August 19, 2025 • 29 mins
Horror is perhaps best dictated to the senses – to the animal rather than the intellectual faculties. Amelia B. Edwards shoots for both in this cerebral but visceral tale by cushioning a quaint, fireside chat with a scholar of the natural and supernatural between two lonely, agonizing experiences of fear.
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Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
The circumstances I'm about to relate to you have truth
to recommend them. They happened to myself, and my recollection
of them is as vivid as if they had taken
place only yesterday. Twenty years, however, have gone by since
that night, and during those twenty years I've told the
story to but one other person. I tell it now
with reluctance, and a reluctant which I find difficult to overcome.
(00:23):
All I entreat meanwhile, is that you will abstain from
forcing your own conclusions upon me. I want nothing explained away.
I desire no arguments. My mind is made up on
this subject, quite made up, and having the testimony of
my own senses to rely upon, I prefer to abide
by it. Well, it was just twenty years ago, and
(00:44):
within a day or two of the end of the
grouse season, I've been out all day with my gun,
and I had no sport to speak of. The wind
was due east the month of December. The place a
bleak wide more in the far north of England, and
I had lost my way. It was not a pleasant
place in which to louse on's way. With the first
(01:05):
feathery flakes of a coming snow storm just fluttering down
upon the heather, and that led in the evening closing
in all around. I shedded my eyes with my hand
and stared anxiously into the gathering darkness, where the purple
moorland melted into a range of low hills, some ten
or twelve miles distant. Not the faintest smoke wreath, not
(01:27):
the tiniest cultivated patch or fence or sheep track met
my eyes in any direction. There was nothing for it
but to walk on, and to take my chance of
finding what shelter I could by the way. So I
shouldered my gun again and pushed on wearily forward, for
I had been on foot since an hour after daybreak,
and had had nothing to eat since breakfast. Meanwhile, the
(01:50):
snow began to come down with ominous steadiness, and the
wind fell. After this, the cold became more intense, and
the night came rapidly up. As for me, my prospects
darkened with the darkening sky, and my heart grew heavy
as I thought of how my young wife was already
watching for me through the window of our little inn parlor,
and the thought of all the suffering in store for
(02:11):
her throughout this weary night. We had been married for
four months, and, having spent our autumn in the Highlands,
were now lodging in a remote little village situated just
on the verge of the great English Moorlands. We were
very much in love, and of course very happy. This
morning when we parted, she had implored me to return
(02:31):
before dusk, and I'd promise her that I would, or
that I have not given to have kept my word.
Even now, weary as I was, I felt that with
a supper, an hour's rest, a guide, I might still
get back to her before midnight, if only guide and
shelter could be found. And all this time the snow
fell and the night thickened. I stopped and shouted every
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now and again, but my shouts seemed only to make
the silence deeper. Then a vague sense of an easy
came upon me, and I began to remember stories of
travelers who had walked on and on in the falling
snow until wearied out they were fain to lie down
and sleep their lives away. Would it be possible, i
(03:14):
asked myself, to keep on thus through all the long
dark night. Well, there not come a time when my
limbs must fail, and my resolution give way, when I
too must sleep the sleep of death. Death. I shuddered,
How hard to die just now, when all life lay
so bright before me, How hard for my darling and
(03:35):
his whole loving heart. But that thought was not to
be borne. To banish it, I shouted again, louder and longer,
and listened eagerly. Was my shout answered? Or did I
only fancy that I heard a far off cry? I
hallowed again and again, and the echo followed. Then a
wavering speck of light came suddenly out of the dark,
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shifting and disappearing, growing momentarily nearer and brighter. Running towards
it at full speed, I found myself, in my great
joy to be face to face with an old man
and a lantern. And God was the explanation that burst
involuntarily from my lips. Blinking and frowning. He lifted his
lantern and peered into my face. What fur, he growled, sulkily.
(04:19):
Well for you. I began to feel that I should
be lost in the snow. Eh Well, folks will get
cast away from you. If I'm tad to tam, I
are surn to you from being cast away. Likewise, if
the Lord so minded. Well, if the Lord is so mighty,
then you and I shall be cast together. Friend, But
you must admit, I replied, But I don't mean to
be lost without you. How far am I from Dwolding? Ah, good,
(04:40):
twenty mile more alas and the nearest village or nearest
village's wife, and not twelve miles to the other side.
Well where do you live, then, on, yonder, said he,
with a vague jerk of the lantern, And you're going home?
I presume maybe I am. Then I'm going with you.
Your man shook his head and rubbed his nose reflectively
with the handle of the lantern. I know you, goose,
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he growled. You won't let you a nigh. Well we'll
see about that, I replied briskly. And who is he
the master? And who is the master? Or asked not
to the will you? Was the young ceremonious reply. Well, well,
you lead the way, and I shall engage that the
Master shall give me shelter and supper to night. A
ha ha, you can try him, muttered my reluctant guide,
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And still shaking his head, he hobbled homelike away through
the falling snow. A large mass loomed up presently out
of the darkness, and a huge dog rushed out, barking furiously.
Is this the house? I asked, Aye, it's the house, down, boy,
and he fumbled in his pocket for the key. I
drew close up behind him, prepared to lose no chance
of entrance, and saw in the little circle of light
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shed by the lantern that the door was heavily studded
with iron nails, like the door of a prison. In
another minute he had turned the key in the lark,
and I had pushed past him into the house. Once inside,
I looked around with curiosity and found myself in a
great rafted hall which served apparently a variety of uses.
One end was piled to the roof with corn like
(06:06):
a barn. The other was stored flower sacks, agricultural instruments, casks,
and all kinds of miscellaneous lumber, while from the beams
overhead hung rows of hams, flitches, and bunches of dried
herbs for winter use. In the center of the floor
stood some huge object, gauntly dressed in a dingy wrapping
cloth and reaching half way to the rafters. Left in
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the corner of this cloth, I saw to my surprise,
a telescope of very considerable size, mounted on a rude
moving platform. Four small wheels adorned its edges, and the
tube was made of painted wood, bound round with bands
of metal rudely fashioned a speculum. So far as I
could estimated size in the dim light, was measured at
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least fifteen inches in diameter. And while I was yet
examining the instrument and asking myself whether or not it
was the work of some self talked optician, a bell
rang sharply as for you, said my guide, with a
malicious grin. Yander's isram. He pointed to a low black
door at the opposite side of the hall, and I
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crossed over, wrapped somewhat loudly, and went in. I didn't
wait for an invitation. A huge, white haired old man
rose from the table covered with books and papers and
confronted me sternly. Who are you? He said? He, how
did you come here? What do you want? James Murray
Barrister at low on foot across the moor, meet drink
and sleep. He bent his bushy brows into a pretentious frown.
