a fine one Mrs. Crick under the influence of her ninth cup of tea and her fourth hymn ventured on the hope that it might continue fine but a maldroit allusion on the part of the Saunders good man to the backwardness of garden crops brought the feud stalking forth from its corner with all its old business Mrs. Saunders joined heartily in the singing of the final hymn which told of peace and joy and archangels and golden glories but her thoughts were dwelling on the poor for aunt of Exeter Years have rolled away and some of the actors in this wayside drama have passed into the unknown other onions have arisen, have flourished, have gone their way and the offending hen has long since expiated her misdeeds and lain with thrust feet and a look of ineffable peace under the arched roof of Barnstable Market but the blood feud of Toadwater survives to this day End of The Blood Feud of Toadwater A West Country Epic by Sarkie Recording by Peter Tomlinson The Conversion of Aunt Sarah by Archibald Marshall 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 Colleen McMahon The Conversion of Aunt Sarah One When young Lord Otterburn vowed before the altar of Grace Church 114th Avenue, Chicago to endow Miss Sadie M. Cuts with all his worldly goods that fortunate young lady obtained a husband of attractive appearance agreeable manners and a sweet temper a coronet, a beautiful but dilapidated castle in Northumberland surrounded by an unproductive estate and a share in the family attentions of Aunt Sarah In exchange for these blessings she brought, as her contribution to the happiness of the married state a warm appreciation of her husband's good qualities a dowry which, when reckoned in dollars, touched seven figures a frank and fearless character and a total ignorance of the importance of Aunt Sarah in the domestic well-being of the noble house of Otterburn She was not left long in ignorance at this point She had only had time to refurnish the whole of Castle Gede to install electric light to rebuild the stables, adopting part of them to the requirements of a stud of motorcars to take the gardens in hand and to relet most of the farms when Aunt Sarah was upon the newly married couple with a proposal for a visit And who is Aunt Sarah anyway, inquired Lady Otterburn when her husband handed her that lady's letter over the breakfast table Aunt Sarah, replied Otterburn is the bane of the existence of all the members of my family who can afford to keep their heads above water Sounds kind of cheering, observed her ladyship How does she get her clutch in? She proposes herself for short visits and has never been known to leave any house where the cooking is decent and the bed's comfortable under a month She is my uncle Otterburn's widow and having been left exceedingly poor exercises the right of demanding bed and board from members of my family in rotation as often as it is convenient to her If she's poor, said Lady Otterburn it won't harm us to give her a shake down in a sandwich or two as often as she wants them I apprehend she'll make herself agreeable in return That's where you make a mistake replied Otterburn Aunt Sarah has never been known to make herself agreeable in all her life In fact, she prides herself upon doing the reverse She'll tell you before you have known her two minutes that she always says what she thinks and she won't be telling you a lie Two can play at that game said Lady Otterburn Most times I say what I think myself But you only think pleasant things replied her husband, my flower of the prairie Now, Chicago is not exactly a prairie but the young Countess of Otterburn was pretty and graceful enough to deserve the most high-flown compliments and appreciated them when they came from her husband She therefore graciously accepted his latest flight of imagination and told him to write to Aunt Sarah and invite her to come to Castle Gide and stay as long as she found it convenient Aunt Sarah came a week later with a considerable amount of luggage but no maid The motor omnibus was sent to the station to meet her in spite of her nephew's warnings She'll arrive as cross as can be, he said She hates motors of every description and I don't suppose has ever been in one in her life Then it's time she tried it said Lady Otterburn There isn't a horse in the place that could draw a buggy 14 miles to the depot and back and bring her here in time for dinner Well, you'll see, said Otterburn She'll tell us what she thinks of us when she gets here She did The powerful motor omnibus drew up before the door of Castle Gide at which Lord and Lady Otterburn were standing to receive their guest having completed the seven-mile journey from the station in about 5 and 20 minutes The driver in the footman beside him wore expressions of apprehensive discomfort and the latter jumped down off his seat to open the door at the back of the vehicle with some alacrity There emerged a tall and formidable-looking old lady with an aquiline nose and abundant, well-arranged gray hair She wore an imposing bonnet and a dress not of the latest fashion which rustled richly There was a cloud on her magnificent brow Her mouth was firmly closed and she showed no signs of agreeable feeling at arriving thus at her journey's end How do you do, Aunt Sarah? said Otterburn, hastening down the steps to greet her Very pleased to see you again Hope the old bus brought you along comfortably No, Edward, replied Aunt Sarah rigidly The old bus, as you term it, did not bring me along comfortably I had vowed never to trust myself to one of these detestable new inventions and I am surprised at your sending such a contrivance to meet me This, I suppose, is your wife How do you do, my lady? I shall probably be able to tell better how I like your appearance when I've recovered from the perilous journey to which I've been subjected I should like to be shown at once to my room I am much too upset by my late experience to think of joining you downstairs tonight I certainly, said Lady Otterburn, I'll take you upstairs and you shall have your supper just when and how you please, right here and now if you prefer it I want that you should make yourself at home in this house Aunt Sarah transfixed her with a haughty glare considering that this house was my home for five and thirty years, she said I think I can promise to do that Thank you, Lady Otterburn I will not detain you any longer This is the third best bachelor's room in my day I know my way about it well No doubt you have other more important guests for whom the better rooms are reserved I will wish you good night My, said the Countess of Otterburn on the other side of a firmly closed door she's at Peach Two The most consistently disagreeable people are not without their moments of relenting and Aunt Sarah came downstairs about noon of the following day in a far better humor than she had carried to her room on her arrival, Castle Jede In the first place she had discovered that the erstwhile bachelor rooms had been converted into a perfect little suite with the appointments of which even a luxury loving old lady determined to find fault with everything could hardly quarrel During her voluntary seclusion she had been made as comfortable and waited on as well as if she were a rich woman in her own house and the little dinner which had been served to her and the privacy of her own Bijoux salon was far superior to any meal that had ever been served to her before in Castle Jede even when she had been the mistress of it Morning tea therefore found out Sarah mollified a dainty breakfast served to put her almost into an attitude of peace and goodwill toward mankind and a glass of pale sherry and a dry biscuit after her toilet