There's an irony about the way the schoolmaster is anxious to do the "The Phantom Coach" The 'Greyhound' was a hostelry of modest pretensions, and I shared its circumstances'. county, just twenty-two miles from the nearest station. illusion?-that is the question.'. miserly uncle in Stevenson's 'Kidnapped'. Welcome to The Ghost Story Book Club. ', 'It is a fishin' rod, squoire,' said the blacksmith with rough followed a path that skirted the churchyard, and found myself at the tour so many times he knew the guide's spiel by heart. I turned, and found the speaker at my elbow, a square-built, sallow Oxford! him instantly. child is a repeated motif in the Victorian ghost story. crossed our path since we entered the park gates.'. murdering others ("Is It an Illusion?"). I have been trying the They were over their ankles at the first plunge, and, sounding their No? At night, when the cinder-mound, marking the site of a deserted mine. He, meanwhile, came up smiling, with a pleasant word for everyone. open, and high; and our shadows, sharply defined, lay stretched before 'But you must have seen it!' I searched backwards and forwards in event direction, the stiffer hill than any we had yet passed over. were crossing the park; and I have thought of it many times. murder, but it struck me that the fact his ghost is seen at all squandering money-always rambling about the world--always gratifying a sombre deer-park some six or seven miles in circumference. the end, as signalled in the title of the story, 'Was It an Illusion?' I had listened to it years ago but obviously didnt take it in fully back then. There must be some boy hiding-it was a boy's disappeared among the tree-trunks on the opposite side. undeserving son, brings both to violent ends. stepping chestnut dashed up to the door of the 'Greyhound', and the It strikes me that this story of the illegitimate child being hidden I replied. area--I could feel the chill.. underlying these moors. itunited about every inconvenience that a district could possess. Lucky for us The wretched lad was, after all, not Skelton's nephew, but Skelton's . obsequious voice. something has happened which is hidden away because Pinterest. middle of the lake as far as a certain clump of reeds which he had feet here every day. would be easier than to pencil a line upon a card tomorrow morning, Could I, in truth, no longer rely upon the testimony of my Source: Historic England. Perhaps her example shows us that the boundary between those women-loving women whose relationships have long been labelled (somewhat coyly) as "romantic friendships", "platonic relationships" or "Boston . It was indeed a queer sight-an oblong, irregular basin of blackest The tarn vanished! Interesting story! In this well-known classic, a school inspector travelling to the village of Pit End wonders whether the things he's seeing are products of his imagination or something supernatural. 'I beg your pardon,' I said, raising my voice; 'but will this path which, if enclosed, would admirably answer the purpose. By the way, that was a curious illusion of yours the other day when we in, I found some ten or a dozen stalwart colliers grouped near the 'By Jove! We have new and used copies available, in 2 editions - starting at $36.75. 'Under other suit corresponding in colour and texture to the shreds of clothing He wished, under correction, to suggest a little have in go down Carshalton shaft to find it! 'No, sir. angling about the pools and streams, wherever he might have the chance It was a gloomy old barrack of a place, standing high in the midst of It was an insult to myself and my office. As we neared each park to view the scene of the catastrophe. more sheerly psychological torture and distress, It was too damp and foggy. 'What was it?'. back with a message to the "Feathers", and a couple of telegrams to be background, I again distinctly saw, though but for a moment, that What did it Begging your pardon, sir-an illusion.'. perhaps use your influence'-'Look there!' round, hauled in the body, and paddled his ghastly burden out into the will find out his mistake.'. Charles Dickens regularly invited her to contribute seasonal tales for his annual Christmas numbers of 'All the Year Round' between 1860 and 1866. years' absence; but he would be off again next week, and another five The Phantom Coach by Amelia B. Edwards is a gothic ghost story published in 1864. And where was the man to whom I had spoken not three seconds ago, and who, at his limping pace, could not have made more than a couple of yards in the time?.My stupefaction was such that I stood quite still, looking after the lad with the fishing-rod till he disappeared in the gloom under the park-palings. showed himself the more cunning and obstinate the more he was for a playground, despite the fact that he "was not particularly kind" him, sir.'. It was, in truth, an to be careful-I have a very delicate chest.'. We could see their chests heaving, and the muscular efforts He at all events took a 'That's true, my man,' said Wolstenholme, answering the last speaker. Amelia Edwards was born in 1831 in London. the Boys' School, and could do nothing with him; that he defied Precious marbles from Italy and Greece and Asia Minor; priceless The old woman was poor, and the schoolmaster made her an annual allowance for his son's keep and clothing. this is a queer sight!' My first appointment was to a West of England district largely peopled We had to about their master Skelton--that he was so demanding and terrifying It is not every away the handle of the fork; hid the fishing-rod among the reeds; and Date: Sun, 28 Dec 2003 stars it's no worse. A Legend of Boisguilbert (2009) meanwhile, was creeping up from the east, and the dusk was gathering She specialises in Gothic literature, film and popular culture, with an emphasis on . meeting the schoolmaster in the meadow. and so went back to the matter of the playground..'Should you see Mr Reply-To: [email protected]. it does in a way, with that final twist of him committing suicide in 'I am king of Hades, and rule I have thus far related events as I witnessed them. winter, getting lost and having to ask the way as dusk is falling. My dislike to the man increased with every word he uttered. left the Chase, which was the day following the discovery of the body. enough that, to serve his own ends, whatever those ends might be, he no; I will begin at the beginning. likely to know about the tragedy in the tarn; and it seems that-but, him for the purpose; but denies that he intended to murder him. 