September 2, 2025 • 17 mins
Discover the enchanting world of Day And Night Stories, featuring fifteen captivating short tales by Algernon Henry Blackwood, CBE (1869 ‚ì 1951). Renowned as one of the most prolific ghost story writers, Blackwoods work blends the supernatural with the ethereal, inviting readers into a realm of wonder and intrigue. A journalist and broadcasting narrator, he has been acclaimed for his consistently exceptional storytelling, with literary critic S. T. Joshi noting that his contributions stand among the finest in the genre. Immerse yourself in these timeless narratives that explore the mysteries of life and the unknown.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Story nine of Day and Night Stories by Algernon Blackwood.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Story nine
an Egyptian hornet. The word has an angry, malignant sound
that brings the idea of attack vividly into the mind.
There is a vicious sting about it somewhere. Even a foreigner,
(00:23):
ignorant of the meaning, must feel it. A hornet is wicked.
It darts and stabs, It pierces, aiming without provocation for
the face and eyes. The name suggests a metallic droning
of evil wings, fierce flight, and poisonous assault. Though black
and yellow, it sounds scarlet. There is blood in it,
(00:45):
a striped tiger of the air in concentrated form. There
is no escape if it attacks in Egypt. An ordinary
bee is the size of an English hornet, but the
Egyptian hornet is enormous. It is truly monstrous, an ominous,
dying terror. It shares that universal quality of the land
(01:08):
of the sphinx and pyramids. Great size. It is a
formidable insect, worse than scorpion or tarantula. The Reverend James Milligan,
meeting one for the first time, realized the meaning of
another word as well, a word he used prolifically in
his eloquent sermons Devil. One morning in April, when the
(01:30):
heat began to bring the insects out, he rose as
usual betimes and went across the wide stone corridor to
his bath. The desert already glared in through the open windows.
The heat would be afflicting later in the day, but
at this early hour the cool north wind blew pleasantly
down the hotel passages. It was Sunday, and at half
(01:51):
past eight o'clock he would appear to conduct the morning
service for the English visitors. The floor of the passageway
was cold beneath him, his feet in their thin native
slippers of bright yellow. He was neither young nor old.
His salary was comfortable. He had a competency of his own,
without wife or children to absorb it. The dry climate
(02:14):
had been recommended to him, and the big hotel took
him in for next to nothing, and he was thoroughly
pleased with himself, for he was a sleek, vain, pompous,
well advertised personality, but mean as a rat. No worries
of any kind were in his mind. As carrying sponge
(02:34):
and towel scented soap and a bottle of scrubs ammonia.
He traveled amiably across the deserted shining corridor to the bathroom,
and nothing went wrong with the Reverend James Milligan until
he opened the door and his eye fell upon a dark,
suspicious looking object clinging to the window pane in front
(02:55):
of him. And even then, at first he felt no
anxiety or altar, but merely a natural curiosity to know
exactly what it was, this little clot of an odd shaped,
elongated thing that stuck there on the wooden framework, six
feet before his aquiline nose. He went straight up to
it to see, then stopped dead. His heart gave a distinct,
(03:19):
unclerical leap, his lips formed themselves into unregenerate shape. He gasped,
Good God, what is it for? Something unholy, something wicked
as a secret sin, stuck there before his eyes in
the patch of blazing sunshine. He caught his breath. For
(03:40):
a moment he was unable to move, as though the
sight half fascinated him. Then, cautiously and very slowly, stealthily,
in fact, he withdrew towards the door he had just entered,
fearful of making the smallest sound, he retraced his steps
on tiptoe. His yellow slippers shuffled, his dry sponge, fell
(04:01):
and bounded till it settled. Rolling close beneath the horribly
attractive object facing him from the safety of the open door,
with ample space for retreat behind him, he paused and stared,
his entire being focused itself in his eyes. It was
a hornet that he saw. It hung there, motionless and threatening,
(04:24):
between him and the bathroom door, and at first he
merely exclaimed below his breath, good Lord, it's an Egyptian hornet.
Being a man with a reputation for decided action, however,
he soon recovered himself. He was well schooled in self control.
When people left his church. At the beginning of the sermon,
(04:46):
no muscle of his face betrayed the wounded vanity and
annoyance that burned deep in his heart. But a hornet
sitting directly in his path was a very different matter.