had been made and the morning papers read sent her downstairs with the definite intention of being civil to her nephew's wife whom she had come to Castle Jede prepared cordially to hate This frame of mind lasted for several hours Lady Otterburn devoted herself to the old lady's entertainment and to her husband's unconcealed astonishment roused more than once a grim chuckle of amusement as she rattled her clever transatlantic tongue across the luncheon table and Sarah pleased and Sarah laughing and Sarah allowing someone else to monopolize the conversation He had known her all his life but such a spectacle had hitherto been denied him My dear, you're a marvel He said to his American Countess when luncheon was over and Aunt Sarah had retired to her own apartments still in high good humor You bowled me over the first time we met That was nothing but Aunt Sarah I couldn't have believed it possible I wish I'd asked all my uncles and aunts and cousins to see it You don't know enough to run when you're in a hurry replied Lady Otterburn You'll find her a real beautiful woman if you all took her the right way Well, we shall see, said Otterburn You've had a grand success so far but the experience of yours teaches me that seasons of calm and Aunt Sarah's life are not lasting Much depends on the afternoon nap Alas, Aunt Sarah's afternoon nap was a troubled one It may have been the lobster salad of which she had eaten too largely It may have been the iced hot cup of which she had drunk too freely but she had no memory Whatever it was, she came down again what time the tea table was spread in the hall with her usual inclination to make herself disagreeable strongly in the ascendant and if possible, augmented by the reaction from her previous state of amiability The first audacious Sally made by her hostess which would have been received with tolerant amusement at the luncheon table only drew a scandalized glare from Aunt Sarah and the ominous words I must ask you to remember to find yourself if you please Lady Otterburn may have been surprised by this sudden change of atmosphere but she seemed entirely unconcerned and took no notice of her husband's surreptitious kick underneath the tea table which said as plain as speech I told you so She talked with gay wit but gave no opportunity for a further rebuke but Aunt Sarah's twisted temper was not to be softened by the most searching tact and her next contribution to the sociability of the occasion was the remark This tea is positively not fit to drink in my day withers would not have dared to keep such stuff in his shop He don't keep it now answered her hostess I have it bought in China and shipped over land to cost four dollars the pound I have no doubt it is expensive retorted Aunt Sarah although there's no occasion to poke your money down my throat it is the way it is made no servant can be trusted to make tea I always have two teapots and make it myself it is never fit to drink unless I do so I just love to have you make some for yourself said Lady Otterburn I'll ring the bell for two more teapots it's too bad you shouldn't have it as you like it Aunt Sarah who was secretly rather ashamed of having mistaken caravan-born tea for that sold by the village grocer suffered herself to be softened again and became almost amiable when her hostess insisted upon drinking from the fresh brew which was presently made and declared that it was a great improvement on the old I think it is better, admitted Aunt Sarah I may say that I have never yet met anyone who could make tea as I can you will excuse me for having commented on yours but as Edward knows I always say what I think Edward did know it to his cost but again he was astonished at the sight of Aunt Sarah charmed back to good humor when apparently in one of her most relentless moods and with further astonishment he reminded himself that his experience did not afford a precedent for her apologizing for any word of blame that might have fallen from her lips but he had no time to ponder on these things developments were proceeding you find it a good plan always to say what you think asked Lady Otterburn sweetly it is the only honest plan replied Aunt Sarah if everybody would do it instead of telling lies on all occasions great or small there would be a good deal less hypocrisy in the world than there is now well I guess you were right said Lady Otterburn well commence right away and follow your example and so will Edward now mind Edward don't you dare say a single word that you don't mean and just you tell your Aunt Sarah exactly what you think as long as she's with us and so will I and all the people who are coming this evening she'll be told to do the same what exclaimed Aunt Sarah three when Aunt Sarah came down into the great hall 20 minutes to nine that evening she found it full of young men and women and to whom she had kept waiting 10 minutes for their dinner she did not apologize for her late appearance that was not her custom she singled out a young man of the company and said how do you do Henry I am pleased to see you at Castle Jeet again you used to come here frequently in happier times they were not happier times for me Aunt Sarah replied the young man rather nervously my chief recollection of them is that I was generally sent to bed before dinner for getting into mischief said Aunt Sarah that is the way to treat mischievous boys and you don't bear malice I am afraid I do said the young man I was treated most unjustly by whom pray inquired Aunt Sarah beginning to bridle very occasionally by Uncle Otterburn said the young man invariably by you upon my word exclaimed Aunt Sarah that is a pretty way to talk he must say what he thinks you know said Lady Otterburn we are all going to play at that as long as we are together anybody who is convicted of an insincere speech is to pay half a crown to the hospital fund here is the box it contains a contribution from Edward who told Lady Griselda that she was not at all late when she came down five minutes ago Edward take Aunt Sarah into dinner she has kept us waiting for nearly a quarter of an hour have I got into a company of lunatics inquired Aunt Sarah as she took her nephew's arm no member of the party had reached middle age most of the men were contemporaries of Otterburn's the years of whose pilgrimage were 30 some of them were married and had their wives with them but the majority were unattached and they were several girls some English and some American Otterburn's grouse moors were the ostensible excuse for their finding themselves collected at Castle Jied but they were so well mixed that they would probably have succeeded in enjoying themselves even if there had been no shooting to occupy the days a regular hubbub of conversation around the dinner table on this first evening and loud peels of laughter rising above the din and clatter of 20 tongues all moving at once seemed to indicate that Lady Otterburn's game was adding to the gaiety of the occasion no said a demure young lady in answer to a request from her neighbor I will not play accompaniments for you after dinner it is quite true as you say that I read music extraordinarily well I've always politely denied it before but now I do you're singing however so distasteful to me that I'm sorry I cannot oblige you I have got a good voice said her neighbor and I've studied under the best masters you've not profited by your studies replied the lady and your voice so far from being good is very thin and have no quality whatsoever I guess said a fair American surveying the company that we're a good looking crowd around this table and among all the women I have a conviction that I go up for the beauty prize I have