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Mine is not a house of entertainment, he said, haughtily, Jacob,
how dared you admit this stranger? I dinner, madame, grumbled
the old man. He followed me o the moor and
shouldered his way in before me, I'm no match for
six foot two, And pray, sir, by what right have
you forced entrance into my house by the same which
I should have clung to your boat if I were drowning?
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The right of self preservation? Self preservation. There's an inch
of snow on the ground already, I replied briefly, and
it would be deep enough to cover my body before daybreak.
He strove to the window, pulled aside a heavy black curtain,
and looked out. Hum, it is true, he said, you
can stay if you choose, till morning. Jacob served the supper,
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and with this he waved me to a seat, resumed
his own, and became at once absorbed into the studies
from which I had disturbed him. I placed my gun
in the corner, drew a chair to the hearth, and
examined my quarters at leisure. Smaller and less incongruous than
its arrangements in the hall, this room contained, nevertheless, much
to awaken my curiosity. The floor was carpetless, the whitewashed walls,
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who were in parts scrawled over with strange diagrams, and
others covered with shells, crowded with philosophical instruments, the uses
of which were totally unknown to me. On one side
of the fireplace stood a bookcase filled with dingy folios,
on the other a small organ fantastically decorated with painted
carvings of medieval saints and devils. Through the half open
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door of a cupboard at the further entered the room,
I saw a long array of geological specimens, surgical preparations
and crucibles, retorts, and jars of chemicals, while on the
mantel shelf beside me, amid a number of smaller objects,
stood a model of the solar system, a small galvanic battery,
and a microscope. Every chair had its burden, every corner
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was heaped high with books, and the very floor was
littered over with maps, casts, papers, tracings, and the learned
lumber of all conceivable kinds. I stared about me with
an amazement, increased by every fresh object upon which my
eyes chanced to rest. So strange a room I have
never seen, yet, it seemed strangeer till to find such
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a room in a lone farmhouse, amid these wild and
solitary moors. Over and over again, I looked from my
host to his surroundings, and from his surroundings back to
my host, asking myself who and what could he be.
His head was singularly fine, but it was more the
head of a poet than a philosopher, broad in the temples,
prominent over the eyes, and clothed with a rough profusion
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of perfectly white hair. It had all the ideality and
much of the ruggedness which characterizes the head of Louis
van Beethoven. There were some deep lines about the mouth,
and the same stern furrows in the brow. There was
the same concentration of expression. And while I was yet
observing him, the door opened and Jacob brought in the supper.
His master then closed the book rose, and with more
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or less a courtesy of manner than he had yet shown,
showed me to the table. A dish of ham and eggs,
a loaf of brown bread, and a bottle of a
mirable sherry were placed before me. I have but the
homeliest farmhouse fair to offer you, sir, said my entertainer.
Your appetite, I trust will make up for the deficiencies
of ar Lada. I had already fallen upon thee Viannes,
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and now protested with all the enthusiasm of starving sportsmen
that I had never eaten anything so so delicious. He
bowed stiffly and sat down to his own supper, which
consisted primitively of a jug of milk and a basin
of porridge. We yet in silence, and when we had done,
Jacob's removed the tray and then drew my chair back
to the fireside. My host, somewhat to my surprise, did
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the same, and, turning abruptly towards me, said, sir, I
have lived here in strict retirement for three and twenty
years that during that time I have not seen many
strange faces, and I have not read a single newspaper.
You were the first stranger who's crossed my threshold for
more than four years. Will you do me a favor
with a few words of information respecting the outer world
from which I have parted company? So long pray interrogate me,
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I replied, I am heartily at your service. He bent
his head and acknowledgment, leaned forward, with his elbows resting
on his knees and his chin supported on the palms
of his hands. He steed fixedly into the fire and
proceeded to question me. His inquiries were related chiefly to
scientific matters, with the latter progress of which is applied
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to the practical purposes of life. He was almost wholly unacquainted.
No student of science myself, I replied as well, of
my slight information permitted, But the task was far from easy,
and I was much relieved when passing from interrogation to discussion,
he began pouring forth his own conclusions upon the facts
which I had been attempting to place before him. He talked,
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and I listened, spellbound. He talked till I believe he
almost forgot my presence and thought aloud, I had never
heard anything like it. Then, I have never heard anything
like it since. Familiar with all systems of all philosophies,
subtle in analysis, bold in generalization, he poured forth his
thoughts in uninterrupted streams, and, still leaning forward in the
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same moody attitude, with his eyes fixed upon the fire,
wandered from topic to topic, from speculation to speculation, like
an inspired dreamer, from practical science to mental philosophy. From
electricity in the wire to electricity in the nerve, from
what to Mesmer, from Mesmer to Reichenbach, from Reichenbach to Swedenborg.
For Spinosa, Condilac, de Caha, Barclay, Aristotle, Plato, and the
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magi and the mystics of the East were transitions which,
however bewildering in their variety in scope, seemed easy and
harmonious upon his lips, as the sequences of music by
and Bye I forgot what link of conjecture or illustration
he passed onto the field which lies beyond the boundary
of even conjectural philosophy, and reaches into areas no man
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knows whither. He spoke of the soul and its aspirations,
of the spirit and its powers of second sight, a
prophecy of those phenomena which, under the names of ghost
specters and supernatural appearances, have all been denied by the
skeptics and attested by the credulous of all ages. The
world he said, gils only more and more skeptical of
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all that lies beyond its narrow radius, and men of
science foster the fatal tendency. They condemn us feeble all
that resists experiment. They reject us false all that cannot
be brought to the test of the laboratory or the
dissecting room against What superstition have they waged so long
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and obstinate a war as against the belief and apparitions?
And yet what superstition has maintained its hold upon the
minds of men so long and so firmly. Show me
any fact in physics, in history, and archaeology which is
supported by testimonies so wide and so various, attested to
by all races of men, all ages, and in all climates,
by the soberist sages, in antiquity, by the rudis savage
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of today, by the Christian, the pagan, the pantheist, the materialists.