He realized in a flash that he was poorly clothed,
in a word, that he was practically half naked. From
a distance, he examined this intrusion of the devil. It
(05:08):
was calm and very still. It was wonderfully made both
before and behind. Its wings were folded upon its terrible body,
long sinuous things pointed like temptation, barbed as well stuck
out of it. There was poison and yet grace in
its exquisite presentment. Its shiny black was beautiful, and the
(05:31):
yellow stripes upon its sleek, curved abdomen were like the
gleaming ornaments upon some feminine body of the seductive world
he preached against. Almost he saw an abandoned dancer on
the stage, and then swiftly in his impressionable soul, the
similar changed, and he saw instead more blunt and aggressive
(05:53):
forms of destruction. The well filled body tapering to a
horrid point, reminded him of those perfect engines of death
that reduce hundreds to annihilation unawares, torpedoes, shells, projectiles crammed
with secret desolating powers, Its wings, its awful quiet head,
(06:14):
its delicate slim waist, its stripes of brilliant saffron. All
these seemed the concentrated prototype of abominations, made cleverly by
the brain of man, and beautifully painted to disguise their
invisible freight of cruel death. Bah he exclaimed, ashamed of
his prolific imagination. It's only a hornet, after all, an insect,
(06:39):
and he contrived a hurried, careful plan. He aimed a
towel at it rolled up into a ball, but did
not throw it. He might miss. He remembered that his
ankles were unprotected. Instead, he paused again, examining the black
and yellow object in safe retirement near the door, as
(06:59):
one day he hoped to watch the world in leisurely
retirement in the country. It did not move. It was
fixed and terrible. It made no sound. Its wings were folded.
Not even the black antennae, blunt at the tips like clubs,
showed the least stir or tremble. It breathed. However, he
(07:22):
watched the rise and fall of the evil body. It
breathed air in and out, as he himself did. The creature,
he realized, had lungs and heart and organs. It had
a brain. Its mind was active all this time. It
knew it was being watched. It merely waited. Any second,
(07:43):
with a whiz of fury, and with perfect accuracy of aim,
it might dart at him and strike. If he threw
the towel and missed, it certainly would. There were other
occupants of the corridor, however, and a sound of steps
approaching gave him the decision to act. He would lose
his bath if he hesitated much longer. He felt ashamed
(08:06):
of his timidity. Though poosillanimity was the word thought selected
owing to the pulpit vocabulary, it was his habit to prefer.
He went with extreme caution towards the bathroom door, passing
the point of danger, so close that his skin turned
hot and cold. With one foot gingerly extended, he recovered
(08:28):
his sponge. The hornet did not move a muscle, but
it had seen him pass. It merely waited. All dangerous
insects had that trick. It knew quite well he was inside.
It knew quite well he must come out a few
minutes later. It also knew quite well that he was naked.
(08:50):
Once inside the little room, he closed the door with
exceeding gentleness, lest the vibration might stir the fearful insect
to attack. The bath was already filled, and he plunged
to his neck with a feeling of comparative security. A
window into the outside passage he also closed, so that
nothing could possibly come in, and steam soon charged the
(09:13):
air and left its blurred deposit on the glass. For
ten minutes, he could enjoy himself and pretend that he
was safe. For ten minutes, he did so. He behaved carelessly,
as though nothing mattered, and as though all the courage
in the world were his. He splashed and soaped and sponged,
making a lot of reckless noise. He got out and
(09:35):
dried himself. Slowly, the steam subsided, the air grew clearer.
He put on dressing gown and slippers, and it was
time to go out. Unable to devise any further reason
for delay, he opened the door softly half an inch,
peeped out, and instantly closed it again with a resounding bang.
