Disposable Dust Face Mask santly upon cities and the haunts of men. I would have given my soul, as the saying is, for the feel of those Bavarian villages we had passed through by the score for the normal, human commonplaces, peasants drinking beer, tables beneath the trees, hot sunshine, and a ruined castle on the rocks behind the red roofed church. Even the tourists would have been welcome. Yet what I felt of dread was no ordinary ghostly fear. It was infinitely greater, stranger, and seemed disposable dust face mask to arise from some dim ancestral sense of terror more profoundly disturbing than anything I had known or dreamed of. We had strayed, as the Swede put it, into some region or some set of conditions where the risks were great, yet unintelligible to us where the frontiers of some unknown world lay close about us. It was a spot held by the dwellers disposable dust face mask in some outer space, a sort of peephole whence they could spy upon the earth, themselves unseen, a point where the veil between had worn a little thin. As the final result of too long a sojourn here, we should be carried over the border and deprived of what we called our lives, yet by mental, not physical, processes. In that sense, as he said, we should be the victims of our adventure a sacrifice. It took us in different fashion, each according to the measure of his sensitiveness and powers of resistance. I translated it vaguely into a personification of the mightily disturbed elements, investing them with the horror of a deliberate and malefic purpose, resentful of our audacious intrusion into their breeding place whereas my friend threw it into the unoriginal form at first of a trespass on some ancient shrine, some place where the old gods still held sway, where the emotional forces of former worshipers still clung, and the ancestral portion of him yielded to the old pagan spell. At any rate, here was a place unpolluted by men, kept clean by the winds from coarsening human influences, a place where spiritual agencies were within reach and aggressive. Never, before or since, have I been so attacked by indescribable suggestions of a beyond region, of another scheme face mask classification of life, another evolution not parallel to the human. And in the end our minds would succumb under the weight of the awful spell, and we should be drawn across the frontier into their world. Small things testified to this amazing influence of the place, and now in the silence round the fire they allowed themselves to be noted by the mind. The very atmosphere had proved itself a magnifying medium to distort every indication the otter rolling in the current, the hurrying boatman making signs, the shifting willows, one and all had been robbed of its natural character, and revealed in disposable dust face mask something of its other aspect as it existed across the border in that o.ern ghostly stories is apparent in The Haunted Orchard, by Richard Le Gallienne, for this prose poem has an appeal of tenderness rather than of terror. And everybody who has had affection for a dog will appreciate the pathos of the little sketch, by Myla J. Closser, At the Gate. The dog appears more frequently as a ghost than does any other animal, perhaps because man feels that he is nearer the human, though the horse is as intelligent and as much beloved. There is an innate pathos about a dog somehow, that makes his appearance in ghostly form more credible and sympathetic, while the ghost of any other animal would tend to have a comic connotation. Other animals in fiction have power of magic notably the cat but they don t appear as spirits. But the dog is seen as a pathetic symbol of faithfulness, as a tragic sufferer, or as a terrible revenge ghost. Dogs may come singly or in groups Edith Wharton has five of different sorts in Kerfol or in packs, as in Eden Phillpotts s Another Little Heath Hound. An illuminating instance of the power of fiction over human faith is furnished by the case of Arthur Machen s The Bowmen, included here. This story it is which started the whole tissue of legendry concerning supernatural aid given the allied armies during the war. This purely fictitious account of an angel army that saved the day at Mons was so vivid that its readers accepted it as truth and obstinately clung to that idea in the face of Mr. Machen s persistent and bewildered explanations that he had invented the whole thing. Editors wrote leading articles about it, ministers preached sermons on it, and the general public preferred to believe in the Mons angels rather than in Arthur Machen. Mr. Machen has shown himself an artist in the supernatural, one whom his generation has not been discerning enough to appreciate. Some of disposable dust face mask his material is painfully morbid, but his pen is magic and his inkwell holds many dark secrets. In this collection I have attempted to include specimens of a few of the distinctive types of modern ghosts, as well as to show the art of individual stories. Examples of the humorous ghosts are omitted here, as a number of them will be brought together in Humorous Ghost Stories, the companion volume to this. The ghost lover who reads these pages will think of others that he would like to see included for I believe that readers are more passionately attached to their own favorite ghost tales than to any other form of literature. But critics will admit the manifest impossibility of bringing together in one volume all the famous examples of the places that sell face masks art. Some of the well known tales, particularly the older ones on which copyright has expired, have been reprinted so often as to be almost hackneyed, while others.
