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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1993.txt b/1993.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fe0a40a --- /dev/null +++ b/1993.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1648 @@ +Project Gutenberg Etext of Told After Supper, by Jerome K. Jerome +#15 in our series by Jerome K. Jerome + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. 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Jerome + + + + +Contents: + +Introductory +How the Stories came to be told +Teddy Biffles' Story--Johnson and Emily; or, the Faithful Ghost +Interlude--The Doctor's Story +Mr. Coombe's Story--The Haunted Mill; or, the Ruined Home +Interlude +My Uncle's Story--The Ghost of the Blue Chamber +A Personal Explanation +My Own Story + + + + +INTRODUCTORY + + + +It was Christmas Eve. + +I begin this way because it is the proper, orthodox, respectable +way to begin, and I have been brought up in a proper, orthodox, +respectable way, and taught to always do the proper, orthodox, +respectable thing; and the habit clings to me. + +Of course, as a mere matter of information it is quite unnecessary +to mention the date at all. The experienced reader knows it was +Christmas Eve, without my telling him. It always is Christmas Eve, +in a ghost story, + +Christmas Eve is the ghosts' great gala night. On Christmas Eve +they hold their annual fete. On Christmas Eve everybody in +Ghostland who IS anybody--or rather, speaking of ghosts, one should +say, I suppose, every nobody who IS any nobody--comes out to show +himself or herself, to see and to be seen, to promenade about and +display their winding-sheets and grave-clothes to each other, to +criticise one another's style, and sneer at one another's +complexion. + +"Christmas Eve parade," as I expect they themselves term it, is a +function, doubtless, eagerly prepared for and looked forward to +throughout Ghostland, especially the swagger set, such as the +murdered Barons, the crime-stained Countesses, and the Earls who +came over with the Conqueror, and assassinated their relatives, and +died raving mad. + +Hollow moans and fiendish grins are, one may be sure, energetically +practised up. Blood-curdling shrieks and marrow-freezing gestures +are probably rehearsed for weeks beforehand. Rusty chains and gory +daggers are over-hauled, and put into good working order; and +sheets and shrouds, laid carefully by from the previous year's +show, are taken down and shaken out, and mended, and aired. + +Oh, it is a stirring night in Ghostland, the night of December the +twenty-fourth! + +Ghosts never come out on Christmas night itself, you may have +noticed. Christmas Eve, we suspect, has been too much for them; +they are not used to excitement. For about a week after Christmas +Eve, the gentlemen ghosts, no doubt, feel as if they were all head, +and go about making solemn resolutions to themselves that they will +stop in next Christmas Eve; while lady spectres are contradictory +and snappish, and liable to burst into tears and leave the room +hurriedly on being spoken to, for no perceptible cause whatever. + +Ghosts with no position to maintain--mere middle-class ghosts-- +occasionally, I believe, do a little haunting on off-nights: on +All-hallows Eve, and at Midsummer; and some will even run up for a +mere local event--to celebrate, for instance, the anniversary of +the hanging of somebody's grandfather, or to prophesy a misfortune. + +He does love prophesying a misfortune, does the average British +ghost. Send him out to prognosticate trouble to somebody, and he +is happy. Let him force his way into a peaceful home, and turn the +whole house upside down by foretelling a funeral, or predicting a +bankruptcy, or hinting at a coming disgrace, or some other terrible +disaster, about which nobody in their senses would want to know sooner +than they could possibly help, and the prior knowledge of which can +serve no useful purpose whatsoever, and he feels that he is +combining duty with pleasure. He would never forgive himself if +anybody in his family had a trouble and he had not been there for a +couple of months beforehand, doing silly tricks on the lawn, or +balancing himself on somebody's bed-rail. + +Then there are, besides, the very young, or very conscientious +ghosts with a lost will or an undiscovered number weighing heavy on +their minds, who will haunt steadily all the year round; and also +the fussy ghost, who is indignant at having been buried in the +dust-bin or in the village pond, and who never gives the parish a +single night's quiet until somebody has paid for a first-class +funeral for him. + +But these are the exceptions. As I have said, the average orthodox +ghost does his one turn a year, on Christmas Eve, and is satisfied. + +Why on Christmas Eve, of all nights in the year, I never could +myself understand. It is invariably one of the most dismal of +nights to be out in--cold, muddy, and wet. And besides, at +Christmas time, everybody has quite enough to put up with in the +way of a houseful of living relations, without wanting the ghosts +of any dead ones mooning about the place, I am sure. + +There must be something ghostly in the air of Christmas--something +about the close, muggy atmosphere that draws up the ghosts, like +the dampness of the summer rains brings out the frogs and snails. + +And not only do the ghosts themselves always walk on Christmas Eve, +but live people always sit and talk about them on Christmas Eve. +Whenever five or six English-speaking people meet round a fire on +Christmas Eve, they start telling each other ghost stories. +Nothing satisfies us on Christmas Eve but to hear each other tell +authentic anecdotes about spectres. It is a genial, festive +season, and we love to muse upon graves, and dead bodies, and +murders, and blood. + +There is a good deal of similarity about our ghostly experiences; +but this of course is not our fault but the fault of ghosts, who never +will try any new performances, but always will keep steadily to +old, safe business. The consequence is that, when you have been at +one Christmas Eve party, and heard six people relate their +adventures with spirits, you do not require to hear any more ghost +stories. To listen to any further ghost stories after that would +be like sitting out two farcical comedies, or taking in two comic +journals; the repetition would become wearisome. + +There is always the young man who was, one year, spending the +Christmas at a country house, and, on Christmas Eve, they put him +to sleep in the west wing. Then in the middle of the night, the +room door quietly opens and somebody--generally a lady in her +night-dress--walks slowly in, and comes and sits on the bed. The +young man thinks it must be one of the visitors, or some relative +of the family, though he does not remember having previously seen +her, who, unable to go to sleep, and feeling lonesome, all by +herself, has come into his room for a chat. He has no idea it is a +ghost: he is so unsuspicious. She does not speak, however; and, +when he looks again, she is gone! + +The young man relates the circumstance at the breakfast-table next +morning, and asks each of the ladies present if it were she who was +his visitor. But they all assure him that it was not, and the +host, who has grown deadly pale, begs him to say no more about the +matter, which strikes the young man as a singularly strange +request. + +After