This phenomenon is treated as a nursery tale by philosophers
of our century. Circumstantial evidence weighs with them as a
feather in the balance, and the comparison of causes with effects,
however valuable in physical science, is put aside as worthless
an uns reliable. The evidence of the competant witness, however
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conclusive in a court of justice, counts for nothing. He
who pauses before he pronounces is condemned as a trifler
he believes is a dreamer or a fool who spoke
with bitterness, and having said thus, relapsed for some minutes
into silence. Presently, he raised his head from his hands
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and added, with an altered voice and manner, ay sir paused, investigated, relieved,
and was not ashamed to state my convictions for the world.
I too was branded as a visionary, held up as
a ridicule for my contemporaries, and hooted from that field
of science in which I had labored with honor during
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the best years of my life. These things happened just
three and twenty years ago. Since then, I have lived
as you see me living now, and the world has
forgotten me as I have forgotten the world. You have
my history. It's a very sad one, I murmured, scarcely
knowing what to answer. It's a very common one, he replied.
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I have only suffered from the truth, as many a
better and wiser man has suffered before me. He rose,
as if desirous of ending the conversation, and went over
to the window. It ceased snowing, he observed as he
dropped the curtain and came back to the fireside. Ceased,
I exclaimed, starting eagerly on my viek oh, if it
were only possible, But no, it is hopeless, And even
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if I could find my way across the moor, I
could not walk twenty miles to night, walk twenty miles
to night, repeated my host. What are you thinking of
of my wife? I replied, impatiently, of my young wife,
who does not know that I have lost my way,
and is at this moment breaking her heart with suspense
and terror. Where is she a dwolding twenty miles away? Dwolding,
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he echoed thoughtfully. Yes, the distance is true, he is
about twenty miles. But whom so very anxious to see
the next six or eight hours, so very very anxious
that I would give ten guineas for this moment, and
a guide and a horse. Your wish can be gratified
at a less costly rate, said he smiling. The nightmail
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from the North, which changes horses at Dwelding, passes within
five miles at this spot, and will be due at
a certain crossroads in about an hour and a quarter.
If Jacob were to go with you across the moor
and put you in the old coach road, you'd finde
you aware, I suppose to where it joins a new
one easily gladly. He smiled again and rang the bell.
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He gave the old servant his directions, and, in taking
a bottle whiskey in a wine glass from the cupboard
in which he kept his chemicals, said, the snow lies deep,
and it will be difficult walking to night on the moor.
A glass of ushan barg before you go. I would
have declined the spirit, but he pressed it on me
and I drank it. It went down my throat like
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liquid flame, and almost took my breath away. It is strong,
he said, but it will help keep the coold out.
And now you have no moments to spare good night.
I thanked him for his hospitality, and I would have
shaken his hands, but that he had turned away before
I could finish my sentence. In another minute, I had
traversed a hall, Jacob had locked the outer door behind me,
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and we were out on the wide white moor. Although
the wind had fallen, it was still bitterly cold. Not
a star glimmered in the black vault overhead, not a
sound save the rapid crunching of the snow beneath our feet,
Disturbed the heavy stillness of the night, Jacob, not too
well pleased with his mission, shambled on before in sullen silence,
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his lantern in his hand and his shadow at his feet.
I followed, with my gun over my shoulder, as little
inclined for conversation as himself. My thoughts were full of
my late host. His voice yet rang in my ears,
His eloquence yet held my imagination captive. I remember to
this day with surprise, how my over excited brain retained
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whole sentences, and parts of sentences, troops of brilliant images,
and fragments of splendid reasoning in the very words in
which he had uttered them. Musing thus over what I
had heard, and striving to recall a lost link here
and there, I strode on at the heels of my guide,
absorbed and unobservant, presently at the end, as it seemed
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to me, of only a few minutes. He came to
a sudden halt and said, Andy and Zeroad, kate the
stone fence on your right hand, and you will have
fail find way. Ah. So this is the old coach road,
I to the old culture road. And how far do
I go before I reached a crossroads, now an about
three mile, I pulled up. My personally became more communicative.
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The roads are fair road enough, said he for foot passengers,
but twas over steep and narrow for the northern traffic.
You'll mind where the paraprit's broken away. Close again the signpost.
It's never mamanded since the accident. What accident? Ah, the
nightmail pet right over in the valley below, good fifty
feet or more and just worse better road than old County. Horrible,
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many lives lost, all far were found dead, and you
are two dyed next morning, And well, how long is
it since this happened just nine years? Near the signpost,
you say, bear in mind, good night, good night, sir,
and thank'e. Jacob pocketed his half crown and made a
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faint pretense of touching his hat, and he trudged back
the way he had come. I watched the light of
his lantern till it had quite disappeared, and then turned
to pursue my way of loan. This was no longer
a matter of the slightest difficulty, for despite the dead
darkness overhead, the lioner's stone fence showed distinctly enough against
the pale gleam of the snow. How silent it seemed,
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now with only my footsteps to listen to, how silent
and how solitary. A strange, disagreeable sense of loneliness stole
over me. I walked faster, I hummed a fragment of tune.
I cast up enormous sums in my head and accumulated
them at compound interest. I did my best, in short,
to forget these startling speculations to which I had just
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but been listening, and to some extent I succeeded. Meanwhile,
the air seemed to become colder and colder, and though
I walked fast, I've had it impossible to keep myself warm.
My feet were like ice. I lost sensation in my
hands and grasped my gun mechanically. I even breathed with difficulty,
as though instead of traversing a quiet northern country highway,
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I was scaling the uppermost heights of some gigantic alp.