(09:56):
He had heard a drone of wings. The insect had
left its perch and now buzzed upon the floor directly
in his path. The air seemed full of stings. He
felt stabs all over him. His unprotected portions winced with
the expectancy of pain. The beast knew he was coming
out and was waiting for him. In that brief instant,
(10:19):
he had felt its sting all over him, on his
unprotected ankles, on his back, his neck, his cheeks, in
his eyes and on the bald clearing that adorned his
Anglican head. Through the closed door, he heard the ominous,
dull murmur of his striped adversary as it beat its
angry wings, its oiled and wicked sting, shot in and
(10:42):
out with fury, its deft legs worked. He saw its
tiny waist already writhing with the lust of battle. Ah,
that tiny waist a moment's steady nerve, and he could
have severed that cunning body from the directing brain with
one swift while directed thrust. But his nerve had utterly
(11:03):
deserted him. Human motives even in the professedly holy are
an involved affair at any time, just now in the
Reverend James Milligan, they were quite inextricably mixed. He claims
this explanation at any rate in excuse of his abominable
subsequent behavior, For exactly at this moment, when he had
(11:25):
decided to admit cowardice by ringing for the Arab servant,
a step was audible in the corridor outside, and courage
came with it into his disreputable heart. It was the
step of the man he cordially disapproved of using the
pulpit version of hated and despised. He had overstayed his time,
(11:46):
and the bath was in demand by mister Mullins. Mister
Mullins invariably followed him at seven thirty. It was now
a quarter to eight, and mister Mullins was a wretched,
drinking man, a soft. In a flash, the plan was
conceived and put into execution. The temptation, of course, was
of the devil. Mister Milligan hid the motive from himself,
(12:10):
pretending he hardly recognized it. The plan was what men
call a dirty trick, it was also irresistibly seductive. He
opened the door, stepped boldly, nose in the air, right
over the hideous insect on the floor, and fairly pranced
into the outer passage. The brief transit brought a hundred
(12:30):
horrible sensations, that the hornet would rise and sting his leg,
that it would cling to his dressing gown and stab
his spine, that he would step upon it and die
like Achilles of a heel exposed. But with these and
conquering them, was one other stronger emotion that robbed the
lesser terrors of their potency. That mister Mullins would run
(12:53):
precisely the same risks five seconds later. Unprepared, he heard
the gloating insect buzz and scratched the oilcloth, but it
was behind him. He was safe. Good morning to you,
mister Mullins, he observed, with a gracious smile. I trust
I have not kept you waiting. Mornon grunted Mullins sourly
(13:14):
in reply, as he passed him, with a distinctly hostile
and contemptuous air. For Mullins, though depraved, was perhaps an
honest man, abhorring parsons and making no secret of his opinions.
Whence the bitter feeling. All men, except those very big
ones who are supermen, have something astonishingly despicable in them.
(13:38):
The despicable thing in Milligan came uppermost. Now he fairly chuckled.
He met the snub with a calm, forgiving smile, and
continued his shambling gait with what dignity he could, towards
his bedroom opposite. Then he turned his head to see
his enemy. Would meet an infuriated hornet, an Egyptian hornet,
(14:00):
and might not notice it. He might step on it,
he might not, but he was bound to disturb it
and rouse it to attack the chances were enormously on
the clerical side, and its sting meant death. May God
forgive me ran subconsciously through his mind, and side by
(14:20):
side with the repentant prayer ran also a recognition of
the tempter's eternal skill. I hope the devil it will
sting him. It happened very quickly. The Reverend James Milligan
lingered a moment by his door to watch. He saw Mullins,
the disgusting Mullins, step blithely into the bathroom passage. He
(14:41):
saw him pause, shrink back, and raise his arm to
protect his face. He heard him swear out loud, what's
the damn thing doing here? Have I really got him again?
And then he heard him laugh, a hearty, goofawing laugh
of genuine relief. It's real. The moment of revulsion was overwhelming.
(15:03):
It filled the churchly heart with anguish and bitter disappointment.
For a space, he hated the whole race of men.
For the instant mister Mullins realized that the insect was
not a fiery illusion of his disordered nerves. He went
forward without the smallest hesitation. With his towel, he knocked
(15:23):
down the flying terror then he stooped. He gathered up
the venomous thing his well aimed blow had stricken so
easily to the floor. He advanced, with it held at
arm's length, to the window. He tossed it out carelessly.
The Egyptian hornet flew away uninjured, and mister Mullins, the
(15:44):
mister Mullins, who drank, gave nothing to the church, attended
no services, hated parsons, and proclaimed the fact with enthusiasm.
This same detestable mister Mullins went to his unearned bath
without a scratch, But for first he saw his enemy
standing in the doorway across the passage watching him, and
(16:06):
understood that was the awful part of it. Mullins would
make a story of it, and the story would go
the round of the hotel. The Reverend James Milligan, however,
proved that his reputation for self control was not undeserved.
He conducted morning service half an hour later with an
expression of peace upon his handsome face. He conquered all
(16:29):
outward sign of inward spiritual vexation. The wicked, he consoled
himself ever flourish like green bay trees. It was notorious
that the righteous never have any luck at all. That
was bad enough. But what was worse, and the Reverend
James Milligan remembered for very long, was the superior ease
(16:51):
with which Mullins had relegated both himself and hornet to
the same level of comparative insignificance. Mullins ignored them both,
which proved that he felt himself superior, infinitely worse than
the sting of any hornet in the world. He really
was superior. End of story nine.