breakfast the host takes the young man into a corner, and +explains to him that what he saw was the ghost of a lady who had +been murdered in that very bed, or who had murdered somebody else +there--it does not really matter which: you can be a ghost by +murdering somebody else or by being murdered yourself, whichever +you prefer. The murdered ghost is, perhaps, the more popular; but, +on the other hand, you can frighten people better if you are the +murdered one, because then you can show your wounds and do groans. + +Then there is the sceptical guest--it is always 'the guest' who +gets let in for this sort of thing, by-the-bye. A ghost never +thinks much of his own family: it is 'the guest' he likes to haunt +who after listening to the host's ghost story, on Christmas Eve, +laughs at it, and says that he does not believe there are such +things as ghosts at all; and that he will sleep in the haunted +chamber that very night, if they will let him. + +Everybody urges him not to be reckless, but he persists in his +foolhardiness, and goes up to the Yellow Chamber (or whatever +colour the haunted room may be) with a light heart and a candle, +and wishes them all good-night, and shuts the door. + +Next morning he has got snow-white hair. + +He does not tell anybody what he has seen: it is too awful. + +There is also the plucky guest, who sees a ghost, and knows it is a +ghost, and watches it, as it comes into the room and disappears +through the wainscot, after which, as the ghost does not seem to be +coming back, and there is nothing, consequently, to be gained by +stopping awake, he goes to sleep. + +He does not mention having seen the ghost to anybody, for fear of +frightening them--some people are so nervous about ghosts,--but +determines to wait for the next night, and see if the apparition +appears again. + +It does appear again, and, this time, he gets out of bed, dresses +himself and does his hair, and follows it; and then discovers a +secret passage leading from the bedroom down into the beer-cellar,- +-a passage which, no doubt, was not unfrequently made use of in the +bad old days of yore. + +After him comes the young man who woke up with a strange sensation +in the middle of the night, and found his rich bachelor uncle +standing by his bedside. The rich uncle smiled a weird sort of +smile and vanished. The young man immediately got up and looked at +his watch. It had stopped at half-past four, he having forgotten +to wind it. + +He made inquiries the next day, and found that, strangely enough, +his rich uncle, whose only nephew he was, had married a widow with +eleven children at exactly a quarter to twelve, only two days ago, + +The young man does not attempt to explain the circumstance. All he +does is to vouch for the truth of his narrative. + +And, to mention another case, there is the gentleman who is +returning home late at night, from a Freemasons' dinner, and who, +noticing a light issuing from a ruined abbey, creeps up, and looks +through the keyhole. He sees the ghost of a 'grey sister' kissing +the ghost of a brown monk, and is so inexpressibly shocked and +frightened that he faints on the spot, and is discovered there the +next morning, lying in a heap against the door, still speechless, +and with his faithful latch-key clasped tightly in his hand. + +All these things happen on Christmas Eve, they are all told of on +Christmas Eve. For ghost stories to be told on any other evening +than the evening of the twenty-fourth of December would be +impossible in English society as at present regulated. Therefore, +in introducing the sad but authentic ghost stories that follow +hereafter, I feel that it is unnecessary to inform the student of +Anglo-Saxon literature that the date on which they were told and on +which the incidents took place was--Christmas Eve. + +Nevertheless, I do so. + + + +NOW THE STORIES CAME TO BE TOLD + + + +It was Christmas Eve! Christmas Eve at my Uncle John's; Christmas +Eve (There is too much 'Christmas Eve' about this book. I can see +that myself. It is beginning to get monotonous even to me. But I +don't see how to avoid it now.) at No. 47 Laburnham Grove, Tooting! +Christmas Eve in the dimly-lighted (there was a gas-strike on) +front parlour, where the flickering fire-light threw strange +shadows on the highly coloured wall-paper, while without, in the +wild street, the storm raged pitilessly, and the wind, like some +unquiet spirit, flew, moaning, across the square, and passed, +wailing with a troubled cry, round by the milk-shop. + +We had had supper, and were sitting round, talking and smoking. + +We had had a very good supper--a very good supper, indeed. +Unpleasantness has occurred since, in our family, in connection +with this party. Rumours have been put about in our family, +concerning the matter generally, but more particularly concerning +my own share in it, and remarks have been passed which have not so +much surprised me, because I know what our family are, but which +have pained me very much. As for my Aunt Maria, I do not know when +I shall care to see her again. I should have thought Aunt Maria +might have known me better. + +But although injustice--gross injustice, as I shall explain later +on--has been done to myself, that shall not deter me from doing +justice to others; even to those who have made unfeeling +insinuations. I will do justice to Aunt Maria's hot veal pasties, +and toasted lobsters, followed by her own special make of +cheesecakes, warm (there is no sense, to my thinking, in cold +cheesecakes; you lose half the flavour), and washed down by Uncle +John's own particular old ale, and acknowledge that they were most +tasty. I did justice to them then; Aunt Maria herself could not +but admit that. + +After supper, Uncle brewed some whisky-punch. I did justice to +that also; Uncle John himself said so. He said he was glad to +notice that I liked it. + +Aunt went to bed soon after supper, leaving the local curate, old +Dr. Scrubbles, Mr. Samuel Coombes, our member of the County +Council, Teddy Biffles, and myself to keep Uncle company. We +agreed that it was too early to give in for some time yet, so Uncle +brewed another bowl of punch; and I think we all did justice to +that--at least I know I did. It is a passion with me, is the +desire to do justice. + +We sat up for a long while, and the Doctor brewed some gin-punch +later on, for a change, though I could not taste much difference +myself. But it was all good, and we were very happy--everybody was +so kind. + +Uncle John told us a very funny story in the course of the evening. +Oh, it WAS a funny story! I forget what it was about now, but I +know it amused me very much at the time; I do not think I ever +laughed so much in all my life. It is strange that I cannot +recollect that story too, because he told it us four times. And it +was entirely our own fault that he did not tell it us a fifth. +After that, the Doctor sang a very clever song, in the course of +which he imitated all the different animals in a farmyard. He did +mix them a bit. He brayed for the bantam cock, and crowed for the +pig; but we knew what he meant all right. + +I started relating a most interesting anecdote, but was somewhat +surprised to observe, as I went on, that nobody was paying the +slightest attention to me whatever. I thought this rather rude of +them at first, until it dawned upon me that I was talking to myself +all the time, instead of out aloud, so that, of course, they did +not know that I was telling them a tale at all, and were probably +puzzled to understand the meaning of my animated expression and +eloquent gestures. It was a most curious mistake for any one to +make. I never knew such a thing happen to me before. + +Later on, our curate did tricks with cards. He asked us if we had +ever seen a game called the "Three Card Trick." He said it was an +artifice by means of which low, unscrupulous men, frequenters of +race-meetings and such like haunts, swindled foolish young fellows +out of their money. He said it was a very simple trick to do: it +all depended on the quickness of the hand. It was the quickness of +the hand deceived the eye. + +He said he would show us the imposture so that we might be warned +against it, and not be taken in by it; and he fetched Uncle's pack +of cards from the tea-caddy, and, selecting three cards from the +pack, two plain cards and one picture card, sat down on the +hearthrug, and explained to us what he was going to do. + +He said: "Now I shall take these three cards in my hand--so--and +let you all see them. And then I shall quietly lay them down on +the rug, with the backs uppermost, and ask you to pick out the +picture card. And you'll think you know which one it is." And he +did it. + +Old Mr. Coombes, who is also one of our churchwardens, said it was +the middle card. + +"You fancy you saw it," said our curate, smiling. + +"I don't 'fancy' anything at all about it," replied Mr. Coombes, "I +tell you it's the middle card. I'll bet you half a dollar it's the +middle card." + +"There you are, that's just what I was explaining to you," said our +curate, turning to the rest of us; "that's the way these foolish +young fellows that I was speaking of are lured on to lose their +money. They make sure they know the card, they fancy they saw it. +They don't grasp the idea that it is the quickness of the hand that +has deceived their eye." + +He said he had known young men go off to a boat race, or a cricket +match, with pounds in their pocket, and come home, early in the +afternoon, stone broke; having lost all their money at this +demoralising game. + +He said he should take Mr. Coombes's half-crown, because it would +teach Mr. Coombes a very useful lesson, and probably be the means +of saving Mr. Coombes's money in the future; and he should give the +two-and-sixpence to the blanket fund. + +"Don't you worry about that," retorted old Mr. Coombes. "Don't you +take the half-crown OUT of the blanket fund: that's all." + +And he put his money on the middle card, and turned it up. + +Sure enough, it really was the queen! + +We were all very much surprised, especially the curate. + +He said that it did sometimes happen that way, though--that a man +did sometimes lay on the right card, by accident. + +Our curate said it was, however, the most unfortunate thing a man +could do for himself, if he only knew it, because, when a man tried +and won, it gave him a taste for the so-called sport, and it lured +him on into risking again and again; until he had to retire from +the contest, a broken and ruined man. + +Then he did the trick again. Mr. Coombes said it was the card next +the coal-scuttle this time, and wanted to put five shillings on it. + +We laughed at him, and tried to persuade him against it. He would +listen to no advice, however, but insisted on plunging. + +Our curate said very well then: he had warned him, and that was +all that he could do. If he (Mr. Coombes) was determined to make a +fool of himself, he (Mr. Coombes) must do so. + +Our curate said he should take the five shillings and that would +put things right again with the blanket fund. + +So Mr. Coombes put two half-crowns on the card next the coal- +scuttle and turned it up. + +Sure enough, it was the queen again! + +After that, Uncle John had a florin on, and HE won. + +And then we all played at it; and we all won. All except the +curate, that is. He had a very bad quarter of an hour. I never +knew a man have such hard luck at cards. He lost every time. + +We had some more punch after that; and Uncle made such a funny +mistake in brewing it: he left out the whisky. Oh, we did laugh +at him, and we made him put in double quantity afterwards, as a +forfeit. + +Oh, we did have such fun that evening! + +And then, somehow or other, we must have got on to ghosts; because +the next recollection I have is that we were telling ghost stories +to each other. + + + +TEDDY BIFFLES' STORY + + + +Teddy Biffles told the first story, I will let him repeat it here +in his own words. + +(Do not ask me how it is that I recollect his own exact words-- +whether I took them down in shorthand at the time, or whether he +had the story written out, and handed me the MS. afterwards for +publication in this book, because I should not tell you if you did. +It is a trade secret.) + +Biffles called his story - + + +JOHNSON AND EMILY +OR +THE FAITHFUL GHOST +(Teddy Biffles' Story) + + +I was little more than a lad when I first met with Johnson. I was +home for the Christmas holidays, and, it being Christmas Eve, I had +been allowed to sit up very late. On opening the door of my little +bedroom, to go in, I found myself face to face with Johnson, who +was coming out. It passed through me, and uttering a long low wail +of misery, disappeared out of the staircase window. + +I was startled for the moment--I was only a schoolboy at the time, +and had never seen a ghost before,--and felt a little nervous about +going to bed. But, on reflection, I remembered that it was only +sinful people that spirits could do any harm to, and so tucked +myself up, and went to sleep. + +In the morning I told the Pater what I had seen. + +"Oh yes, that was old Johnson," he answered. "Don't you be +frightened of that; he lives here." And then he told me the poor +thing's history. + +It seemed that Johnson, when it was alive, had loved, in early +life, the daughter of a former lessee of our house, a very +beautiful girl, whose Christian name had been Emily. Father did +not know her other name. + +Johnson was too poor to marry the girl, so he kissed her good-bye, +told her he would soon be back, and went off to Australia to make +his fortune. + +But Australia was not then what it became later on. Travellers +through the bush were few and far between in those early days; and, +even when one was caught, the portable property found upon the body +was often of hardly sufficiently negotiable value to pay the simple +funeral expenses rendered necessary. So that it took Johnson +nearly twenty years to make his fortune. + +The self-imposed task was accomplished at last, however, and then, +having successfully eluded the police, and got clear out of the +Colony, he returned to England, full of hope and joy, to claim his +bride. + +He reached the house to find it silent and deserted. All that the +neighbours could tell him was that, soon after his own departure, +the family had, on one foggy night, unostentatiously disappeared, +and that nobody had ever seen or heard anything of them since, +although the landlord and most of the local tradesmen had made +searching inquiries. + +Poor Johnson, frenzied with grief, sought his lost love all over +the world. But he never found her, and, after years of fruitless +effort, he returned to end his lonely life in the very house where, +in the happy bygone days, he and his beloved Emily had passed so +many blissful hours. + +He had lived there quite alone, wandering about the