This last symptom became presently so distressing that I was
forced to stop for a few minutes and lean against
the stone fence. And as I did so, I chanced
to look back up the road, and there, to my
infinite relief, I saw the distant point of light, like
the gleam of an approaching lantern. I at first concluded
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that Jacob had rechased his steps and followed me. But
even as the conjecture presented itself, a second light flashed
into sight, a light evidently parallel with the first, and
approaching at the same rate of motion. It needed no
second thought to show me that these must be the
carriage lamps of some private vehicle. Though it seemed strange
that any private vehicle should be taking a road so
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professedly disused and dangerous. It could be no doubt, however,
of the fact, for the lamps grew larger and brighter
with every moment, and I fancied I could even see
one the dark outline of a carriage between them. It
was coming up very fast and quite noiselessly, and the
snow being nearly a foot deep under the wheels, and
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now the body of the vehicle became distinctly visible behind
the lamps. It looked strangely lofty, and a sudden suspicion
flashed upon me. Was it possible that I had passed
the cross roads in the dark without observing the sandpost,
and could this be the very coach which I had
come to meet, only to ask myself the question the
second time. Here it came round the bend of the road,
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guard and driver, one outside passenger, and four streaming grays,
all wrapped in a soft haze of light, through which
the lamps blazed out like a pair of old fiery meteors.
I jumped forward, waved my hat and shouted, and the
mail came down at full speed and passed me. For
a moment I feared I had not been seen nor heard,
But that was only for a moment. The coachman pulled up,
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the guard, muffled to the eyes in capes and comforters,
and apparently sound asleep in the rumble. Neither answered my
hail nor made the slightest effort to dismount. The outside
passenger did not even turn his head. I opened the
door for myself and looked in. There were but three
travelers inside, so I stepped in, shut the door, and
slipped into the vacant corner, and congratulated myself for my
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good fortune. The atmosphere of the coach seemed, if possible,
colder than that of the outer air, and it was
pervaded by a singularly damp and disagreeable smell. I looked
around at my fellow passengers. There were all three men,
and all silent. They did not seem to be asleep,
but each leaned back in his corner of the vehicle,
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as if absorbed in his own reflections. I attempted to
open the conversation. How intensely cold it is to night,
I said, addressing my opposite neighbor. He lifted his head,
looked at me, but made no reply. The winter, i added,
seems to have begun in earnest. Although the corner in
which he sat was so dim I could distinguish none
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of his features very clearly. I saw that his eyes
were still turned full upon me, and yet he answered
never a word. At any other time I should have felt,
or perhaps express some annoyance, But at the moment I
felt too ill to do either. The icy coldness of
the air had struck a chill to me to the
very marrow, and the strange smell inside the coach was
affecting me with an intolerable nausea. I shivered from head
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to foot, and turning to my left hand, neighbor asked
if he had any objection to open a window. He
never spoke nor stirred. I repeated the question somewhat more loudly,
with the same result. Then I lost patience and let
the sash down. As I did so, the leather strap
broke in my hand, and I observed that the glass
was covered with a thick coat of mildew, the accumulation
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apparently of years. My attention was thus drawn to the
condition of the coach, and I examined it more narrowly,
and saw, by the uncertain light of the outer lamps
that it was in the last stage of dilapidation. Every
part of it was not only and disrepair, but in
a condition of decay. The sashes were splintered at touch,
the leather fittings were crusted over with mold and literally
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rotting from the woodwork. The floor was almost breaking away
beneath my feet. The whole machine, in short, was foul
with damp, and had evidently been dragged from some outhouse
in which had been moldering away for years. To do
another day or two of duty on the road. I
turned to the third passenger I had not yet addressed,
and hazarded. One more remark. This coach, I said, is
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in a deplorable condition, the regular male, I suppose, and
under repair. He moved his head slowly and looked me
in the face, without speaking a word. I'll never forget
that look while I live. I turned cold at heart
under it. I turned cold at heart even now when
I recall it. His eyes glowed with a fiery and
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natural luster. His face was livid at the face of
a corpse. His bloodless lips were drawn back, as if
in the agony of death, and showed the gleaming teeth
between the words that I was about to ha died
upon my lips, and a strange horror, a dreadful horror,
came upon me. My sight, by this time had become
used to the gloom of the coach, and I could
see you with a tolerable distinctness. I turned to my
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opposite neighbor. He too was looking at me, with the
same startling pallor in his face and the same stony
glitter in his eyes. I passed my hand across my brow.
I turned to the passenger on the seat beside my own,
and saw, Oh Heaven, how shall I describe what I saw,
I saw he himself was no living man, that none
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of them were living men like myself. A pale phosphorescent light,
the light of putrification, played upon their awful faces, upon
their hair, dank with the dews of the grave, upon
their clothes, earth stained and dropping to pieces, upon their hands,
which were the hands of corpses long buried. Only their eyes,
the terrible eyes, were living, and those eyes all turned
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menacingly upon me. A shriek of terror, A wild, unintelligible
cry for help and mercy, burst out from my lips,
as I flung myself against the door and strove in
vain to open it. In that single instant, a brief
and vivid as a landscape beheld in the flash of
summer lightning. I saw the moon shining down in a
rift of stormy cloud, and the ghastly signposts rearing its
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warning finger by the wayside, the broken parapet, plunging horses,
the black gulf below, and then the coat reeled like
a ship at sea. And then then came a mighty crash,
the sense of crushing pain, and then darkness. It seemed
as if years had gone by. When I woke one
morning from a deep sleep, and found my wife watching
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by my bedside. I will pass over the scene that ensued,
and I will give you, in half a dozen words,
the tale that she told me with tears of thanksgiving.
I had fallen over to the precipice, close against the
junction of the old coach road and a new and
had only been saved from certain death by lightning upon
a deep snow drift that had accumulated at the foot
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of the rock beneath. In this snow drift, I was
discovered at daybreak by a couple of shepherds, who carried
me to the nearest shelter. I brought a surgeon to
my aid. The surgeon found me in a state of
raving delirium, with a broken arm and compound fracture of
the skull. The letters in my pocket showed my name
and my address, and my wife was summoned to nurse me.
(29:01):
And yes, thanks to a youth and a fine constitution,
I came out of danger at last. The place of
my fall, I need scarcely say, was precisely that at
which the frightful accident had happened to the North Mail
some nine years before. I never told my wife the
fearful events which I have just related to you. I
told the surgeon who attended me, but he treated the
(29:22):
whole adventurism mere dream born out of the fever in
my brain. We discussed the question over and over again
until we found that we could discuss it with temper
no longer, and then we dropped it. Others may form
what conclusions they please. I know that twenty years ago
I was the fourth passenger inside that phantom coach.
The circumstances I'm about to relate to you have truth
to recommend them. They happened to myself, and my recollection
of them is as vivid as if they had taken
place only yesterday. Twenty years, however, have gone by since
that night, and during those twenty years I've told the
story to but one other person. I tell it now
with reluctance, and a reluctant which I find difficult to overcome.