Story nine of Day and Night Stories by Algernon Blackwood.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Story nine
an Egyptian hornet. The word has an angry, malignant sound
that brings the idea of attack vividly into the mind.
There is a vicious sting about it somewhere. Even a foreigner,
(00:23):
ignorant of the meaning, must feel it. A hornet is wicked.
It darts and stabs, It pierces, aiming without provocation for
the face and eyes. The name suggests a metallic droning
of evil wings, fierce flight, and poisonous assault. Though black
and yellow, it sounds scarlet. There is blood in it,
(00:45):
a striped tiger of the air in concentrated form. There
is no escape if it attacks in Egypt. An ordinary
bee is the size of an English hornet, but the
Egyptian hornet is enormous. It is truly monstrous, an ominous,
dying terror. It shares that universal quality of the land
(01:08):
of the sphinx and pyramids. Great size. It is a
formidable insect, worse than scorpion or tarantula. The Reverend James Milligan,
meeting one for the first time, realized the meaning of
another word as well, a word he used prolifically in
his eloquent sermons Devil. One morning in April, when the
(01:30):
heat began to bring the insects out, he rose as
usual betimes and went across the wide stone corridor to
his bath. The desert already glared in through the open windows.
The heat would be afflicting later in the day, but
at this early hour the cool north wind blew pleasantly
down the hotel passages. It was Sunday, and at half
(01:51):
past eight o'clock he would appear to conduct the morning
service for the English visitors. The floor of the passageway
was cold beneath him, his feet in their thin native
slippers of bright yellow. He was neither young nor old.
His salary was comfortable. He had a competency of his own,
without wife or children to absorb it. The dry climate
(02:14):
had been recommended to him, and the big hotel took
him in for next to nothing, and he was thoroughly
pleased with himself, for he was a sleek, vain, pompous,
well advertised personality, but mean as a rat. No worries
of any kind were in his mind. As carrying sponge
(02:34):
and towel scented soap and a bottle of scrubs ammonia.
He traveled amiably across the deserted shining corridor to the bathroom,
and nothing went wrong with the Reverend James Milligan until
he opened the door and his eye fell upon a dark,
suspicious looking object clinging to the window pane in front
(02:55):
of him. And even then, at first he felt no
anxiety or altar, but merely a natural curiosity to know
exactly what it was, this little clot of an odd shaped,
elongated thing that stuck there on the wooden framework, six
feet before his aquiline nose. He went straight up to
it to see, then stopped dead. His heart gave a distinct,
(03:19):
unclerical leap, his lips formed themselves into unregenerate shape. He gasped,
Good God, what is it for? Something unholy, something wicked
as a secret sin, stuck there before his eyes in
the patch of blazing sunshine. He caught his breath. For
(03:40):
a moment he was unable to move, as though the
sight half fascinated him. Then, cautiously and very slowly, stealthily,
in fact, he withdrew towards the door he had just entered,
fearful of making the smallest sound, he retraced his steps
on tiptoe. His yellow slippers shuffled, his dry sponge, fell
(04:01):
and bounded till it settled. Rolling close beneath the horribly
attractive object facing him from the safety of the open door,
with ample space for retreat behind him, he paused and stared,
his entire being focused itself in his eyes. It was
a hornet that he saw. It hung there, motionless and threatening,
(04:24):
between him and the bathroom door, and at first he
merely exclaimed below his breath, good Lord, it's an Egyptian hornet.
Being a man with a reputation for decided action, however,
he soon recovered himself. He was well schooled in self control.
When people left his church. At the beginning of the sermon,
(04:46):
no muscle of his face betrayed the wounded vanity and
annoyance that burned deep in his heart. But a hornet
sitting directly in his path was a very different matter.