empty rooms, +weeping and calling to his Emily to come back to him; and when the +poor old fellow died, his ghost still kept the business on. + +It was there, the Pater said, when he took the house, and the agent +had knocked ten pounds a year off the rent in consequence. + +After that, I was continually meeting Johnson about the place at +all times of the night, and so, indeed, were we all. We used to +walk round it and stand aside to let it pass, at first; but, when +we grew at home with it, and there seemed no necessity for so much +ceremony, we used to walk straight through it. You could not say +it was ever much in the way. + +It was a gentle, harmless, old ghost, too, and we all felt very +sorry for it, and pitied it. The women folk, indeed, made quite a +pet of it, for a while. Its faithfulness touched them so. + +But as time went on, it grew to be a bit of a bore. You see it was +full of sadness. There was nothing cheerful or genial about it. +You felt sorry for it, but it irritated you. It would sit on the +stairs and cry for hours at a stretch; and, whenever we woke up in +the night, one was sure to hear it pottering about the passages and +in and out of the different rooms, moaning and sighing, so that we +could not get to sleep again very easily. And when we had a party +on, it would come and sit outside the drawing-room door, and sob +all the time. It did not do anybody any harm exactly, but it cast +a gloom over the whole affair. + +"Oh, I'm getting sick of this old fool," said the Pater, one +evening (the Dad can be very blunt, when he is put out, as you +know), after Johnson had been more of a nuisance than usual, and +had spoiled a good game of whist, by sitting up the chimney and +groaning, till nobody knew what were trumps or what suit had been +led, even. "We shall have to get rid of him, somehow or other. I +wish I knew how to do it." + +"Well," said the Mater, "depend upon it, you'll never see the last +of him until he's found Emily's grave. That's what he is after. +You find Emily's grave, and put him on to that, and he'll stop +there. That's the only thing to do. You mark my words." + +The idea seemed reasonable, but the difficulty in the way was that +we none of us knew where Emily's grave was any more than the ghost +of Johnson himself did. The Governor suggested palming off some +other Emily's grave upon the poor thing, but, as luck would have +it, there did not seem to have been an Emily of any sort buried +anywhere for miles round. I never came across a neighbourhood so +utterly destitute of dead Emilies. + +I thought for a bit, and then I hazarded a suggestion myself. + +"Couldn't we fake up something for the old chap?" I queried. "He +seems a simple-minded old sort. He might take it in. Anyhow, we +could but try." + +"By Jove, so we will," exclaimed my father; and the very next +morning we had the workmen in, and fixed up a little mound at the +bottom of the orchard with a tombstone over it, bearing the +following inscription:- + + +SACRED +TO THE MEMORY OF +EMILY +HER LAST WORDS WERE - +"TELL JOHNSON I LOVE HIM" + + +"That ought to fetch him," mused the Dad as he surveyed the work +when finished. "I am sure I hope it does." + +It did! + +We lured him down there that very night; and--well, there, it was +one of the most pathetic things I have ever seen, the way Johnson +sprang upon that tombstone and wept. Dad and old Squibbins, the +gardener, cried like children when they saw it. + +Johnson has never troubled us any more in the house since then. It +spends every night now, sobbing on the grave, and seems quite +happy. + +"There still?" Oh yes. I'll take you fellows down and show you +it, next time you come to our place: 10 p.m. to 4 a.m. are its +general hours, 10 to 2 on Saturdays. + + + +INTERLUDE--THE DOCTOR'S STORY + + + +It made me cry very much, that story, young Biffles told it with so +much feeling. We were all a little thoughtful after it, and I +noticed even the old Doctor covertly wipe away a tear. Uncle John +brewed another bowl of punch, however, and we gradually grew more +resigned. + +The Doctor, indeed, after a while became almost cheerful, and told +us about the ghost of one of his patients. + +I cannot give you his story. I wish I could. They all said +afterwards that it was the best of the lot--the most ghastly and +terrible--but I could not make any sense of it myself. It seemed +so incomplete. + +He began all right and then something seemed to happen, and then he +was finishing it. I cannot make out what he did with the middle of +the story. + +It ended up, I know, however, with somebody finding something; and +that put Mr. Coombes in mind of a very curious affair that took +place at an old Mill, once kept by his brother-in-law. + +Mr. Coombes said he would tell us his story, and before anybody +could stop him, he had begun. + +Mr Coombes said the story was called - + + +THE HAUNTED MILL +OR +THE RUINED HOME +(Mr. Coombes's Story) + + +Well, you all know my brother-in-law, Mr. Parkins (began Mr. +Coombes, taking the long clay pipe from his mouth, and putting it +behind his ear: we did not know his brother-in-law, but we said we +did, so as to save time), and you know of course that he once took +a lease of an old Mill in Surrey, and went to live there. + +Now you must know that, years ago, this very mill had been occupied +by a wicked old miser, who died there, leaving--so it was rumoured- +-all his money hidden somewhere about the place. Naturally enough, +every one who had since come to live at the mill had tried to find +the treasure; but none had ever succeeded, and the local wiseacres +said that nobody ever would, unless the ghost of the miserly miller +should, one day, take a fancy to one of the tenants, and disclose +to him the secret of the hiding-place. + +My brother-in-law did not attach much importance to the story, +regarding it as an old woman's tale, and, unlike his predecessors, +made no attempt whatever to discover the hidden gold. + +"Unless business was very different then from what it is now," said +my brother-in-law, "I don't see how a miller could very well have +saved anything, however much of a miser he might have been: at all +events, not enough to make it worth the trouble of looking for it." + +Still, he could not altogether get rid of the idea of that +treasure. + +One night he went to bed. There was nothing very extraordinary +about that, I admit. He often did go to bed of a night. What WAS +remarkable, however, was that exactly as the clock of the village +church chimed the last stroke of twelve, my brother-in-law woke up +with a start, and felt himself quite unable to go to sleep again. + +Joe (his Christian name was Joe) sat up in bed, and looked around. + +At the foot of the bed something stood very still, wrapped in +shadow. + +It moved into the moonlight, and then my brother-in-law saw that it +was the figure of a wizened little old man, in knee-breeches and a +pig-tail. + +In an instant the story of the hidden treasure and the old miser +flashed across his mind. + +"He's come to show me where it's hid," thought my brother-in-law; +and he resolved that he would not spend all this money on himself, +but would devote a small percentage of it towards doing good to +others. + +The apparition moved towards the door: my brother-in-law put on +his trousers and followed it. The ghost went downstairs into the +kitchen, glided over and stood in front of the hearth, sighed and +disappeared. + +Next