(00:23):
All I entreat meanwhile, is that you will abstain from
forcing your own conclusions upon me. I want nothing explained away.
I desire no arguments. My mind is made up on
this subject, quite made up, and having the testimony of
my own senses to rely upon, I prefer to abide
by it. Well, it was just twenty years ago, and
(00:44):
within a day or two of the end of the
grouse season, I've been out all day with my gun,
and I had no sport to speak of. The wind
was due east the month of December. The place a
bleak wide more in the far north of England, and
I had lost my way. It was not a pleasant
place in which to louse on's way. With the first
(01:05):
feathery flakes of a coming snow storm just fluttering down
upon the heather, and that led in the evening closing
in all around. I shedded my eyes with my hand
and stared anxiously into the gathering darkness, where the purple
moorland melted into a range of low hills, some ten
or twelve miles distant. Not the faintest smoke wreath, not
(01:27):
the tiniest cultivated patch or fence or sheep track met
my eyes in any direction. There was nothing for it
but to walk on, and to take my chance of
finding what shelter I could by the way. So I
shouldered my gun again and pushed on wearily forward, for
I had been on foot since an hour after daybreak,
and had had nothing to eat since breakfast. Meanwhile, the
(01:50):
snow began to come down with ominous steadiness, and the
wind fell. After this, the cold became more intense, and
the night came rapidly up. As for me, my prospects
darkened with the darkening sky, and my heart grew heavy
as I thought of how my young wife was already
watching for me through the window of our little inn parlor,
and the thought of all the suffering in store for
(02:11):
her throughout this weary night. We had been married for
four months, and, having spent our autumn in the Highlands,
were now lodging in a remote little village situated just
on the verge of the great English Moorlands. We were
very much in love, and of course very happy. This
morning when we parted, she had implored me to return
(02:31):
before dusk, and I'd promise her that I would, or
that I have not given to have kept my word.
Even now, weary as I was, I felt that with
a supper, an hour's rest, a guide, I might still
get back to her before midnight, if only guide and
shelter could be found. And all this time the snow
fell and the night thickened. I stopped and shouted every
(02:53):
now and again, but my shouts seemed only to make
the silence deeper. Then a vague sense of an easy
came upon me, and I began to remember stories of
travelers who had walked on and on in the falling
snow until wearied out they were fain to lie down
and sleep their lives away. Would it be possible, i
(03:14):
asked myself, to keep on thus through all the long
dark night. Well, there not come a time when my
limbs must fail, and my resolution give way, when I
too must sleep the sleep of death. Death. I shuddered,
How hard to die just now, when all life lay
so bright before me, How hard for my darling and
(03:35):
his whole loving heart. But that thought was not to
be borne. To banish it, I shouted again, louder and longer,
and listened eagerly. Was my shout answered? Or did I
only fancy that I heard a far off cry? I
hallowed again and again, and the echo followed. Then a
wavering speck of light came suddenly out of the dark,
(03:56):
shifting and disappearing, growing momentarily nearer and brighter. Running towards
it at full speed, I found myself, in my great
joy to be face to face with an old man
and a lantern. And God was the explanation that burst
involuntarily from my lips. Blinking and frowning. He lifted his
lantern and peered into my face. What fur, he growled, sulkily.
(04:19):
Well for you. I began to feel that I should
be lost in the snow. Eh Well, folks will get
cast away from you. If I'm tad to tam, I
are surn to you from being cast away. Likewise, if
the Lord so minded. Well, if the Lord is so mighty,
then you and I shall be cast together. Friend, But
you must admit, I replied, But I don't mean to
be lost without you. How far am I from Dwolding? Ah, good,
(04:40):
twenty mile more alas and the nearest village or nearest
village's wife, and not twelve miles to the other side.
Well where do you live, then, on, yonder, said he,
with a vague jerk of the lantern, And you're going home?
I presume maybe I am. Then I'm going with you.
Your man shook his head and rubbed his nose reflectively
with the handle of the lantern. I know you, goose,
(05:00):
he growled. You won't let you a nigh. Well we'll
see about that, I replied briskly. And who is he
the master? And who is the master? Or asked not
to the will you? Was the young ceremonious reply. Well, well,
you lead the way, and I shall engage that the
Master shall give me shelter and supper to night. A
ha ha, you can try him, muttered my reluctant guide,
(05:22):
And still shaking his head, he hobbled homelike away through
the falling snow. A large mass loomed up presently out
of the darkness, and a huge dog rushed out, barking furiously.
Is this the house? I asked, Aye, it's the house, down, boy,
and he fumbled in his pocket for the key. I
drew close up behind him, prepared to lose no chance
of entrance, and saw in the little circle of light
(05:44):
shed by the lantern that the door was heavily studded
with iron nails, like the door of a prison. In
another minute he had turned the key in the lark,
and I had pushed past him into the house. Once inside,
I looked around with curiosity and found myself in a
great rafted hall which served apparently a variety of uses.
One end was piled to the roof with corn like
(06:06):
a barn. The other was stored flower sacks, agricultural instruments, casks,
and all kinds of miscellaneous lumber, while from the beams
overhead hung rows of hams, flitches, and bunches of dried
herbs for winter use. In the center of the floor
stood some huge object, gauntly dressed in a dingy wrapping
cloth and reaching half way to the rafters. Left in
(06:28):
the corner of this cloth, I saw to my surprise,
a telescope of very considerable size, mounted on a rude
moving platform. Four small wheels adorned its edges, and the
tube was made of painted wood, bound round with bands
of metal rudely fashioned a speculum. So far as I
could estimated size in the dim light, was measured at
(06:49):
least fifteen inches in diameter. And while I was yet
examining the instrument and asking myself whether or not it
was the work of some self talked optician, a bell
rang sharply as for you, said my guide, with a
malicious grin. Yander's isram. He pointed to a low black
door at the opposite side of the hall, and I
(07:09):
crossed over, wrapped somewhat loudly, and went in. I didn't
wait for an invitation. A huge, white haired old man
rose from the table covered with books and papers and
confronted me sternly. Who are you? He said? He, how
did you come here? What do you want? James Murray
Barrister at low on foot across the moor, meet drink
and sleep. He bent his bushy brows into a pretentious frown.