had to hug that conviction in secret for a very long time and now it's out thus and thus was the house of truth built up stone by stone and Aunt Sarah's position was pitiable hitherto she had made her mark in whatever society she found herself by sheer insistence on her right to be frankly and critically disagreeable on any ordinary occasion she would have had the whole table full of young people prostrate under the terror of her biting tongue and not a wit which she cared for consequent unpopularity so long as she had made herself acknowledged as the dominating spirit of the assembly now she was met and foiled by the dexterous use of the very weapons which she had wielded so long and so unmercifully and no arrogant speech could she make but its sting was removed by equally outspoken reply thus to a right hand neighbor a young man with smooth black hair and a preternaturally solemn face I don't know who you are but by your long lip I should judge you to be a Mortimer my name and appearance are both undoubtedly Mortimer he replied gravely my character I'm happy to say is not perhaps you do not know said Aunt Sarah that I am a Mortimer I'm perfectly aware of it was the answer it would cost me half a crown to congratulate you on the fact and may I ask what faults you have to find with the family whose name you have the honor of bearing they are insufferably cantankerous and domineering not all of them interrupted Otterburn anxious above all desire for unsullied truth to avert the impending storm which was gathering around him you must not take his criticisms as personal on Sarah pass the box this way said the solemn young man Otterburn will contribute another half crown before dinner was halfway through Aunt Sarah was in as black a rage as had ever darkened even her Olympian brow by the time the ladies left the room she suffered herself of as many insulting speeches as it usually took her a day to achieve and her average output was no small one but it was all to no purpose her most ambitious efforts instead of striking a chill of terror to the hearts of her listeners were warmly applauded with an air of utmost politeness and from every quarter she received as good as she gave it took her some time to realize that she was affording considerable amusement to her nephew's guests but when she did arrive to her knowledge she could hardly command herself sufficiently to leave the room without doing bodily hurt to someone I will not stand this insolent behavior any longer she said to Lady Otterburn when the door of the dining room had been closed behind them how dare you treat me in this way white bless me Aunt Sarah exclaimed Lady Otterburn in well feigned surprise you said yourself that if everyone spoke the truth always as you pride yourself on doing it would be a real lovely thing you are all speaking the truth under a penalty and you are speaking it so well that you haven't been fined once is the nearest possible orthographic rendering of the exclamation of contempt and disgust that forced itself from Aunt Sarah's lips I have had enough of this insensitive folly she continued I shall go straight to my room and if I do not receive more respectful treatment in this house where I so long reigned as an undisputed mistress I shall leave it tomorrow do you understand me I understand you very well said Lady Otterburn and I will ask you to try to understand me the respect which you demand as mistress of this house is now due to me and I look to receive it from my guests if you discover that it is not within your power to grant it I shall not pressure you to prolong your visit and Sarah again gave van to the exclamation indicated above and sailed up the broad staircase to her own apartments with anger and disgust marked on every lining curve of her figure Aunt Sarah had never been so angry before in her life she was an extraordinarily disagreeable old woman disagreeable in a masterly cold-blooded incisive way partly because disagreeable speech was a genuine expression of her nature partly because she discovered in the course of years that she gained more by being disagreeable which came easy to her than by being pleasant which did not one of the weapons of her armory was the feigning of anger and few could stand upright before her wrath but for this very reason she had seldom been opposed in such a way as to make her really angry and now that this had happened to her she was almost beside herself with rage when she reached the cozy little sitting room which had been devoted to her special use having closed the door with a bang which re-echoed along the corridors she found herself surrounded by just that atmosphere of personal comfort in which her cyber-ritic old soul delighted a cheerful fire burned in the grate before it was drawn up the easiest of easy chairs at the side of the chair stood a table upon which there was a tray containing those refreshments solid and liquid with which Aunt Sarah loved best to fortify herself for the hours of darkness a collection of papers and magazines and half a dozen new books the gay chintz curtains were closed drawn and the electric lights behind their rosy shades threw just the right amount of light upon this pleasant interior Aunt Sarah had often before left a company of people in displeasure and retired to her own apartment with a bang of the door behind her but once shut in by herself the expression of her face had usually changed and with a grim chuckle at her own astuteness and the remembrance of her effective departure she had settled herself down with a mind wiped clean of emotion to the enjoyment of her own society Aunt Sarah took no delight in her own society nor did her angry old face change as she closed the door on the cozy warmth of her room it is true that she sat down in the easy chair in front of the fire women do not pace the room in their rage as is the custom with men all the same a consuming rage held her it had in it a tinge of helplessness and it shook her wiry old frame like an egg we Aunt Sarah was beaten and she had the sense to recognize it she felt rather alarmed at her state of mind helpless anger is not a soothing emotion and Aunt Sarah in spite of her well nourished vigor was an old woman it was very uncomfortable to be so angry and it was still more uncomfortable to realize that her power of keeping her own personality in the ascendant had been rested from her by a chit of a low born foreigner as she expressed it to herself when her anger had tired her sufficiently the feeling of helplessness increased and sorely against her will Aunt Sarah began to pity herself she fought against this feeling of self pity for some time she was made of sterner stuff than those who cherish it as a mild luxury but it overpowered her at last she suddenly saw herself old and for all her many relations and acquaintances friendless worse than friendless feared and disliked she was also for the time being homeless she had let her little box of a house in London for the winner and had intended to stay at Castle Geed for at least a month if she carried out her threat of leaving the next morning she had nowhere to go to and she was accustomed to run things so close that she actually had not the money to take her to someplace suitable to her exalted station and to keep herself there for four weeks then she suddenly realized then in the depths of her queer twisted heart she was fond of her nephew also that her nephew's American bride had brought her both deference and entertainment as long as she had treated her with ordinary courtesy she also discovered that she had a sentiment for Castle Geed which had been her own home for 35 years that was not wholly dependent upon its