He realized in a flash that he was poorly clothed,
in a word, that he was practically half naked. From
a distance, he examined this intrusion of the devil. It
(05:08):
was calm and very still. It was wonderfully made both
before and behind. Its wings were folded upon its terrible body,
long sinuous things pointed like temptation, barbed as well stuck
out of it. There was poison and yet grace in
its exquisite presentment. Its shiny black was beautiful, and the
(05:31):
yellow stripes upon its sleek, curved abdomen were like the
gleaming ornaments upon some feminine body of the seductive world
he preached against. Almost he saw an abandoned dancer on
the stage, and then swiftly in his impressionable soul, the
similar changed, and he saw instead more blunt and aggressive
(05:53):
forms of destruction. The well filled body tapering to a
horrid point, reminded him of those perfect engines of death
that reduce hundreds to annihilation unawares, torpedoes, shells, projectiles crammed
with secret desolating powers, Its wings, its awful quiet head,
(06:14):
its delicate slim waist, its stripes of brilliant saffron. All
these seemed the concentrated prototype of abominations, made cleverly by
the brain of man, and beautifully painted to disguise their
invisible freight of cruel death. Bah he exclaimed, ashamed of
his prolific imagination. It's only a hornet, after all, an insect,
(06:39):
and he contrived a hurried, careful plan. He aimed a
towel at it rolled up into a ball, but did
not throw it. He might miss. He remembered that his
ankles were unprotected. Instead, he paused again, examining the black
and yellow object in safe retirement near the door, as
(06:59):
one day he hoped to watch the world in leisurely
retirement in the country. It did not move. It was
fixed and terrible. It made no sound. Its wings were folded.
Not even the black antennae, blunt at the tips like clubs,
showed the least stir or tremble. It breathed. However, he
(07:22):
watched the rise and fall of the evil body. It
breathed air in and out, as he himself did. The creature,
he realized, had lungs and heart and organs. It had
a brain. Its mind was active all this time. It
knew it was being watched. It merely waited. Any second,
(07:43):
with a whiz of fury, and with perfect accuracy of aim,
it might dart at him and strike. If he threw
the towel and missed, it certainly would. There were other
occupants of the corridor, however, and a sound of steps
approaching gave him the decision to act. He would lose
his bath if he hesitated much longer. He felt ashamed
(08:06):
of his timidity. Though poosillanimity was the word thought selected
owing to the pulpit vocabulary, it was his habit to prefer.
He went with extreme caution towards the bathroom door, passing
the point of danger, so close that his skin turned
hot and cold. With one foot gingerly extended, he recovered
(08:28):
his sponge. The hornet did not move a muscle, but
it had seen him pass. It merely waited. All dangerous
insects had that trick. It knew quite well he was inside.
It knew quite well he must come out a few
minutes later. It also knew quite well that he was naked.
(08:50):
Once inside the little room, he closed the door with
exceeding gentleness, lest the vibration might stir the fearful insect
to attack. The bath was already filled, and he plunged
to his neck with a feeling of comparative security. A
window into the outside passage he also closed, so that
nothing could possibly come in, and steam soon charged the
(09:13):
air and left its blurred deposit on the glass. For
ten minutes, he could enjoy himself and pretend that he
was safe. For ten minutes, he did so. He behaved carelessly,
as though nothing mattered, and as though all the courage
in the world were his. He splashed and soaped and sponged,
making a lot of reckless noise. He got out and
(09:35):
dried himself. Slowly, the steam subsided, the air grew clearer.
He put on dressing gown and slippers, and it was
time to go out. Unable to devise any further reason
for delay, he opened the door softly half an inch,
peeped out, and instantly closed it again with a resounding bang.