say that he could never regard any other place as he looked on this, and that he felt towards his lordship and me as he could feel towards no other master and mistress, I gave him another five minutes for what he was pleased with. To do him justice, the list was quite as long as that of his grievances. No people were like us, and he had never been so happy in his life. So I said, Then, James, you want to stay James began a fresh statement, in which his grievances and his satisfactions came alternately, and I cut this short by saying, Well, James, the difficulty seems to be that you have not made up your mind what you do want. I have no time to balance matters for you, so you had better go downstairs and think it well over, and let me know what you decide. He went accordingly, and when he was driven to think for himself by being stopped from talking to me, I suppose he was wise enough to perceive that it is easier to find crosses in one s lot than to feel quite sure that one could change it for a better. I have no doubt that he had not got all he might lawfully have wished for, but, different as our positions were, no more had I, and we both had to do 248 our duty and make the best of life as we found it. It s a very good thing, dear child, to get into the habit of saying to oneself, One can t have everything. I suppose James learned to say it, for he has lived with me ever since. At this moment Joseph called to me through the open window which led into the garden Oh, Selina I am so sorry but when I got to the shop I couldn t remember whether it was a quarter of a yard of ribbon or three quarters that you wanted for the doll s hat. Joseph was always doing stupid things like this. It vexed me very much, and I jumped up and hastily seized my doll to go out and speak to him, saying, as I did so, that boys were enough to drive one wild, and one might as well ask the poodle to do anything as Joseph. And it was not till I had flounced out of the drawing room cheap respirator mask that I felt rather hot and uncomfortable to remember that I had tossed my head, and knitted my brows, and jerked my chin, and pouted my lips, and shaken my skirts, and kicked up my heels, as I did so, and that disposable dust face mask my godmother had probably been observing me through her gold eye glasses. CHAPTER II. It is easier to prevent ill habits than to break them. Old Proverb. I must say that Joseph was rather a stupid boy. He was only a year younger than me, but I never could make him understand exactly what I wanted him to do when we played together and he was always saying, Oh, I say, look here, Selina and proposing some silly plan of his own. But he was very good natured, and when we were alone I let him be uncle to the dolls. When we spent the day with Maud Mary, however, we nev.said after a silence. Let it remain, sighed Lys. Late that night my wife lay sleeping, and I sat beside her bed and read in the Chronicle of Jacques Sorgue. I shaded the candle, but Lys grew restless, and finally I target disposable face mask took the book down into the morning room, where the ashes of the fire rustled and whitened on the hearth. The death s head moth lay on the rug before the fire where I had left it. At first I thought it was dead, but when I looked closer I saw a lambent fire in its amber eyes. The straight white shadow it cast across the floor wavered as the candle flickered. The pages of the Chronicle of Jacques Sorgue were damp and sticky the illuminated gold and blue initials left flakes of azure and gilt where my hand brushed them. It is not paper at all it is thin parchment, I said to myself and what is the n95 ratiing in respiratory masks I held the discolored page close to the candle flame and read, translating laboriously I, Jacques Sorgue, saw all these things. And I saw the Black Mass celebrated in the chapel of St. Gildas on the Cliff. And it was said by the Abb Sorgue, my kinsman for which deadly sin the apostate priest was seized by the most noble Marquis of Plougastel and by him condemned to be burned with hot irons, until his seared soul quit its body and fly to its master the devil. But when the Black Priest lay in the crypt of Plougastel, his master Satan came at night and set him free, and carried him across