morning, Joe had a couple of bricklayers in, and made them +haul out the stove and pull down the chimney, while he stood behind +with a potato-sack in which to put the gold. + +They knocked down half the wall, and never found so much as a four- +penny bit. My brother-in-law did not know what to think. + +The next night the old man appeared again, and again led the way +into the kitchen. This time, however, instead of going to the +fireplace, it stood more in the middle of the room, and sighed +there. + +"Oh, I see what he means now," said my brother-in-law to himself; +"it's under the floor. Why did the old idiot go and stand up +against the stove, so as to make me think it was up the chimney?" + +They spent the next day in taking up the kitchen floor; but the +only thing they found was a three-pronged fork, and the handle of +that was broken. + +On the third night, the ghost reappeared, quite unabashed, and for +a third time made for the kitchen. Arrived there, it looked up at +the ceiling and vanished. + +"Umph! he don't seem to have learned much sense where he's been +to," muttered Joe, as he trotted back to bed; "I should have +thought he might have done that at first." + +Still, there seemed no doubt now where the treasure lay, and the +first thing after breakfast they started pulling down the ceiling. +They got every inch of the ceiling down, and they took up the +boards of the room above. + +They discovered about as much treasure as you would expect to find +in an empty quart-pot. + +On the fourth night, when the ghost appeared, as usual, my brother- +in-law was so wild that he threw his boots at it; and the boots +passed through the body, and broke a looking-glass. + +On the fifth night, when Joe awoke, as he always did now at twelve, +the ghost was standing in a dejected attitude, looking very +miserable. There was an appealing look in its large sad eyes that +quite touched my brother-in-law. + +"After all," he thought, "perhaps the silly chap's doing his best. +Maybe he has forgotten where he really did put it, and is trying to +remember. I'll give him another chance." + +The ghost appeared grateful and delighted at seeing Joe prepare to +follow him, and led the way into the attic, pointed to the ceiling, +and vanished. + +"Well, he's hit it this time, I do hope," said my brother-in-law; +and next day they set to work to take the roof off the place. + +It took them three days to get the roof thoroughly off, and all +they found was a bird's nest; after securing which they covered up +the house with tarpaulins, to keep it dry. + +You might have thought that would have cured the poor fellow of +looking for treasure. But it didn't. + +He said there must be something in it all, or the ghost would never +keep on coming as it did; and that, having gone so far, he would go +on to the end, and solve the mystery, cost what it might. + +Night after night, he would get out of his bed and follow that +spectral old fraud about the house. Each night, the old man would +indicate a different place; and, on each following day, my brother- +in-law would proceed to break up the mill at the point indicated, +and look for the treasure. At the end of three weeks, there was +not a room in the mill fit to live in. Every wall had been pulled +down, every floor had been taken up, every ceiling had had a hole +knocked in it. And then, as suddenly as they had begun, the +ghost's visits ceased; and my brother-in-law was left in peace, to +rebuild the place at his leisure. + +"What induced the old image to play such a silly trick upon a +family man and a ratepayer?" Ah! that's just what I cannot tell +you. + +Some said that the ghost of the wicked old man had done it to +punish my brother-in-law for not believing in him at first; while +others held that the apparition was probably that of some deceased +local plumber and glazier, who would naturally take an interest in +seeing a house knocked about and spoilt. But nobody knew anything +for certain. + + + +INTERLUDE + + + +We had some more punch, and then the curate told us a story. + +I could not make head or tail of the curate's story, so I cannot +retail it to you. We none of us could make head or tail of that +story. It was a good story enough, so far as material went. There +seemed to be an enormous amount of plot, and enough incident to +have made a dozen novels. I never before heard a story containing +so much incident, nor one dealing with so many varied characters. + +I should say that every human being our curate had ever known or +met, or heard of, was brought into that story. There were simply +hundreds of them. Every five seconds he would introduce into the +tale a completely fresh collection of characters accompanied by a +brand new set of incidents. + +This was the sort of story it was:- + +"Well, then, my uncle went into the garden, and got his gun, but, +of course, it wasn't there, and Scroggins said he didn't believe +it." + +"Didn't believe what? Who's Scroggins?" + +"Scroggins! Oh, why he was the other man, you know--it was his wife." + +"WHAT was his wife--what's SHE got to do with it?" + +"Why, that's what I'm telling you. It was she that found the hat. +She'd come up with her cousin to London--her cousin was my sister- +in-law, and the other niece had married a man named Evans, and +Evans, after it was all over, had taken the box round to Mr. +Jacobs', because Jacobs' father had seen the man, when he was +alive, and when he was dead, Joseph--" + +"Now look here, never you mind Evans and the box; what's become of +your uncle and the gun?" + +"The gun! What gun?" + +"Why, the gun that your uncle used to keep in the garden, and that +wasn't there. What did he do with it? Did he kill any of these +people with it--these Jacobses and Evanses and Scrogginses and +Josephses? Because, if so, it was a good and useful work, and we +should enjoy hearing about it." + +"No--oh no--how could he?--he had been built up alive in the wall, +you know, and when Edward IV spoke to the abbot about it, my sister +said that in her then state of health she could not and would not, +as it was endangering the child's life. So they christened it +Horatio, after her own son, who had been killed at Waterloo before +he was born, and Lord Napier himself said--" + +"Look here, do you know what you are talking about?" we asked him +at this point. + +He said "No," but he knew it was every word of it true, because his +aunt had seen it herself. Whereupon we covered him over with the +tablecloth, and he went to sleep. + +And then Uncle told us a story. + +Uncle said his was a real story. + + + +THE GHOST OF THE BLUE CHAMBER +(My Uncle's Story) + + + +"I don't want to make you fellows nervous," began my uncle in a +peculiarly impressive, not to say blood-curdling, tone of voice, +"and if you would rather that I did not mention it, I won't; but, +as a matter of fact, this very house, in which we are now sitting, +is haunted." + +"You don't say that!" exclaimed Mr. Coombes. + +"What's the use of your saying I don't say it when I have just said +it?" retorted my uncle somewhat pettishly. "You do talk so +foolishly. I tell you the house is haunted. Regularly on +Christmas Eve the Blue Chamber [they called the room next to the +nursery the 'blue chamber,' at my uncle's, most of the toilet +service being of that shade] is haunted by the ghost of a sinful +man--a man who once killed a Christmas wait with a lump of coal." + +"How did he do it?" asked Mr. Coombes, with