capabilities of affording her the degree of luxurious living which she most appreciated at this point something happened which had not happened for fully half a century two large tears trickled down on Sarah's face she knew herself for a lonely able old woman very very poor when Otterburn came out of the dining room with the rest of the men he drew his wife a little aside and said to her look here old lady I don't think we can carry this on I am afraid Aunt Sarah will have a fit if we beat her much more her eyes rolled most unpleasantly at dinner where is she by the by she's gone upstairs looking mighty ugly replied her ladyship she's going to express her baggage home tomorrow oh she mustn't do that Otterburn she's always gone on like that and her bark is much worse than her bite you go and calm her down and we'll stop this game we've won said Lady Otterburn but I don't feel very spry over the victory she is an old lady and I guess we'll just have to let her play by herself as long as she camps here I'll go up to her right now so Lady Otterburn entered Aunt Sarah's room just in time to catch her drying the two tears of foreset and a few more that had followed them a wave of compunction passed over her she felt that she and her husband and their guests had all behaved with the most unmanorly brutality dear Aunt Sarah she said, I hate that you should be all alone up here while we are enjoying ourselves downstairs once you come down and hear Mrs. Van Hooten sing they call her the Nightingale of Cincinnati in the States now if Lady Otterburn had followed the impulse that came to her to kneel by the side of the old woman in mixed tears she would almost certainly have been repulsed and would have found Aunt Sarah once more encased in a full suit of prickles for however much in a moment of weakness that redoubtable old lady may have pityed herself she certainly would have permitted no one else to pity her but Lady Otterburn was a young woman of considerable tact as well as generosity of feeling and her method of approach proved to be the best she could have chosen not tonight, replied Aunt Sarah I confess to being slightly upset at what has occurred and I do not feel equal to mixing with your guests at present I guess we must have offended you with our little game said Lady Otterburn but we didn't mean any harm and we've left off playing it now it has served its purpose said Aunt Sarah slowly I've been thinking matters over since I came upstairs it is not easy for a woman of my age and character to confess herself in the wrong but as far as you are concerned my dear I really think that by showing mutual respect and consideration we may perhaps get on very well together the speech had not ended quite in the manner Aunt Sarah had intended when she began it but the habits of a lifetime are not changed in a moment and its underlying meaning was at any rate clear Aunt Sarah had come as near as she had ever done in her life to an unreserved apology for her behavior Lady Otterburn was prepared to meet her a good deal more than half way of course you feel seeing me here in your place she said I don't wonder but both Edward and I want you to look upon Castle Jid as your home just the same as before this was not strictly true so far as Edward was concerned but it must be admitted to have been generous and I'm new to this country and to a position to which you were born there are so many ways in which you could help Aunt Sarah my dear said the old woman any help I can give you shall have but I think you are quite capable of holding your own anywhere and of adorning any position so the Treaty of Peace was concluded and the Countess and the Dowager Countess of Otterburn spent a pleasant hour together talking amicably of many things when Aunt Sarah came downstairs the next morning she found everybody very anxious to please her the general attitude of the party was that of people who had committed a breach of courtesy and were ashamed of themselves probably this attitude drove compunction into Aunt Sarah's soul more completely than any other could have done she met advances with amiability and exercised her fearless tongue and her undoubtedly sharp intellect to the general amusement rather than to the general terrifying of the company by the time that the house party broke up she had discovered possibly to her amazement that ascendancy could be maintained as completely and far more pleasantly by force of character combined with wit and good humor than by force of character supported by aggressive arrogance alone thus fortified by experience of its efficacy Aunt Sarah's conversion was permanent this is not to say that from a most objectionable old woman she changed at a bound into an exceedingly attractive one the simile of the leopard and the Ethiopian still holds good but there was an all around improvement in her attitude towards the world at large which, whenever she found herself a castle jeed was an improvement which seemed to approach the miraculous a year after the events of this story when the two ladies at her burn had been worshiping together for an hour at a cradle shrine plentifully bedecked with lace the younger of them said to her husband Dear Aunt Sarah, she has a real loving heart I guess it was warped by her never having a baby of her own end of the conversion of Aunt Sarah by Archibald Marshall recording by Colleen McMahon The Devil in the Churchyard by A. E. Coppard This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Devil in the Churchyard Henry Turley was one of those awkward old chaps as he had more money than he knowed what to do with Shadrach we called him the silly man he had worked for it worked hard for it when he was old he stuck to his fortune and wouldn't spend a sixpence of it on his comforts what a silly man The Thatcher who was thus talking of Henry Turley long since dead and gone in the black cat of Starncum was himself perhaps 50 years old already there was a crank of age or of dampness or of mere custom in most of his limbs but he was bluff and gruff and hailing enough as a manner that could only offend a fool and fools never listened to him Shadrach that's what we called him was a good man with cattle a masterpiece he would strip a cow as clean as a tooth and you never know the cow have a bad quarter as Henry Turley ever milked and when he was buried he was buried with all that money in his coffin holding it in his hand I reckon he had plenty of relations and I remember it is 30 years ago I'd be speaking of but it was all down in black and white so as no one could touch it a lot of people in these parts had a right to some of it Jim Scarrett for one and Issy Hawker a bit Mrs. Kielsen poor woman ought to have had a bit and his own brother Mark Turley but he left it in the will as all his fortune was to be buried in the coffin along of him so it is and so it will be for whenever such people has a shilling to give away they goes and claps it on some fat pig's haunches the foolishness 60 pounds it was in a canister and he held it in his hand I don't believe a word of it said a mild-faced man sitting in the corner Henry Turley never did a deed like that what? grabbed the thatcher with unusual ferocity of course I'm not disputing what you're saying but he never did such a thing in his life then you cause me a liar certainly not oh no don't misunderstand me but Henry Turley never did any such thing I can't believe it of him huh I'd be telling you facts and facts be true one way or another now you want to call over me you want to know the rights of everything and the wrongs of nothing well said the mild-faced man pushing his pot towards the teller of tales I might believe it tomorrow but