land and sea to Mahmoud, which is Soldan or Saladin. And I, Jacques Sorgue, traveling afterward by sea, beheld with my own eyes my kinsman, the Black Priest of St. Gildas, borne along in the air upon a vast black wing, which was the wing of his master Satan. And this was seen also by two men of the crew. I turned the page. The wings of the moth on the floor began to quiver. I read on and on, my no mask eyes blurring under the shifting candle flame. I read of battles and of saints, and I learned how the Great Soldan made his pact with Satan, and then I came to the Sieur de Trevec, and read how he seized the Black Priest in the midst of Saladin s tents and carried him away and cut off his head first branding him on the forehead. And before he suffered, said the Chronicle, he cursed the Sieur de Trevec and his descendants, and he said he would surely return to St. Gildas. For the violence you do to me, I will do violence to you. For the evil I suffer at your hands, I will work evil on you and your descendants. Woe to your children, Sieur de Trevec There was a whirr, a beating of strong wings, and my candle flashed up as in a sudden breeze. A humming filled the room the great moth darted hither and thither, beating, buzzing, on ceiling and wall. I flung down my book and stepped forward. Now it lay fluttering upon the window sill, and for a moment I had it.and to tell the gardener when to raise the curtain. I really think one magpie must be a sign of sorrow, as nurse says but what made Bernard take it into his beautiful foolish head to give trouble I 271 cannot imagine. He wouldn t lie down, and when he did, it was with a grump of protest that seemed to forbode failure. However, he let Cocky scold him and pull his hair, which was a safety valve for Cocky. Benjamin dozed with dignity. He knew Cocky wasn t watching for his yellow eyes. I don t think Lettice meant mischief when she summoned the spectators, for time was up. But her warning the curtain to rise when it did was simple malice and revenge. I never can forget the catastrophe, but I do not clearly remember how Tom Smith and I began to quarrel. He was excessively impudent, and seemed to think we couldn t have had a Happy Family without him and his chattering senseless magpie. When I told him to remember he was speaking to a gentleman, he grinned at me. A gentleman disposable dust face mask Nay, my sakes Ye re not civil enough by half. More like a new policeman, if ye weren t such a Guy Fawkes in that finery. Be off, said I, and take your bird with you. What if I won t go I ll make you Ye darsen t touch me. Daren t I Ye darsen t. 272 I dare. Try. Are you going Noa. I only pushed him. He struck first. He s bigger than me, but he s a bigger coward, and I d got him down in the middle of the stage, and had given him something to bawl about, before I became conscious that the curtain was up. I only realised it then, because civil, stupid Fred, arrived at the left wing, panting and gasping Measter Bayard Here s a young wood owl for ye. As he spoke, it escaped him, fluff and feathers flying in the effort, and squawking, plunging, and fluttering, made wildly for the darkest corner of the stage, just as Lettice ran on the mechanical mouse in front. Bernard rose, and shook off everything, and Cocky went into screaming hysterics above which I now heard the thud of Uncle Patrick s crutch, and the peals upon peals of laughter with which our audience greeted my long planned spectacle of a Happy Family Our Irish uncle is not always nice. He teases 273 and mocks, and has an uncertain temper. But one goes to him in trouble. I went next morning to pour out my woes, and defend myself, chemical mask home depot and complain of the others. I spoke seriously about Lettice. It is not pleasant for a fellow to have a sister who grows up peculiar, as I believe Lettice will. Only the Sunday before, I told her she would be just the sort of woman men hate, and she said she didn t care and I said she ought to, for women were made for men, and the Bible says so and she said grandmamma said that every soul was made for God and its own final good. She was in a high falutin mood, and said she wis.
Disposable Dust Face Mask day that this wistful dignity had won the schoolmaster s heart, had never known a care, wanted a meal, or had any thing whatever demanded of him but to sit comfortably at home and watch with a broken hearted countenance for the schoolmaster s return from the labors which supported them both. The sunshine made Rufus sleepy, but he kept valiantly watchful, propping himself against the garden tools which stood in the corner. Flowers and vegetables for eating were curiously mixed in the little garden that lay about Master Swift s cottage. Not a corner was wasted in it, and a thick hedge of sweet peas formed a fragrant fence from the outer world. Rufus was nodding, when he heard face mask for infection control a footstep. He pulled himself up, but he did not wag his tail, for