(07:34):
Mine is not a house of entertainment, he said, haughtily, Jacob,
how dared you admit this stranger? I dinner, madame, grumbled
the old man. He followed me o the moor and
shouldered his way in before me, I'm no match for
six foot two, And pray, sir, by what right have
you forced entrance into my house by the same which
I should have clung to your boat if I were drowning?
(07:56):
The right of self preservation? Self preservation. There's an inch
of snow on the ground already, I replied briefly, and
it would be deep enough to cover my body before daybreak.
He strove to the window, pulled aside a heavy black curtain,
and looked out. Hum, it is true, he said, you
can stay if you choose, till morning. Jacob served the supper,
(08:18):
and with this he waved me to a seat, resumed
his own, and became at once absorbed into the studies
from which I had disturbed him. I placed my gun
in the corner, drew a chair to the hearth, and
examined my quarters at leisure. Smaller and less incongruous than
its arrangements in the hall, this room contained, nevertheless, much
to awaken my curiosity. The floor was carpetless, the whitewashed walls,
(08:42):
who were in parts scrawled over with strange diagrams, and
others covered with shells, crowded with philosophical instruments, the uses
of which were totally unknown to me. On one side
of the fireplace stood a bookcase filled with dingy folios,
on the other a small organ fantastically decorated with painted
carvings of medieval saints and devils. Through the half open
(09:04):
door of a cupboard at the further entered the room,
I saw a long array of geological specimens, surgical preparations
and crucibles, retorts, and jars of chemicals, while on the
mantel shelf beside me, amid a number of smaller objects,
stood a model of the solar system, a small galvanic battery,
and a microscope. Every chair had its burden, every corner
(09:26):
was heaped high with books, and the very floor was
littered over with maps, casts, papers, tracings, and the learned
lumber of all conceivable kinds. I stared about me with
an amazement, increased by every fresh object upon which my
eyes chanced to rest. So strange a room I have
never seen, yet, it seemed strangeer till to find such
(09:48):
a room in a lone farmhouse, amid these wild and
solitary moors. Over and over again, I looked from my
host to his surroundings, and from his surroundings back to
my host, asking myself who and what could he be.
His head was singularly fine, but it was more the
head of a poet than a philosopher, broad in the temples,
prominent over the eyes, and clothed with a rough profusion
(10:10):
of perfectly white hair. It had all the ideality and
much of the ruggedness which characterizes the head of Louis
van Beethoven. There were some deep lines about the mouth,
and the same stern furrows in the brow. There was
the same concentration of expression. And while I was yet
observing him, the door opened and Jacob brought in the supper.
His master then closed the book rose, and with more
(10:31):
or less a courtesy of manner than he had yet shown,
showed me to the table. A dish of ham and eggs,
a loaf of brown bread, and a bottle of a
mirable sherry were placed before me. I have but the
homeliest farmhouse fair to offer you, sir, said my entertainer.
Your appetite, I trust will make up for the deficiencies
of ar Lada. I had already fallen upon thee Viannes,
(10:54):
and now protested with all the enthusiasm of starving sportsmen
that I had never eaten anything so so delicious. He
bowed stiffly and sat down to his own supper, which
consisted primitively of a jug of milk and a basin
of porridge. We yet in silence, and when we had done,
Jacob's removed the tray and then drew my chair back
to the fireside. My host, somewhat to my surprise, did
(11:17):
the same, and, turning abruptly towards me, said, sir, I
have lived here in strict retirement for three and twenty
years that during that time I have not seen many
strange faces, and I have not read a single newspaper.
You were the first stranger who's crossed my threshold for
more than four years. Will you do me a favor
with a few words of information respecting the outer world
from which I have parted company? So long pray interrogate me,
(11:42):
I replied, I am heartily at your service. He bent
his head and acknowledgment, leaned forward, with his elbows resting
on his knees and his chin supported on the palms
of his hands. He steed fixedly into the fire and
proceeded to question me. His inquiries were related chiefly to
scientific matters, with the latter progress of which is applied
(12:02):
to the practical purposes of life. He was almost wholly unacquainted.
No student of science myself, I replied as well, of
my slight information permitted, But the task was far from easy,
and I was much relieved when passing from interrogation to discussion,
he began pouring forth his own conclusions upon the facts
which I had been attempting to place before him. He talked,
(12:23):
and I listened, spellbound. He talked till I believe he
almost forgot my presence and thought aloud, I had never
heard anything like it. Then, I have never heard anything
like it since. Familiar with all systems of all philosophies,
subtle in analysis, bold in generalization, he poured forth his
thoughts in uninterrupted streams, and, still leaning forward in the
(12:47):
same moody attitude, with his eyes fixed upon the fire,
wandered from topic to topic, from speculation to speculation, like
an inspired dreamer, from practical science to mental philosophy. From
electricity in the wire to electricity in the nerve, from
what to Mesmer, from Mesmer to Reichenbach, from Reichenbach to Swedenborg.
For Spinosa, Condilac, de Caha, Barclay, Aristotle, Plato, and the
(13:11):
magi and the mystics of the East were transitions which,
however bewildering in their variety in scope, seemed easy and
harmonious upon his lips, as the sequences of music by
and Bye I forgot what link of conjecture or illustration
he passed onto the field which lies beyond the boundary
of even conjectural philosophy, and reaches into areas no man
(13:34):
knows whither. He spoke of the soul and its aspirations,
of the spirit and its powers of second sight, a
prophecy of those phenomena which, under the names of ghost
specters and supernatural appearances, have all been denied by the
skeptics and attested by the credulous of all ages. The
world he said, gils only more and more skeptical of
(13:56):
all that lies beyond its narrow radius, and men of
science foster the fatal tendency. They condemn us feeble all
that resists experiment. They reject us false all that cannot
be brought to the test of the laboratory or the
dissecting room against What superstition have they waged so long
(14:17):
and obstinate a war as against the belief and apparitions?
And yet what superstition has maintained its hold upon the
minds of men so long and so firmly. Show me
any fact in physics, in history, and archaeology which is
supported by testimonies so wide and so various, attested to
by all races of men, all ages, and in all climates,
by the soberist sages, in antiquity, by the rudis savage
(14:40):
of today, by the Christian, the pagan, the pantheist, the materialists.