it's a bit of a twister now this minute ah that's alright then the thatcher was completely mollified well the worst part of the case was his brother Mark Shadrack served him shameful treated him like a dog good health ah like a dog Mark was older than him about 70 and he lived by himself in a little house out by the hanging pust not much of a cottage it weren't just wattle and door with fetch of straw but the lease was running out it was a life-hold affair and unless he bought this little house for £50 he'd got to go out of it well old Mark hadn't got no £50 he was ate up with rheumatics and only did just a little light labour in the woods they might as well have asked him for the king's crown to his master would he lend him the £50 no I can't do that his master says you can deduct it from my wages Mark says nor I can't do that neither says his master but there's your brother Henry he's worth a pair of money ask him so Mark asked Shadrack to lend him the £50 so he could buy this little house no says Henry I can't nor he wouldn't well old Mark says to him I don't wish you no harm Henry he says but I hope as how you'll die in a ditch good health and sure enough he did that was his own brother he was stricken with the sun and died in a ditch Henry did and when he was buried his fortune was buried with him in a little canister holding it in his hand I reckons and a lot of good that was to him he hadn't been buried a month and his daughters put their head together Levi Carter one was he was a sexton a man that was half a loony as I always thought oh yes he had got all his wits about him somewhere only they didn't have to get much of a quorum still he got them somewhere Tother was a chap by the name of Impey lived in Slack the shoemaker's house down by the old Traveller's garden he wasn't much of a matcher helped in the field work and did shepherding at odd times and these two chaps made up their mind to goon color Henry Tully's fortune out of his coffin one night and share it between their selves it was crime you know might have been prison for life but this Impey was a bad lot he'd the manners of a pith phew filthy and I expect he persuaded old Levi on to do it bad as body snatching course twas so they goes together one dark night long in November it was and where you know all of you as well as I that nobody can't ever see over our churchyard war by day let alone on a dark night you all knows that don't you asserted the Thatcher who appeared to lay some stress upon this point in his narrative there were moments of acquiescence by all except the mild-faced man and the Thatcher continued to about nine o'clock when they dug out the earth to want a very hard job for Henry was only just a little way down he was buried on top of his old woman and she was on top of her two daughters but when they got down to the coffin Impey didn't much care for that part of the job he felt a little bit sick so he gives the hammer and the screwdriver to Levi and he says Levi he says are you game to make a good job of this yes I'd be says old Levi well then Impey says you'll have my smock on now well I just creep off to old Wannaker's sheep and collars one of their fat lambs over by the Lottmans you're not gonna leave me here says Carter what be I going to do you go on and finish this here job Levi he says you get the money and put back all the earth and don't stir out of the yard before I come or I'll have your blood no says Carter you won't do that I'll do that Impey says you've got some smarty slams I can tell you fat as snails no says Carter I won't have no track with that take right you will says Impey and I'll get the sheep here's my smock I'll meet you here again in ten minutes I'll have that lamb if I ask to cut his blasted head off and he rushed away before Levi could stop him so Carter puts on the smock and finishes the job he got the money and put the earth back on poor Henry and tidied it up and then he went and sat in the church porch waiting for this Impey to come back just as he did that an oldish man passed by the gate he was coming to this very place for a drop of drink and he sees old Levi's white figure sitting in the church porch and it frightened him so much he took to his heels and tore along to this very room we'd be sitting in now only 30 years ago what in the name of God's a matter are you they says to him for he's a face like chalk in his lips was blue as a wet stone have you seen a ghost yes he says I've seen a ghost just now then a ghost they said a ghost you haven't seen a ghost I've seen a ghost where have you seen a ghost so he told them he's seen a ghost sitting up in the church porch I shan't have that says old Mark Turley for he was sitting here I tell you to us then says the man can't be nothing worse than I be myself Mark says I say it is the man said and he was vexed to go and see for yourself I would go to and all said old Mark if only I could walk it but my rheumatics be that scrumatious look ghost an immortal man has ever seen a ghost I'd go my lad if my lads if my legs had stand it and there was a lot of talk like that until a young sailor spoke up I wish he was his name was Pat Crow he was on furlough I don't know what he was so doing in this part of the world but there he was and he says to Mark if you be game enough I be and I carry you up to the church yard on my back a great stropping fellow he was you will says Mark then I will he says well I be game for he says Mark and so they ups him on to the sailor's shoulders like a sack of corn and away they goos but not another one there was man enough to go with him they went slogging up to the church yard gate alright but when they got to staggering along between the gravestones Mark thought he could see as something white but the sailor couldn't see anything at all with that lump on his shoulders what's that there Mark whispers in Pat's ear and Pat Crow whispers back just for joking old Nick in his night shirt steady now Mark whispers go steady Pat is getting up and coming Pat only gives a bit of a chuckle and says ah that's him that's just like him then Levi called out from the porch soft like you got him then is he a fatten oh god cried the sailor it is the devil and he chucks poor Mark over his back at Levi's feet and runs for his mortal life he was the most frightened of the lot because he hadn't believed in anything at all but there it was and just as he gets to the gate he sees someone else coming along in the dark carrying as something on its shoulder it was impi with the sheep there was above Pat Crow it's the day of judgement come for certain and he went roaring the news up street like a madman and impi went off somewhere's too but I don't know where impi went well poor old Mark laid on the ground he were a game old cock but he could hardly speak he was stripped dazzled and Levi was frittened out of his life in the darkness and couldn't make anything out of nothing he just creeps along to Mark and he goes who be that? and old Mark looks up very timid for he thought his last hour was on him and he says be that you Satan dragly Levi heard that all in one unexpected voice he jumped quicker on my neighbour's flea he gave a yell bigger than a pat crow and he bolted too but as he went he dropped the little tin canister and old Mark picked it up and he shook the canister and then something began to dawn on him but he knowed how his brother's fortune had been buried I read it I read it he says that was Levi Carter the dirty thief I read it I read it he says and he put the tin can in his pocket and hopped off home as if he never knowed what rheumatics was at all and when he opened that canister there was a 60 golden sovereigns in that