the step was not the schoolmaster s. It was Jan s. Rufus growled slightly, and Jan stood disposable dust face mask outside, and called, Master Swift He and Rufus both paused and listened, but the schoolmaster did not appear. Then Rufus came out and smelt Jan exhaustively, and excepting a slight flavor of being acquainted with cats, to whom Rufus objected, he smelt well. Rufus wagged his tail, Jan patted him, and they sat down to wait for the master. The clock in the old square towered church had disposable dust face mask struck a quarter past four when Master Swift came down the lane, and Rufus disposable dust face mask rushed out to meet him. Though Rufus told him in so many barks that there was a stranger within, and that, as he smelt respectable, he had allowed him to wait, the schoolmaster was startled by the sight of Jan. Why, it s the little pig minder said he. On which Jan s face crimsoned, and tears welled up in his black eyes. I bean t a pig minder now, Master Swift, said he. And how s that Has Master Salter turned ye off I gi ed him notice said Jan, indignantly. But I shan t mind pigs no more, Master Swift. And why not, Master Skymaker Don t ee laugh, sir, said Jan. Master Salter he laughs. What s pigs for but to be killed says he. But I axed him not to kill the little black un with the white spot on his ear. It be such a nice pig, sir, such a very nice pig And the tears flowed copiously down Jan s cheeks, whilst Rufus looked abjectly depressed. It would follow me anywhere, and come when I called, Jan continued. I told Master Salter it be most as good as a dog, to keep the rest disposable dust face mask together. But a says tis the fattest, and ull be disposable dust face mask the first to kill. And then I telled him to find another boy to mind his pigs, for I couldn t look un in the face now, and know twas to be killed next month, not that one with the white spot on his ear. It do be such a very nice pig Rufus licked up the tears as they fell over Jan s smock, and the schoolmaster took Jan in and comforted him. Jan dried his eyes at last, and helped to prepare for tea. The old man made some very.bon, which he also restored and, finally, a tiny pocket or bag of what had been cream coloured satin, embroidered disposable dust face mask with small bunches of heartsease, and which was aromatic with otto of roses. Awkwardly, and somewhat slowly, he drew out of this a small locket, in the centre of which was some unreadable legend in cabalistic looking character, and which blazed with the finest diamonds. Heaven wear n95 mask alone knows the secret of that gem, or the struggle with which the priest yielded it. He put it into Antoine s hand, talking as he did so partly to himself and partly to the gaoler. We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. The diamonds are of the finest, Antoine, and will sell for much. The blessing of a dying priest upon you if you do kindly, and his curse if you do ill to this poor child, whose home was my home in better days. And for 150 the locket it is but a remembrance, and to remember is not difficult As the last observation was not addressed to Antoine, so also he did nose and mouth mask near me not hear it. He was discontentedly watching the body of the Viscount, whom he consented to help, but with genuine weak mindedness consented ungraciously. How am I to get him there Monsieur le Cur sees that he cannot stand upon his feet. Monsieur le Cur smiled, and stooping, picked his old pupil up in his arms as if he had been a baby, and bore him to one of the doors. You must come no further, said Antoine, hastily. Ingrate muttered the priest in momentary anger, and then, ashamed, he crossed himself, and pressing the young nobleman to his bosom with the last gush of earthly affection that he was to feel, he kissed his senseless face, spoke a benediction to ears that could not hear it, and laid his burden down. God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, be with thee now and in the dread hour of death. Adieu we shall meet hereafter. The look of pity, the yearning of rekindled love, the struggle of silenced memories passed from his face and left a shining calm foretaste of the perpetual Light and the eternal Rest. 151 Before he reached the other prisoners, the large thumb had found its old place in the little book, the lips formed the old old words but it might almost have been said of him already, that his spirit was with the God who gave it. As for Monsieur the Viscount, it was perhaps well that he was not too sensible of his position, for Antoine got him down the flight of stone steps that led to the cell by the simple process of dragging him by the heels. After a similar fashion he crossed the floor, and was deposited on a pallet the gaoler then emptied a broken pitcher of water over his face, disposable dust face mask and locking the door securely, hurried back to his charge. When Monsieur the Viscount came to his senses he raised himself an.