November 5th, 2011

everybody's tired of something

(no subject)

“don’t go on in this way,” i continued, rather weakly, for i did not know whether i was in a dream. “if you offer me a thousand guineas for this box i must take it. mustn’t i, dear granny?”

the table most distinctly said, “yes;” and putting out hisclaws to seize the box, mr. pinto plunged his hooked nose into it, and eagerly inhaled some of my 47 with a dash of hardman.

“but stay, you old harpy!” i exclaimed, being now in a sort ofrage, and quite familiar with him. “where is the money? where isthe check?”

“james, a piece of note-paper and a receipt stamp!”

“this is all mighty well, sir,” i said, “but i don’t know you; i never saw you before. i will trouble you to hand me that box back again, or give me a check with some known signature.”

“whose? ha, ha, ha!”

the room happened to be very dark. indeed, all the waiters were gone to supper, and there were only two gentlemen snoring in their respective boxes. i saw a hand come quivering down from the ceiling — a very pretty hand, on which was a ring with a coronet, with a lion rampant gules for a crest. i saw that hand take a dip of ink and write across the paper. mr. pinto, then, taking a gray receipt-stamp out of his blue leather pocket-book, fastened it on to the paper by the usual process; and the hand then wrote across the receipt-stamp,went across the table and shook hands with pinto, and then, as if waving him an adieu, vanished in the direction of the ceiling.

there was the paper before me, wet with the ink. there was the pen which the hand had used. does anybody doubt me? i have that pen now. a cedar-stick of a not uncommon sort, and holding one of gillott’s pens. it is in my inkstand now, i tell you. anybody may see it. the handwriting on the check, for such the document was, was the writing of a female. it ran thus:—“london, midnight, march 31, 1862. pay the bearer one thousand and fitty pounds. rachel sidonia. to messrs. sidonia, pozzosanto and co., london.”

“noblest and best of women!” said pinto, kissing the sheet of paper with much reverence. “my good mr. roundabout, i suppose you do not question that signature?”

indeed, the house of sidonia, pozzosanto and co., is known to be one of the richest in europe, and as for the countess rachel, she was known to be the chief manager of that enormously wealthy establishment. there was only one little difficulty, the countess rachel died last october.
  • Current Music
    i / think i saw you in the shadows / i / move in closer beneath your windows
everybody's tired of something

(no subject)

"any person with any imagination is bound to be afraid," said burne earnestly. "and this very walking at night is one of the things i was afraid about. i'm going to tell you why i can walk anywhere now and not be afraid."

"go on," amory urged eagerly. they were striding toward the woods, burne's nervous, enthusiastic voice warming to his subject.

"i used to come out here alone at night, oh, three months ago, and i always stopped at that cross-road we just passed. there were the woods looming up ahead, just as they do now, there were dogs howling and the shadows and no human sound. of course, i peopled the woods with everything ghastly, just like you do; don't you?"

"i do," amory admitted.

"well, i began analyzing it--my imagination persisted in sticking horrors into the dark--so i stuck my imagination into the dark instead, and let it look out at me--i let it play stray dog or escaped convict or ghost, and then saw myself coming along the road. that made it all right--as it always makes everything all right to project yourself completely into another's place. i knew that if i were the dog or the convict or the ghost i wouldn't be a menace to burne holiday any more than he was a menace to me. then i thought of my watch. i'd better go back and leave it and then essay the woods. no; i decided, it's better on the whole that i should lose a watch than that i should turn back--and i did go into them--not only followed the road through them, but walked into them until i wasn't frightened any more--did it until one night i sat down and dozed off in there; then i knew i was through being afraid of the dark."
  • Current Music
    in the forest / there's a monster
the light goes out

(no subject)

i had exhausted the possibilities of interest in the old gothic
church, and felt all that a man should feel in deciphering the mural
tombstones of the families who were exiled for their faith in the
days of the reformation. the throngs of merry hebrews from vienna and
buda-pesth, amazingly arrayed as mountaineers and milk-maids, walking
up and down the narrow streets under umbrellas, had cleopatra's charm
of an infinite variety; but custom staled it. the woodland paths,
winding everywhere through the plantations of fir-trees and provided
with appropriate names on wooden labels, and benches for rest and
conversation at discreet intervals, were too moist for even the
nymphs to take delight in them. the only creatures that suffered
nothing by the rain were the two swift, limpid trauns, racing through
the woods, like eager and unabashed lovers, to meet in the middle of
the village. they were as clear, as joyous, as musical as if the sun
were shining. the very sight of their opalescent rapids and eddying
pools was an invitation to that gentle sport which is said to have
the merit of growing better as the weather grows worse.

  • Current Music
    i'm feeling strange, i need a change