canister 60 golden sovereigns bad things will be worse before they're better says Mark but they never won't be any better than this and so he stuck to the money in the canister and that's how he bought his cottage after all took much of a house to swatle and daub with a fetch as straw but was what he fancied and there he ended his days like an old Christian man good health end of the devil in the churchyard by A. E. Coppard Gabriel Ernest by H. H. Monroe Sarky 1870 to 1916 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 Peter Tomlinson there is a wild beast in your woods said the artist Cunningham as he was being driven to the station it was the only remark he had made during the drive but as Van Shield had talked incessantly his companion silence had not been noticeable astray fox or two and some resident weasels nothing more formidable said Van Shield the artist said nothing what did you mean what did you mean about a wild beast said Van Shield later when they were on the platform nothing my imagination here is the train said Cunningham that afternoon Van Shield went for one of his frequent rambles through his woodland property he had a stuff bitten in his study and he knew the names of quite a number of wildflowers so his aunt had possibly some justification in describing him as a great naturalist at any rate he was a great walker it was his custom to take a mental note of everything he saw during his walks not so much for the purpose of assisting contemporary science as to provide topics for conversation afterwards when the blue bars began to show themselves in flower at the point of informing everyone of the fact the season of the year might have warmed his hearers of the likelihood of such an occurrence but at least they felt that he was being absolutely frank with them what Van Shield saw on this particular afternoon was however something far removed from his ordinary range of experience on a shelf of smooth stone overhanging a deep pool in the hollow of an oak copies a boy of about sixteen lay a sprawl drying his wet brown limbs luxuriously in the sun his wet hair parted by a recent dive lay close to his head and his light brown eyes sold light that there was an almost tigerish gleam in them were turned towards Van Shield with a certain lazy watchfulness it was an unexpected apparition and Van Shield found himself engaged in the novel process of thinking before he spoke where on earth could this wild looking boy hail from the middle's wife had lost a child some two months ago supposed to have been swept away by the mill race but that had been a mere baby what a half grown lad what are you doing there he demanded obviously sunning myself replied the boy where do you live here in these woods you can't live in the woods said Van Shield they are very nice woods said the boy with a touch of patronage in his voice but where do you sleep at night I don't sleep at night that's my busiest time Van Shield began to have an irritated feeling that he was grappling with a problem that was eluding him what do you feed on he asked flesh said the boy and he pronounced the word with slow relish as though he were tasting it flesh what flesh since it interests you rabbits wildfowl here's poultry lambs in their season children when I can get any they are usually too well locked in at night when I do most of my hunting it's quite two months since I tasted child flesh ignoring the chafing nature of the last remark Van Shield tried to draw the boy on the subject of possible poaching operations you're talking rather through your hack when you speak of feeding on hairs considering the nature of the boy's toilet the simile was hardly an apt one our hillside hairs aren't easily caught at night I hunt on fourth feet was the somewhat cryptic response I suppose you mean that you hunt with a dog has it in Van Shield the boy rolled slowly over on to his back and laughed a weird low laugh that was pleasantly like a chuckle and disagreeably like a snarl I don't fancy any dog would be very anxious for my company especially at night Van Shield began to feel that there was something positively uncanny about the strange-eyed strange-tongued youngster I can't have you staying in these woods he declared authoritatively I fancy you'd rather have me here than in your house said the boy the prospect of this wild nude animal in Van Shield's primally ordered house was certainly an alarming one if you don't go I shall have to make you said Van Shield the boy turned like a flash plunged into the pool and in a moment had flung his wet and glistening body halfway up the bank where Van Shield was standing in an otter the movement would have not been remarkable in a boy Van Shield found it sufficiently startling his foot slipped as he made an involuntary backward movement and he found himself almost prostrate on the slippery weed-grown bank with those tigerish yellow eyes not very far from his own almost instinctively he half raised his hand to his throat the boy laughed again a laugh in which the snarl had nearly driven out the chuckle and then with another of his astonishing lightning movements plunged out of view into a yielding tangle of weed and fern what an extraordinary wild animal said Van Shield as he picked himself up and then he recalled Cunningham's remark there is a wild beast in your woods walking slowly homeward Van Shield began to turn over in his mind various local occurrences which might be traceable to the existence of this astonishing young savage something had been thinning the game in the woods lately the forestry had been missing from the farms hairs were growing unaccountably scarcer and complaints had reached him of lambs being carried off bodily from the hills was it possible that this wild boy was really hunting the countryside in company with some clever poacher dogs he had spoken of hunting four-footed by night but then again he had hinted strangely at no dog caring to come near him especially at night it was certainly puzzling and then as Van Shield ran his mind over the various depredations that had been committed during the last month or two he came suddenly to a dead stop a like in his walk and his speculations the child missing from the mill two months ago the accepted theory was that it had tumbled into the mill race but the mother had always declared she had heard a shriek on the hillside of the house in the off-street direction from the water it was unthinkable, of course but he wished that the boy had not made that uncanny remark about child flesh eaten two months ago such dreadful things should not be said even in fun Van Shield contrary to his usual want did not feel disposed to be communicative about his discovery in the wood his position as a parish councillor and justice of the peace seemed somehow compromised by the fact that he was harboring a personality of such doubtful repute on his property there was even a possibility that a heavy bill of damages for raided lambs and poultry might be laid at his door at dinner that night he was quite unusually silent where's your voice gone to said his aunt one would think you had seen a wolf Van Shield who was not familiar with the old saying thought the remark rather foolish if he had seen a wolf on his property his tongue would have been extraordinarily busy with the subject at breakfast next morning Van Shield was conscious his feeling of uneasiness regarding yesterday's episode had not wholly disappeared and he resolved to go by train to the neighbouring cathedral town hunt up Cunningham and learn from him what he had really seen that had prompted the remark about a wild beast in the woods with this resolution taken his usual cheerfulness partially