This phenomenon is treated as a nursery tale by philosophers
of our century. Circumstantial evidence weighs with them as a
feather in the balance, and the comparison of causes with effects,
however valuable in physical science, is put aside as worthless
an uns reliable. The evidence of the competant witness, however
(15:04):
conclusive in a court of justice, counts for nothing. He
who pauses before he pronounces is condemned as a trifler
he believes is a dreamer or a fool who spoke
with bitterness, and having said thus, relapsed for some minutes
into silence. Presently, he raised his head from his hands
(15:24):
and added, with an altered voice and manner, ay sir paused, investigated, relieved,
and was not ashamed to state my convictions for the world.
I too was branded as a visionary, held up as
a ridicule for my contemporaries, and hooted from that field
of science in which I had labored with honor during
(15:46):
the best years of my life. These things happened just
three and twenty years ago. Since then, I have lived
as you see me living now, and the world has
forgotten me as I have forgotten the world. You have
my history. It's a very sad one, I murmured, scarcely
knowing what to answer. It's a very common one, he replied.
(16:09):
I have only suffered from the truth, as many a
better and wiser man has suffered before me. He rose,
as if desirous of ending the conversation, and went over
to the window. It ceased snowing, he observed as he
dropped the curtain and came back to the fireside. Ceased,
I exclaimed, starting eagerly on my viek oh, if it
were only possible, But no, it is hopeless, And even
(16:32):
if I could find my way across the moor, I
could not walk twenty miles to night, walk twenty miles
to night, repeated my host. What are you thinking of
of my wife? I replied, impatiently, of my young wife,
who does not know that I have lost my way,
and is at this moment breaking her heart with suspense
and terror. Where is she a dwolding twenty miles away? Dwolding,
(16:53):
he echoed thoughtfully. Yes, the distance is true, he is
about twenty miles. But whom so very anxious to see
the next six or eight hours, so very very anxious
that I would give ten guineas for this moment, and
a guide and a horse. Your wish can be gratified
at a less costly rate, said he smiling. The nightmail
(17:13):
from the North, which changes horses at Dwelding, passes within
five miles at this spot, and will be due at
a certain crossroads in about an hour and a quarter.
If Jacob were to go with you across the moor
and put you in the old coach road, you'd finde
you aware, I suppose to where it joins a new
one easily gladly. He smiled again and rang the bell.
(17:35):
He gave the old servant his directions, and, in taking
a bottle whiskey in a wine glass from the cupboard
in which he kept his chemicals, said, the snow lies deep,
and it will be difficult walking to night on the moor.
A glass of ushan barg before you go. I would
have declined the spirit, but he pressed it on me
and I drank it. It went down my throat like
(17:56):
liquid flame, and almost took my breath away. It is strong,
he said, but it will help keep the coold out.
And now you have no moments to spare good night.
I thanked him for his hospitality, and I would have
shaken his hands, but that he had turned away before
I could finish my sentence. In another minute, I had
traversed a hall, Jacob had locked the outer door behind me,
(18:18):
and we were out on the wide white moor. Although
the wind had fallen, it was still bitterly cold. Not
a star glimmered in the black vault overhead, not a
sound save the rapid crunching of the snow beneath our feet,
Disturbed the heavy stillness of the night, Jacob, not too
well pleased with his mission, shambled on before in sullen silence,
(18:41):
his lantern in his hand and his shadow at his feet.
I followed, with my gun over my shoulder, as little
inclined for conversation as himself. My thoughts were full of
my late host. His voice yet rang in my ears,
His eloquence yet held my imagination captive. I remember to
this day with surprise, how my over excited brain retained
(19:02):
whole sentences, and parts of sentences, troops of brilliant images,
and fragments of splendid reasoning in the very words in
which he had uttered them. Musing thus over what I
had heard, and striving to recall a lost link here
and there, I strode on at the heels of my guide,
absorbed and unobservant, presently at the end, as it seemed
(19:25):
to me, of only a few minutes. He came to
a sudden halt and said, Andy and Zeroad, kate the
stone fence on your right hand, and you will have
fail find way. Ah. So this is the old coach road,
I to the old culture road. And how far do
I go before I reached a crossroads, now an about
three mile, I pulled up. My personally became more communicative.
(19:46):
The roads are fair road enough, said he for foot passengers,
but twas over steep and narrow for the northern traffic.
You'll mind where the paraprit's broken away. Close again the signpost.
It's never mamanded since the accident. What accident? Ah, the
nightmail pet right over in the valley below, good fifty
feet or more and just worse better road than old County. Horrible,
(20:11):
many lives lost, all far were found dead, and you
are two dyed next morning, And well, how long is
it since this happened just nine years? Near the signpost,
you say, bear in mind, good night, good night, sir,
and thank'e. Jacob pocketed his half crown and made a
(20:32):
faint pretense of touching his hat, and he trudged back
the way he had come. I watched the light of
his lantern till it had quite disappeared, and then turned
to pursue my way of loan. This was no longer
a matter of the slightest difficulty, for despite the dead
darkness overhead, the lioner's stone fence showed distinctly enough against
the pale gleam of the snow. How silent it seemed,
(20:54):
now with only my footsteps to listen to, how silent
and how solitary. A strange, disagreeable sense of loneliness stole
over me. I walked faster, I hummed a fragment of tune.
I cast up enormous sums in my head and accumulated
them at compound interest. I did my best, in short,
to forget these startling speculations to which I had just
(21:16):
but been listening, and to some extent I succeeded. Meanwhile,
the air seemed to become colder and colder, and though
I walked fast, I've had it impossible to keep myself warm.
My feet were like ice. I lost sensation in my
hands and grasped my gun mechanically. I even breathed with difficulty,
as though instead of traversing a quiet northern country highway,
(21:39):
I was scaling the uppermost heights of some gigantic alp.