eager anxiousness. +"Was it difficult?" + +"I do not know how he did it," replied my uncle; "he did not +explain the process. The wait had taken up a position just inside +the front gate, and was singing a ballad. It is presumed that, +when he opened his mouth for B flat, the lump of coal was thrown by +the sinful man from one of the windows, and that it went down the +wait's throat and choked him." + +"You want to be a good shot, but it is certainly worth trying," +murmured Mr. Coombes thoughtfully. + +"But that was not his only crime, alas!" added my uncle. "Prior to +that he had killed a solo cornet-player." + +"No! Is that really a fact?" exclaimed Mr. Coombes. + +"Of course it's a fact," answered my uncle testily; "at all events, +as much a fact as you can expect to get in a case of this sort. + +"How very captious you are this evening. The circumstantial +evidence was overwhelming. The poor fellow, the cornet-player, had +been in the neighbourhood barely a month. Old Mr. Bishop, who kept +the 'Jolly Sand Boys' at the time, and from whom I had the story, +said he had never known a more hard-working and energetic solo +cornet-player. He, the cornet-player, only knew two tunes, but Mr. +Bishop said that the man could not have played with more vigour, or +for more hours in a day, if he had known forty. The two tunes he +did play were "Annie Laurie" and "Home, Sweet Home"; and as +regarded his performance of the former melody, Mr. Bishop said that +a mere child could have told what it was meant for. + +"This musician--this poor, friendless artist used to come regularly +and play in this street just opposite for two hours every evening. +One evening he was seen, evidently in response to an invitation, +going into this very house, BUT WAS NEVER SEEN COMING OUT OF IT!" + +"Did the townsfolk try offering any reward for his recovery?" asked +Mr. Coombes. + +"Not a ha'penny," replied my uncle. + +"Another summer," continued my uncle, "a German band visited here, +intending--so they announced on their arrival--to stay till the +autumn. + +"On the second day from their arrival, the whole company, as fine +and healthy a body of men as one could wish to see, were invited to +dinner by this sinful man, and, after spending the whole of the +next twenty-four hours in bed, left the town a broken and dyspeptic +crew; the parish doctor, who had attended them, giving it as his +opinion that it was doubtful if they would, any of them, be fit to +play an air again." + +"You--you don't know the recipe, do you?" asked Mr. Coombes. + +"Unfortunately I do not," replied my uncle; "but the chief +ingredient was said to have been railway refreshment-room pork-pie. + +"I forget the man's other crimes," my uncle went on; "I used to +know them all at one time, but my memory is not what it was. I do +not, however, believe I am doing his memory an injustice in +believing that he was not entirely unconnected with the death, and +subsequent burial, of a gentleman who used to play the harp with +his toes; and that neither was he altogether unresponsible for the +lonely grave of an unknown stranger who had once visited the +neighbourhood, an Italian peasant lad, a performer upon the barrel- +organ. + +"Every Christmas Eve," said my uncle, cleaving with low impressive +tones the strange awed silence that, like a shadow, seemed to have +slowly stolen into and settled down upon the room, "the ghost of +this sinful man haunts the Blue Chamber, in this very house. +There, from midnight until cock-crow, amid wild muffled shrieks and +groans and mocking laughter and the ghostly sound of horrid blows, +it does fierce phantom fight with the spirits of the solo cornet- +player and the murdered wait, assisted at intervals, by the shades +of the German band; while the ghost of the strangled harpist plays +mad ghostly melodies with ghostly toes on the ghost of a broken +harp. + +Uncle said the Blue Chamber was comparatively useless as a +sleeping-apartment on Christmas Eve. + +"Hark!" said uncle, raising a warning hand towards the ceiling, +while we held our breath, and listened; "Hark! I believe they are +at it now--in the BLUE CHAMBER!" + + + +THE BLUE CHAMBER + + + +I rose up, and said that I would sleep in the Blue Chamber. + +Before I tell you my own story, however--the story of what happened +in the Blue Chamber--I would wish to preface it with - + + + +A PERSONAL EXPLANATION + + + +I feel a good deal of hesitation about telling you this story of my +own. You see it is not a story like the other stories that I have +been telling you, or rather that Teddy Biffles, Mr. Coombes, and my +uncle have been telling you: it is a true story. It is not a +story told by a person sitting round a fire on Christmas Eve, +drinking whisky punch: it is a record of events that actually +happened. + +Indeed, it is not a 'story' at all, in the commonly accepted +meaning of the word: it is a report. It is, I feel, almost out of +place in a book of this kind. It is more suitable to a biography, +or an English history. + +There is another thing that makes it difficult for me to tell you +this story, and that is, that it is all about myself. In telling +you this story, I shall have to keep on talking about myself; and +talking about ourselves is what we modern-day authors have a strong +objection to doing. If we literary men of the new school have one +praiseworthy yearning more ever present to our minds than another +it is the yearning never to appear in the slightest degree +egotistical. + +I myself, so I am told, carry this coyness--this shrinking +reticence concerning anything connected with my own personality, +almost too far; and people grumble at me because of it. People +come to me and say - + +"Well, now, why don't you talk about yourself a bit? That's what +we want to read about. Tell us something about yourself." + +But I have always replied, "No." It is not that I do not think the +subject an interesting one. I cannot myself conceive of any topic +more likely to prove fascinating to the world as a whole, or at all +events to the cultured portion of it. But I will not do it, on +principle. It is inartistic, and it sets a bad example to the +younger men. Other writers (a few of them) do it, I know; but I +will not--not as a rule. + +Under ordinary circumstances, therefore, I should not tell you this +story at all. I should say to myself, "No! It is a good story, it +is a moral story, it is a strange, weird, enthralling sort of a +story; and the public, I know, would like to hear it; and I should +like to tell it to them; but it is all about myself--about what I +said, and what I saw, and what I did, and I cannot do it. My +retiring, anti-egotistical nature will not permit me to talk in +this way about myself." + +But the circumstances surrounding this story are not ordinary, and +there are reasons prompting me, in spite of my modesty, to rather +welcome the opportunity of relating it. + +As I stated at the beginning, there has been unpleasantness in our +family over this party of ours, and, as regards myself in +particular, and my share in the events I am now about to set forth, +gross injustice has been done me. + +As a means of replacing my character in its proper light--of +dispelling the clouds of calumny and misconception with which it +has been darkened, I feel that my best course is to give a simple, +dignified narration of the plain facts, and allow the unprejudiced +to judge for themselves. My chief object, I candidly