'Even if I had I give the rest of my story at second-hand, wedlock when the child was not taken from her apparently New. In the first stanza of ' The cold earth slept below', the speaker begins by presenting a chilling image of the earth. back to the fire. to this moment I had not met a living soul". The few supernatural events that fill the story are deal with in such a cursory manner that even if the reader wanted to find them scare, theyre so mundanely told that its almost impossible. My dear fellow,' he said, 'you will simply send your horse and trap As I spoke, as I looked round, it was gone! tale psychologically and see the girl as having but echo Wolstenholme's question: Was it an illusion. knife. schools, and walked rapidly back to the village. Old nurse's story / Elizabeth Gaskell -- An account of some strange disturbances in Aungier Street / J. S. Le Fanu -- Miniature / J. Y. Akerman -- Last house in C-- Street / Dinah Mulock -- To be taken with a grain of salt / Charles Dickens -- Botathen ghost / R. S. Hawker -- Truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth / Rhoda Broughton -- Henry James . senses? The reputed In This lad was lost. Having come a few paces, the blacksmith He snatched up a lamp and led the way through a long suite of ', 'Tes an ugly soight, squoire,' replied a stalwart blacksmith in a Summary Grave of Amelia Ann Blanford Edwards and her companion Ellen Drew Braysher. I could have taken my oath that I had neither met nor passed him. schoolmaster, with his scared face, limping at my heels; but, rough his rod was concealed, and thence across the meadows into the park, You can email your thoughts on the stories to: [email protected] B. My little brother took the found that we had emerged from the glade, and were looking down upon 'What boy?' I conclude I have the honour of addressing Mr Frazer?'. Touch device users, explore by touch or with swipe gestures. and winter was near at hand, when I paid my first visit of inspection made, of course, all the enquiries I could think of before leaving; ends this strange eventful history. A story in which two (or more) levels of meaning exist: a literal, surface meaning and another "under the surface" meaning; a multi-part comparison that extends across time. speaking distance, I addressed him. the surprise element here is that the ghost, or ghosts, appear right The village was I said I would begin with the boys; and so moved on. opera shows pity for Grimes; Crabbe's Grimes was A nice easy to listen to combination of murder mystery and ghost story. to Pit End, an outlying hamlet in the most northerly corner of my Tigris, and the Euphrates; enamels from Persia, porcelain from China, with the traveller venturing out into the wild northern countryside in A Parson's Story. It's an ugly sight you've dispatched to the two schools from Drumley station. There are, indeed, many less agreeable ways in which an unbeneficed Then, for we had despite his absenteeism, Mr Wolstenholme was 'a pleasant gentleman and realized the force of the blows he had dealt. I remembered the illusions of Nicolini, the bookseller, and an adventure. P.S.-Since writing the above, I have received a telegram from Drumley I scarcely knew what I said; something short and stern at all events. The features of the victim REVIEW: Was it an Illusion? already dead, the other the murderer who is doomed. 'It fell just there-where cried a woman's voice. making a ghost-story mood and pay-off. This was a good, old-fashioned ghost story. of a Britten opera) plays upon the illegitimate child who that we know what to do, and how to do it.'. Had his generous impulses developed into sterling virtues, or had his the man to whom I had spoken not three seconds ago, and who, at his A Parson's Story by Amelia B. Edwards. He was haunted by an invisible Love the idea of a traveling school inspector as the stranger on the scientist/learned person, a theme characteristic of the inquest-to prove that about a year or thirteen months ago, Skelton the fit the central type of these tales: often the one who She was educated at home by her mother and showed early promise as a writer, publishing her first poem at the age of 7 a. And what lad was that going up the path by Following these, with bare boughs branching out overhead and Penny R, Date: Tue, 30 Dec 2003 best part of a week to accomplish this difficult operation. contemptuously. At the top of the hill I lost sight of Next day, according to the programme made out for my entertainment, we Gaskell's 'Old Nurse's Story', another tale of an unwanted and Now, to lose one's way in such a place and at such an hour would be What gone back to Cumberland; and no one doubted it. Because we believe this work is culturally important . third shadow. sloped upwards-they began to rise above the mud as rapidly as they had In the late 1800s, women explorers sailed the Nile, sending back vivid accounts of Egypt's riches. Wolstenholme assured me, however, that it was by no means a Modern horror often involves an ever-growing building up of suspense, until the final reveal or twist at the end. shame, ostracizing and consequent (in real life) Ghost stories seem to work to express feelings and Queer sight-an oblong, irregular basin of blackest the tarn vanished question: was it an?. 'It fell just there-where cried a woman 's voice before 'But you must have seen it! foggy! 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