returned and he hummed a bright little melody as he sauntered to the morning room his customary cigarette as he entered the room the melody made way abruptly for a pious invocation gracefully a sprawl on the ottoman in an attitude of almost exaggerated repose was the boy of the woods he was drier than when Van Shield had last seen him but no other alteration was noticeable in his toilet how dare you come here asked Van Shield furiously you told me I was not to stay in the woods said the boy calmly but not to come here supposing my aunt should see you and with a view to minimising the catastrophe Van Shield hastily obscured as much of his unwelcome guest as possible under the fold of a morning post at that moment his aunt entered the room this is a poor boy who has lost his way and lost his memory he doesn't know who he is or where he comes from explain Van Shield desperately glancing apprehensively at the waste-face to see whether he was going to add inconvenient candour to his other savage propensities Miss Van Shield was enormously interested perhaps his underling in his marks he suggested he seems to have lost most of that too said Van Shield making frantic little grabs at the morning post to keep it in its place a naked homeless child appealed to Miss Van Shield as warmly as a stray kitten or derelict puppy would have done we must do all we can for him she decided and in a very short time a messenger dispatched to the rectory where a page boy was kept had returned with a suit of pantry clothes and the necessary accessories shoes, collar etc clothes clean and groomed the boy lost none of his uncanniness in Van Shield's eyes but his aunt found him sweet we must call him something till we know who he really is she said Gabriel Ernest I think those are nice suitable names Van Shield agreed but he privately doubted whether they were being grafted onto a nice beautiful child his misgivings were not diminished by the fact that his stade and elderly spaniel had bolted out of the house at the first incoming of the boy and now obstantly remain shivering and yapping at the farther end of the orchard while the canary usually as vocally industrious as Van Shield himself had put itself on an allowance of frightened cheaps however whenever he was resolved to consult Cunningham without loss of time as he drove off to the station his aunt was arranging that Gabriel Ernest should help her to entertain the infant members of her Sunday school class at tea that afternoon Cunningham was not at first disposed to be communicative my mother died of some brain trouble he explained so you will understand why I am dwelling on anything of an impossibly fantastic nature that I may see or think that I have seen but what did you see persisted Van Shield what I thought I saw was something so extraordinary that no really sane man could dignify it with the credit of having actually happened I was standing the last evening I was with you half hidden in the hedge growth by the orchard gate watching the dying glow of the sunset suddenly I became aware of a naked boy a bather from some neighbouring pool I took him to be who was standing out on the bare hillside also watching the sunset his pose was so suggestive of some wild fawn of pagan myth that I instantly wanted to engage him as a model and in another moment I think I should have hailed him but just then the sun dipped out of view and all the orange and pink slid out of the landscape leaving it cold and grey and at the same moment an outstanding thing happened the boy vanished too what? vanished away into nothing asked Van Shield excitedly no, that is the dreadful part of it answered the artist on the open hillside where the boy had been standing a second ago stood a large wolf blackish in colour with gleaming fangs and cruel yellow eyes you may think but Van Shield did not stop for anything as futile as thought already he was tearing at top speed towards the station he dismissed the idea of a telegram Gabriel Ernest is a werewolf was a hopelessly inadequate effort at conveying the situation and his aunt would think it was a code message to which he had admitted to give her the key his one hope was that he might reach home before sundown the cab which he chartered at the other end of the railway journey bore him with what seemed exasperatingly slowness along the country roads which were pink and mauve with the flush of the sinking sun his aunt was putting away some unfinished jams and cake when he arrived where is Gabriel Ernest he almost screamed he is taking the little tube child home said his aunt it was getting so late I thought it wasn't safe to let it go back alone what a lovely sunset isn't it but Van Shield although not oblivious to the glow of the western sky did not stay to discuss its beauties at a speed for which he was scarcely geared he raced along the narrow lane that led to the home with the tubes on one side ran the swift current of the mill stream on the other rose the stretch of bare hillside a dwindling rim of red sun showed still in the skyline and the next turning must bring him in view of the ill-assorted couple he was pursuing then the colour went suddenly out of things and a grey light settled itself with a quick shiver over the landscape Van Shield heard a shrill wail of fear and stopped running nothing was ever seen again of the tube child or Gabriel Ernest but the lattice discarded garments were found lying in the road so it was assumed that the child had fallen into the water and that the boy had stripped and jumped in in a vain endeavour to save it Van Shield and some workmen who were nearby at the time testified to having heard a child scream loudly just near the spot where the clothes were found Mrs. Toop who had eleven other children was decently resigned to her bereavement but Miss Van Shield sincerely mourned her lost foundling it was on her initiative that a memorial brass was put up in the parish church to Gabriel Ernest, an unknown boy who bravely sacrificed his life for another Van Shield gave way to his aunt in most things but he flatly refused to subscribe to the Gabriel Ernest memorial End of Gabriel Ernest by Sarky Recording by Peter Tomlinson The Generous Gambler by Charles Pierce Baudelaire Yesterday across the crowd of the Boulevard I found myself touched by a mysterious being I had always desired to know and who I recognized immediately I was in the crowd of the people who were there and who I called for and who I called for and who I called for and who I called for and who I called for and who I called for and who I called for recognized immediately, in spite of the fact that I had never seen him. He had, I imagined, in himself, relatively as to me, a similar desire, for he gave me in passing so significant a sign in his eyes that I hastened to obey him. I followed him alternately. I followed him attentively, and soon I descended behind him into a subterranean dwelling, astonishing to me as a vision, where shone a luxury of which none of the actual houses in Paris could give me an approximate example. It seemed to me singular that I had passed so often that prodigious retreat without having discovered the entrance. There reigned an exquisite and almost stifling atmosphere, which made one forget almost instantaneously all of the fastidious horrors of life. There I breathed a somber sensuality, like that of opium smokers when, set on the shores of an enchanted island, over which shone an eternal afternoon. They felt born in them to the soothing sounds of melodious cascades, the desire of never again seeing their households, their women, their children, and of never again being tossed on the decks of ships by storms. There were their