(09:56):
He had heard a drone of wings. The insect had
left its perch and now buzzed upon the floor directly
in his path. The air seemed full of stings. He
felt stabs all over him. His unprotected portions winced with
the expectancy of pain. The beast knew he was coming
out and was waiting for him. In that brief instant,
(10:19):
he had felt its sting all over him, on his
unprotected ankles, on his back, his neck, his cheeks, in
his eyes and on the bald clearing that adorned his
Anglican head. Through the closed door, he heard the ominous,
dull murmur of his striped adversary as it beat its
angry wings, its oiled and wicked sting, shot in and
(10:42):
out with fury, its deft legs worked. He saw its
tiny waist already writhing with the lust of battle. Ah,
that tiny waist a moment's steady nerve, and he could
have severed that cunning body from the directing brain with
one swift while directed thrust. But his nerve had utterly
(11:03):
deserted him. Human motives even in the professedly holy are
an involved affair at any time, just now in the
Reverend James Milligan, they were quite inextricably mixed. He claims
this explanation at any rate in excuse of his abominable
subsequent behavior, For exactly at this moment, when he had
(11:25):
decided to admit cowardice by ringing for the Arab servant,
a step was audible in the corridor outside, and courage
came with it into his disreputable heart. It was the
step of the man he cordially disapproved of using the
pulpit version of hated and despised. He had overstayed his time,
(11:46):
and the bath was in demand by mister Mullins. Mister
Mullins invariably followed him at seven thirty. It was now
a quarter to eight, and mister Mullins was a wretched,
drinking man, a soft. In a flash, the plan was
conceived and put into execution. The temptation, of course, was
of the devil. Mister Milligan hid the motive from himself,
(12:10):
pretending he hardly recognized it. The plan was what men
call a dirty trick, it was also irresistibly seductive. He
opened the door, stepped boldly, nose in the air, right
over the hideous insect on the floor, and fairly pranced
into the outer passage. The brief transit brought a hundred
(12:30):
horrible sensations, that the hornet would rise and sting his leg,
that it would cling to his dressing gown and stab
his spine, that he would step upon it and die
like Achilles of a heel exposed. But with these and
conquering them, was one other stronger emotion that robbed the
lesser terrors of their potency. That mister Mullins would run
(12:53):
precisely the same risks five seconds later. Unprepared, he heard
the gloating insect buzz and scratched the oilcloth, but it
was behind him. He was safe. Good morning to you,
mister Mullins, he observed, with a gracious smile. I trust
I have not kept you waiting. Mornon grunted Mullins sourly
(13:14):
in reply, as he passed him, with a distinctly hostile
and contemptuous air. For Mullins, though depraved, was perhaps an
honest man, abhorring parsons and making no secret of his opinions.
Whence the bitter feeling. All men, except those very big
ones who are supermen, have something astonishingly despicable in them.
(13:38):
The despicable thing in Milligan came uppermost. Now he fairly chuckled.
He met the snub with a calm, forgiving smile, and
continued his shambling gait with what dignity he could, towards
his bedroom opposite. Then he turned his head to see
his enemy. Would meet an infuriated hornet, an Egyptian hornet,
(14:00):
and might not notice it. He might step on it,
he might not, but he was bound to disturb it
and rouse it to attack the chances were enormously on
the clerical side, and its sting meant death. May God
forgive me ran subconsciously through his mind, and side by
(14:20):
side with the repentant prayer ran also a recognition of
the tempter's eternal skill. I hope the devil it will
sting him. It happened very quickly. The Reverend James Milligan
lingered a moment by his door to watch. He saw Mullins,
the disgusting Mullins, step blithely into the bathroom passage. He
(14:41):
saw him pause, shrink back, and raise his arm to
protect his face. He heard him swear out loud, what's
the damn thing doing here? Have I really got him again?
And then he heard him laugh, a hearty, goofawing laugh
of genuine relief. It's real. The moment of revulsion was overwhelming.
(15:03):
It filled the churchly heart with anguish and bitter disappointment.
For a space, he hated the whole race of men.
For the instant mister Mullins realized that the insect was
not a fiery illusion of his disordered nerves. He went
forward without the smallest hesitation. With his towel, he knocked
(15:23):
down the flying terror then he stooped. He gathered up
the venomous thing his well aimed blow had stricken so
easily to the floor. He advanced, with it held at
arm's length, to the window. He tossed it out carelessly.
The Egyptian hornet flew away uninjured, and mister Mullins, the
(15:44):
mister Mullins, who drank, gave nothing to the church, attended
no services, hated parsons, and proclaimed the fact with enthusiasm.
This same detestable mister Mullins went to his unearned bath
without a scratch, But for first he saw his enemy
standing in the doorway across the passage watching him, and
(16:06):
understood that was the awful part of it. Mullins would
make a story of it, and the story would go
the round of the hotel. The Reverend James Milligan, however,
proved that his reputation for self control was not undeserved.
He conducted morning service half an hour later with an
expression of peace upon his handsome face. He conquered all
(16:29):
outward sign of inward spiritual vexation. The wicked, he consoled
himself ever flourish like green bay trees. It was notorious
that the righteous never have any luck at all. That
was bad enough. But what was worse, and the Reverend
James Milligan remembered for very long, was the superior ease
(16:51):
with which Mullins had relegated both himself and hornet to
the same level of comparative insignificance. Mullins ignored them both,
which proved that he felt himself superior, infinitely worse than
the sting of any hornet in the world. He really
was superior. End of story nine.
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If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com
The Herd with Colin Cowherd
The Herd with Colin Cowherd is a thought-provoking, opinionated, and topic-driven journey through the top sports stories of the day.