confess, is +to clear myself from unjust aspersion. Spurred by this motive--and +I think it is an honourable and a right motive--I find I am enabled +to overcome my usual repugnance to talking about myself, and can +thus tell - + + + +MY OWN STORY + + + +As soon as my uncle had finished his story, I, as I have already +told you, rose up and said that _I_ would sleep in the Blue Chamber +that very night. + +"Never!" cried my uncle, springing up. "You shall not put yourself +in this deadly peril. Besides, the bed is not made." + +"Never mind the bed," I replied. "I have lived in furnished +apartments for gentlemen, and have been accustomed to sleep on beds +that have never been made from one year's end to the other. Do not +thwart me in my resolve. I am young, and have had a clear +conscience now for over a month. The spirits will not harm me. I +may even do them some little good, and induce them to be quiet and +go away. Besides, I should like to see the show." + +Saying which, I sat down again. (How Mr. Coombes came to be in my +chair, instead of at the other side of the room, where he had been +all the evening; and why he never offered to apologise when I sat +right down on top of him; and why young Biffles should have tried +to palm himself off upon me as my Uncle John, and induced me, under +that erroneous impression, to shake him by the hand for nearly +three minutes, and tell him that I had always regarded him as +father,--are matters that, to this day, I have never been able to +fully understand.) + +They tried to dissuade me from what they termed my foolhardy +enterprise, but I remained firm, and claimed my privilege. I was +'the guest.' 'The guest' always sleeps in the haunted chamber on +Christmas Eve; it is his perquisite. + +They said that if I put it on that footing, they had, of course, no +answer; and they lighted a candle for me, and accompanied me +upstairs in a body. + +Whether elevated by the feeling that I was doing a noble action, or +animated by a mere general consciousness of rectitude, is not for +me to say, but I went upstairs that night with remarkable buoyancy. +It was as much as I could do to stop at the landing when I came to +it; I felt I wanted to go on up to the roof. But, with the help of +the banisters, I restrained my ambition, wished them all good- +night, and went in and shut the door. + +Things began to go wrong with me from the very first. The candle +tumbled out of the candlestick before my hand was off the lock. It +kept on tumbling out of the candlestick, and every time I picked +put it up and put it in, it tumbled out again: I never saw such a +slippery candle. I gave up attempting to use the candlestick at +last, and carried the candle about in my hand; and, even then, it +would not keep upright. So I got wild and threw it out of window, +and undressed and went to bed in the dark. + +I did not go to sleep,--I did not feel sleepy at all,--I lay on my +back, looking up at the ceiling, and thinking of things. I wish I +could remember some of the ideas that came to me as I lay there, +because they were so amusing. I laughed at them myself till the +bed shook. + +I had been lying like this for half an hour or so, and had +forgotten all about the ghost, when, on casually casting my eyes +round the room, I noticed for the first time a singularly +contented-looking phantom, sitting in the easy-chair by the fire, +smoking the ghost of a long clay pipe. + +I fancied for the moment, as most people would under similar +circumstances, that I must be dreaming. I sat up, and rubbed my +eyes. + +No! It was a ghost, clear enough. I could see the back of the +chair through his body. He looked over towards me, took the +shadowy pipe from his lips, and nodded. + +The most surprising part of the whole thing to me was that I did +not feel in the least alarmed. If anything, I was rather pleased +to see him. It was company. + +I said, "Good evening. It's been a cold day!" + +He said he had not noticed it himself, but dared say I was right. + +We remained silent for a few seconds, and then, wishing to put it +pleasantly, I said, "I believe I have the honour of addressing the +ghost of the gentleman who had the accident with the wait?" + +He smiled, and said it was very good of me to remember it. One +wait was not much to boast of, but still, every little helped. + +I was somewhat staggered at his answer. I had expected a groan of +remorse. The ghost appeared, on the contrary, to be rather +conceited over the business. I thought that, as he had taken my +reference to the wait so quietly, perhaps he would not be offended +if I questioned him about the organ-grinder. I felt curious about +that poor boy. + +"Is it true," I asked, "that you had a hand in the death of that +Italian peasant lad who came to the town once with a barrel-organ +that played nothing but Scotch airs?" + +He quite fired up. "Had a hand in it!" he exclaimed indignantly. +"Who has dared to pretend that he assisted me? I murdered the +youth myself. Nobody helped me. Alone I did it. Show me the man +who says I didn't." + +I calmed him. I assured him that I had never, in my own mind, +doubted that he was the real and only assassin, and I went on and +asked him what he had done with the body of the cornet-player he +had killed. + +He said, "To which one may you be alluding?" + +"Oh, were there any more then?" I inquired. + +He smiled, and gave a little cough. He said he did not like to +appear to be boasting, but that, counting trombones, there were +seven. + +"Dear me!" I replied, "you must have had quite a busy time of it, +one way and another." + +He said that perhaps he ought not to be the one to say so, but that +really, speaking of ordinary middle-society, he thought there were +few ghosts who could look back upon a life of more sustained +usefulness. + +He puffed away in silence for a few seconds, while I sat watching +him. I had never seen a ghost smoking a pipe before, that I could +remember, and it interested me. + +I asked him what tobacco he used, and he replied, "The ghost of cut +cavendish, as a rule." + +He explained that the ghost of all the tobacco that a man smoked in +life belonged to him when he became dead. He said he himself had +smoked a good deal of cut cavendish when he was alive, so that he +was well supplied with the ghost of it now. + +I observed that it was a useful thing to know that, and I made up +my mind to smoke as much tobacco as ever I could before I died. + +I thought I might as well start at once, so I said I would join him +in a pipe, and he said, "Do, old man"; and I reached over and got +out the necessary paraphernalia from my coat pocket and lit up. + +We grew quite chummy after that, and he told me all his crimes. He +said he had lived next door once to a young lady who was learning +to play the guitar, while a gentleman who practised on the bass- +viol lived opposite. And he, with fiendish cunning, had introduced +these two unsuspecting young people to one another, and had +persuaded them to elope with each other against their parents' +wishes, and take their musical instruments with them; and they had +done so, and, before the honeymoon was over, SHE had broken his +head with the bass-viol, and HE had tried to cram the guitar down +her throat, and had injured her for life. + +My friend said he used to lure muffin-men into the passage and then +stuff them with their own wares till they burst and died. He said +he had quieted eighteen that way. + +Young