strange faces of men and women, gifted with so fatal a beauty that I seemed to have seen them years ago, and in countries which I had failed to remember, and which inspired in me that curious sympathy, and that equally curious sense of fear, that I usually discover in unknown aspects. If I wanted to define in some fashion or other the singular expression of their eyes, I would say that never had I seen such magic radiance, more energetically expressing the horror of Inuit and of desire, of the immortal desire of feeling themselves alive. As for my host and myself, we were already, as we sat down, as perfect friends, as if we had always known each other. We drank immeasurably, of all sorts of extraordinary wines, and the thing not less bizarre, it seemed to me, after several hours, that I was no more intoxicated than he was. However, gambling, this superhuman pleasure, had cut, had various intervals, our copious libations, and I ought to say that I gained and lost my soul, as we were playing, with an heroical carelessness and light-heartedness. The soul is so invisible a thing, often useless, and sometimes so troublesome, that I did not experience, has to this loss, more than the kind of emotion I might have, had I lost my visiting card in the street. We spent hours in smoking cigars, whose incomparable savor and perfume gave to the soul the nostalgia of unknown delights and sights, and, intoxicated by all these spiced sauces, I dared, in an excess of familiarity which did not seem to displease him, to cry, as I lifted a glass filled to the brim with wine, to your immortal health, old he-goat! We talked of the universe, of its creation and of its future destruction, of the leading ideas of the century, that is to say, of progress and perfectability, and in general of all kinds of human infatuations. On this subject his highness was inexhaustible in his unrefutable jests, and he expressed himself with a splendor of diction, and with a magnificence in drullery, such as I have never found in any of the most famous conversationalists of our age. He explained to me the absurdity of different philosophies that had so far taken possession of men's brains, and deigned even to take me in confidence in regard to certain fundamental principles which I am not inclined to share with any one. He complained in no way of the evil reputation under which he lived, indeed all over the world, and he assured me that he himself was of all living beings the most interested in the destruction of superstition, and he avowed to me that he had been afraid, relatively as to his proper power, once only, and that was on the day when he had heard a preacher, more subtle than the rest of the human herd, cry in his pulpit. My dear brethren, do not ever forget when you hear the progress of lights praised that the loveliest trick of the devil is to persuade you that he does not exist. The memory of this famous orator brought us naturally on to the subject of academies, and my strange host declared to me that he didn't disdain, in many cases, to inspire the pens, the words, and the consciences of pedagogues, and that he almost always assisted in person, in spite of being invisible, at all the scientific meetings. Encouraged by so much kindness I asked him if he had any news of God, who has not his hours of impiety, especially as the old friend of the devil. He said to me with a shade of unconcerned unity, with a deeper shade of sadness. We salute each other when we meet, but for the rest he spoke in Hebrew. It is uncertain if his highness has ever given so long an audience to a simple mortal, and I feared to abuse it. Finally, as dark approach shivering, this famous personage, sung by so many poets, and served by so many philosophers who work for his glory's sake without being aware of it, said to me, I want you to remember me always, and to prove to you that I, of whom one man says so much evil, am often enough bon diable to make use of one of your vulgar locutions. So as to make up for the irremediable loss that you have made of your soul, I shall give you back the stake you ought to have gained, if your fate had been fortunate. That is to say, the possibility of solacing and of conquering during your whole life, this bizarre affliction of Inuit, which is the source of all your maladies and all your miseries. Never a desire shall be formed by you that I will not aid you to realize. You will reign over your vulgar equals. Money and gold and diamonds, fairy palaces, shall come to seek you, and shall ask you to accept them, without your having made the least effort to obtain them. You can change your abode as often as you like. You shall have in your power all sensualities without lassitude, in lands where the climate is always hot, and where women are as scented as the flowers. With this he rose up and said good-bye to me with a charming smile. If it had not been for the shame of humiliating myself before so immense an assembly, I might have voluntarily fallen at the feet of this generous gambler to thank him for his unheard of munificence. But little by little after I had left him an incurable defiance entered into me. I dared no longer believe in so prodigious a happiness, and as I went to bed, making over again my nightly prayers by means of all that remained in me in the matter of faith. I repeated in my slumber, My God, my Lord, my God, do not let the devil keep his word with me. THE GENERUS GAMBLER by Charles Pierre Baudelaire A Harbinger by Kate Schopen A Harbinger by Kate Schopen Bruno did very nice work in black and white, sometimes in green and yellow and red, but he never did anything quite so clever as during the summer he spent in the hill. The springtime freshness had stayed some way, and then there was the gentle Diantha, with hair the color of ripe wheat, who posed for him when he wanted. She was as beautiful as a flower, crisp with morning dew. Her violet eyes were baby eyes when he first came. When he went away he kissed her, and she turned red and white and trembled. As quick as thought the baby-look went out of her eyes, and another flashed into them. Bruno sighed a good deal over his work that winter. The women he painted were all like mountain flowers. The big city seemed too desolate for endurance often. He tried not to think of sweet-eyed Diantha, but there was nothing to keep him from remembering the hills, the horror of the summer breeze through the delicate leafed maples, the bird-notes that used to break clear and sharp into the stillness when he and Diantha were together on the wooded hillside. So when summer came again Bruno gathered his bags, his brushes and colors and things. He whistled soft, low tunes as he did so. He sang even when he was not lost in wondering if the sunlight would fall just as it did last June, a slant the green slope, and if Diantha would quiver red and white again when he called her his sweet-owned Diantha, as he meant to. Bruno had made his way through the tangle of underbrush, but before he came quite to the woods edge he halted, for there about the little church that gleamed white in the sun people were gathered, old and young. He thought Diantha might be among them and strained his eyes to see if she were, but she was not. He did see her, though, when the doors of the rustic temple swung open, like a white robed lily now. There was a man beside her. It mattered not who, enough that it was one who had gathered this wildflower for his own while Bruno was dreaming. Foolish Bruno to have been only love's harbinger after all. He turned away. With hurried strides he descended the hill again, to wait by the big water-tank for the train to come along. The End of A Harbinger by Kate Chilpin