This last symptom became presently so distressing that I was
forced to stop for a few minutes and lean against
the stone fence. And as I did so, I chanced
to look back up the road, and there, to my
infinite relief, I saw the distant point of light, like
the gleam of an approaching lantern. I at first concluded
(22:01):
that Jacob had rechased his steps and followed me. But
even as the conjecture presented itself, a second light flashed
into sight, a light evidently parallel with the first, and
approaching at the same rate of motion. It needed no
second thought to show me that these must be the
carriage lamps of some private vehicle. Though it seemed strange
that any private vehicle should be taking a road so
(22:22):
professedly disused and dangerous. It could be no doubt, however,
of the fact, for the lamps grew larger and brighter
with every moment, and I fancied I could even see
one the dark outline of a carriage between them. It
was coming up very fast and quite noiselessly, and the
snow being nearly a foot deep under the wheels, and
(22:44):
now the body of the vehicle became distinctly visible behind
the lamps. It looked strangely lofty, and a sudden suspicion
flashed upon me. Was it possible that I had passed
the cross roads in the dark without observing the sandpost,
and could this be the very coach which I had
come to meet, only to ask myself the question the
second time. Here it came round the bend of the road,
(23:04):
guard and driver, one outside passenger, and four streaming grays,
all wrapped in a soft haze of light, through which
the lamps blazed out like a pair of old fiery meteors.
I jumped forward, waved my hat and shouted, and the
mail came down at full speed and passed me. For
a moment I feared I had not been seen nor heard,
But that was only for a moment. The coachman pulled up,
(23:28):
the guard, muffled to the eyes in capes and comforters,
and apparently sound asleep in the rumble. Neither answered my
hail nor made the slightest effort to dismount. The outside
passenger did not even turn his head. I opened the
door for myself and looked in. There were but three
travelers inside, so I stepped in, shut the door, and
slipped into the vacant corner, and congratulated myself for my
(23:49):
good fortune. The atmosphere of the coach seemed, if possible,
colder than that of the outer air, and it was
pervaded by a singularly damp and disagreeable smell. I looked
around at my fellow passengers. There were all three men,
and all silent. They did not seem to be asleep,
but each leaned back in his corner of the vehicle,
(24:12):
as if absorbed in his own reflections. I attempted to
open the conversation. How intensely cold it is to night,
I said, addressing my opposite neighbor. He lifted his head,
looked at me, but made no reply. The winter, i added,
seems to have begun in earnest. Although the corner in
which he sat was so dim I could distinguish none
(24:33):
of his features very clearly. I saw that his eyes
were still turned full upon me, and yet he answered
never a word. At any other time I should have felt,
or perhaps express some annoyance, But at the moment I
felt too ill to do either. The icy coldness of
the air had struck a chill to me to the
very marrow, and the strange smell inside the coach was
affecting me with an intolerable nausea. I shivered from head
(24:57):
to foot, and turning to my left hand, neighbor asked
if he had any objection to open a window. He
never spoke nor stirred. I repeated the question somewhat more loudly,
with the same result. Then I lost patience and let
the sash down. As I did so, the leather strap
broke in my hand, and I observed that the glass
was covered with a thick coat of mildew, the accumulation
(25:18):
apparently of years. My attention was thus drawn to the
condition of the coach, and I examined it more narrowly,
and saw, by the uncertain light of the outer lamps
that it was in the last stage of dilapidation. Every
part of it was not only and disrepair, but in
a condition of decay. The sashes were splintered at touch,
the leather fittings were crusted over with mold and literally
(25:41):
rotting from the woodwork. The floor was almost breaking away
beneath my feet. The whole machine, in short, was foul
with damp, and had evidently been dragged from some outhouse
in which had been moldering away for years. To do
another day or two of duty on the road. I
turned to the third passenger I had not yet addressed,
and hazarded. One more remark. This coach, I said, is
(26:03):
in a deplorable condition, the regular male, I suppose, and
under repair. He moved his head slowly and looked me
in the face, without speaking a word. I'll never forget
that look while I live. I turned cold at heart
under it. I turned cold at heart even now when
I recall it. His eyes glowed with a fiery and
(26:26):
natural luster. His face was livid at the face of
a corpse. His bloodless lips were drawn back, as if
in the agony of death, and showed the gleaming teeth
between the words that I was about to ha died
upon my lips, and a strange horror, a dreadful horror,
came upon me. My sight, by this time had become
used to the gloom of the coach, and I could
see you with a tolerable distinctness. I turned to my
(26:50):
opposite neighbor. He too was looking at me, with the
same startling pallor in his face and the same stony
glitter in his eyes. I passed my hand across my brow.
I turned to the passenger on the seat beside my own,
and saw, Oh Heaven, how shall I describe what I saw,
I saw he himself was no living man, that none
(27:12):
of them were living men like myself. A pale phosphorescent light,
the light of putrification, played upon their awful faces, upon
their hair, dank with the dews of the grave, upon
their clothes, earth stained and dropping to pieces, upon their hands,
which were the hands of corpses long buried. Only their eyes,
the terrible eyes, were living, and those eyes all turned
(27:34):
menacingly upon me. A shriek of terror, A wild, unintelligible
cry for help and mercy, burst out from my lips,
as I flung myself against the door and strove in
vain to open it. In that single instant, a brief
and vivid as a landscape beheld in the flash of
summer lightning. I saw the moon shining down in a
rift of stormy cloud, and the ghastly signposts rearing its
(27:57):
warning finger by the wayside, the broken parapet, plunging horses,
the black gulf below, and then the coat reeled like
a ship at sea. And then then came a mighty crash,
the sense of crushing pain, and then darkness. It seemed
as if years had gone by. When I woke one
morning from a deep sleep, and found my wife watching
(28:18):
by my bedside. I will pass over the scene that ensued,
and I will give you, in half a dozen words,
the tale that she told me with tears of thanksgiving.
I had fallen over to the precipice, close against the
junction of the old coach road and a new and
had only been saved from certain death by lightning upon
a deep snow drift that had accumulated at the foot
(28:39):
of the rock beneath. In this snow drift, I was
discovered at daybreak by a couple of shepherds, who carried
me to the nearest shelter. I brought a surgeon to
my aid. The surgeon found me in a state of
raving delirium, with a broken arm and compound fracture of
the skull. The letters in my pocket showed my name
and my address, and my wife was summoned to nurse me.
(29:01):
And yes, thanks to a youth and a fine constitution,
I came out of danger at last. The place of
my fall, I need scarcely say, was precisely that at
which the frightful accident had happened to the North Mail
some nine years before. I never told my wife the
fearful events which I have just related to you. I
told the surgeon who attended me, but he treated the
(29:22):
whole adventurism mere dream born out of the fever in
my brain. We discussed the question over and over again
until we found that we could discuss it with temper
no longer, and then we dropped it. Others may form
what conclusions they please. I know that twenty years ago
I was the fourth passenger inside that phantom coach.
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