men and women who recited long and dreary poems at evening +parties, and callow youths who walked about the streets late at +night, playing concertinas, he used to get together and poison in +batches of ten, so as to save expense; and park orators and +temperance lecturers he used to shut up six in a small room with a +glass of water and a collection-box apiece, and let them talk each +other to death. + +It did one good to listen to him. + +I asked him when he expected the other ghosts--the ghosts of the +wait and the cornet-player, and the German band that Uncle John had +mentioned. He smiled, and said they would never come again, any of +them. + +I said, "Why; isn't it true, then, that they meet you here every +Christmas Eve for a row?" + +He replied that it WAS true. Every Christmas Eve, for twenty-five +years, had he and they fought in that room; but they would never +trouble him nor anybody else again. One by one, had he laid them +out, spoilt, and utterly useless for all haunting purposes. He had +finished off the last German-band ghost that very evening, just +before I came upstairs, and had thrown what was left of it out +through the slit between the window-sashes. He said it would never +be worth calling a ghost again. + +"I suppose you will still come yourself, as usual?" I said. "They +would be sorry to miss you, I know." + +"Oh, I don't know," he replied; "there's nothing much to come for +now. Unless," he added kindly, "YOU are going to be here. I'll +come if you will sleep here next Christmas Eve." + +"I have taken a liking to you," he continued; "you don't fly off, +screeching, when you see a party, and your hair doesn't stand on +end. You've no idea," he said, "how sick I am of seeing people's +hair standing on end." + +He said it irritated him. + +Just then a slight noise reached us from the yard below, and he +started and turned deathly black. + +"You are ill," I cried, springing towards him; "tell me the best +thing to do for you. Shall I drink some brandy, and give you the +ghost of it?" + +He remained silent, listening intently for a moment, and then he +gave a sigh of relief, and the shade came back to his cheek. + +"It's all right," he murmured; "I was afraid it was the cock." + +"Oh, it's too early for that," I said. "Why, it's only the middle +of the night." + +"Oh, that doesn't make any difference to those cursed chickens," he +replied bitterly. "They would just as soon crow in the middle of +the night as at any other time--sooner, if they thought it would +spoil a chap's evening out. I believe they do it on purpose." + +He said a friend of his, the ghost of a man who had killed a water- +rate collector, used to haunt a house in Long Acre, where they kept +fowls in the cellar, and every time a policeman went by and flashed +his bull's-eye down the grating, the old cock there would fancy it +was the sun, and start crowing like mad; when, of course, the poor +ghost had to dissolve, and it would, in consequence, get back home +sometimes as early as one o'clock in the morning, swearing +fearfully because it had only been out for an hour. + +I agreed that it seemed very unfair. + +"Oh, it's an absurd arrangement altogether," he continued, quite +angrily. "I can't imagine what our old man could have been +thinking of when he made it. As I have said to him, over and over +again, 'Have a fixed time, and let everybody stick to it--say four +o'clock in summer, and six in winter. Then one would know what one +was about.'" + +"How do you manage when there isn't any cock handy?" I inquired. + +He was on the point of replying, when again he started and +listened. This time I distinctly heard Mr. Bowles's cock, next +door, crow twice. + +"There you are," he said, rising and reaching for his hat; "that's +the sort of thing we have to put up with. What IS the time?" + +I looked at my watch, and found it was half-past three. + +"I thought as much," he muttered. "I'll wring that blessed bird's +neck if I get hold of it." And he prepared to go. + +"If you can wait half a minute," I said, getting out of bed, "I'll +go a bit of the way with you." + +"It's very good of you," he rejoined, pausing, "but it seems unkind +to drag you out." + +"Not at all," I replied; "I shall like a walk." And I partially +dressed myself, and took my umbrella; and he put his arm through +mine, and we went out together. + +Just by the gate we met Jones, one of the local constables. + +"Good-night, Jones," I said (I always feel affable at Christmas- +time). + +"Good-night, sir," answered the man a little gruffly, I thought. +"May I ask what you're a-doing of?" + +"Oh, it's all right," I responded, with a wave of my umbrella; "I'm +just seeing my friend part of the way home." + +He said, "What friend?" + +"Oh, ah, of course," I laughed; "I forgot. He's invisible to you. +He is the ghost of the gentleman that killed the wait. I'm just +going to the corner with him." + +"Ah, I don't think I would, if I was you, sir," said Jones +severely. "If you take my advice, you'll say good-bye to your +friend here, and go back indoors. Perhaps you are not aware that +you are walking about with nothing on but a night-shirt and a pair +of boots and an opera-hat. Where's your trousers?" + +I did not like the man's manner at all. I said, "Jones! I don't +wish to have to report you, but it seems to me you've been +drinking. My trousers are where a man's trousers ought to be--on +his legs. I distinctly remember putting them on." + +"Well, you haven't got them on now," he retorted. + +"I beg your pardon," I replied. "I tell you I have; I think I +ought to know." + +"I think so, too," he answered, "but you evidently don't. Now you +come along indoors with me, and don't let's have any more of it." + +Uncle John came to the door at this point, having been awaked, I +suppose, by the altercation; and, at the same moment, Aunt Maria +appeared at the window in her nightcap. + +I explained the constable's mistake to them, treating the matter as +lightly as I could, so as not to get the man into trouble, and I +turned for confirmation to the ghost. + +He was gone! He had left me without a word--without even saying +good-bye! + +It struck me as so unkind, his having gone off in that way, that I +burst into tears; and Uncle John came out, and led me back into the +house. + +On reaching my room, I discovered that Jones was right. I had not +put on my trousers, after all. They were still hanging over the +bed-rail. I suppose, in my anxiety not to keep the ghost waiting, +I must have forgotten them. + +Such are the plain facts of the case, out of which it must, +doubtless, to the healthy, charitable mind appear impossible that +calumny could spring. + +But it has. + +Persons--I say 'persons'--have professed themselves unable to +understand the simple circumstances herein narrated, except in the +light of explanations at once misleading and insulting. Slurs have +been cast and aspersions made on me by those of my own flesh and +blood. + +But I bear no ill-feeling. I merely, as I have said, set forth +this statement for the purpose of clearing my character from +injurious suspicion. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext of Told After Supper, by Jerome K. Jerome + diff --git a/1993.zip b/1993.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ace96b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/1993.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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