Genre Horror. Page - 3

All is still and sombre. At this hour the simple traffic of the thinly-peopled country is over, and nothing can be more solitary.From this jungle, nevertheless, through which the mists of evening are already creeping, she sees a gigantic man approaching her. In that poor and primitive country robbery is a crime unknown. She, therefore, has no fears for her pound of tea, and pint of gin, and sixteen shillings in silver which she is bringing home in her pocket. But there is something that would

me back," he said, tenderly. "You will be cold.""It is colder for my son," said the old woman, and wept afresh. The sound of her sobs died away on his ears. The bed was warm, and his eyes heavy with sleep. He dozed fitfully, and then slept until a sudden wild cry from his wife awoke him with a start. "The paw!" she cried wildly. "The monkey's paw!" He started up in alarm. "Where? Where is it? What's the matter?" She came stumbling across

home of the American Minister to the Court of St. James.BY OSCAR WILDE The Canterville Ghost BY OSCAR WILDE I When Mr. Hiram B. Otis, the American Minister, bought Canterville Chase, everyone told him he was doing a very foolish thing, as there was no doubt at all that the place was haunted. Indeed, Lord Canterville himself, who was a man of the most punctilious honor, had felt it his duty to mention the fact to Mr. Otis when they came to discuss terms. "We have not cared to live in the

currences were ever mentioned in hearing of the children. They would have been, no doubt, like most children, greatly terrified had they heard any thing of the matter, and known that their elders were unable to account for what was passing; and their fears would have made them wretched and troublesome.They used to play for some hours every day in the back garden--the house forming one end of this oblong inclosure, the stable and coach-house the other, and two parallel walls of considerable

irs. His footsteps crossed the hall, and there was a pause at the door; I drew a long, sick breath with difficulty, and saw my face white in a little mirror, and he came in and stood at the door. There was an unutterable horror shining in his eyes; he steadied himself by holding the back of a chair with one hand, his lower lip trembled like a horse's, and he gulped and stammered unintelligible sounds before he spoke."I have seen that man," he began in a dry whisper. "I have been

than anyone else, and we had done it by opening lights into his life. He had nothing to fear from us because he had nothing to fear from the truth, which alone at such a distance of time we could be interested in establishing. His early death had been the only dark spot in his life, unless the papers in Miss Bordereau's hands should perversely bring out others. There had been an impression about 1825 that he had "treated her badly," just as there had been an impression that he had

he parish sexton. Bob Martin was held much in awe bytruant boys who sauntered into the churchyard on Sundays, to read thetombstones, or play leap frog over them, or climb the ivy in search ofbats or sparrows' nests, or peep into the mysterious aperture under theeastern window, which opened a dim perspective of descending stepslosing themselves among profounder darkness, where lidless coffins gapedhorribly among tattered velvet, bones, and dust, which time andmortality had strewn there. Of such

hin gold chain with an object attached to it. He glanced at the object and then took off his spectacles to examine it more narrowly. 'What's the history of this?' he asked. 'Odd enough,' was the answer. 'You know the yew thicket in the shrubbery: well, a year or two back we were cleaning out the old well that used to be in the clearing here, and what do you suppose we found?''Is it possible that you found a body?' said the visitor, with an odd feeling of nervousness. 'We did that: but what's

rn sounded, and the mail-coach drew up at thedoor of the George and Dragon to set down a passenger and his luggage.Dick Turnbull rose and went out to the hall with careful bustle, andDoctor Torvey followed as far as the door, which commanded a view of it,and saw several trunks cased in canvas pitched into the hall, and bycareful Tom and a boy lifted one on top of the other, behind the cornerof the banister. It would have been below the dignity of his cloth to goout and read the labels on these,

heerful.The other little girl was prettier, but of a more stubborn type; more passionate, less organised, and infinitely more assertive. Black- haired, black-eyed, swarthy, large-mouthed, snub-nosed; the very type and essence of unrestrained, impulsive, emotional, sensual nature. A seeing eye would have noted inevitable danger for the early years of her womanhood. She seemed amazed by the self-abnegation implied by her companion's statement; after a pause she replied: 'I wouldn't! I'd rather be