Her mother was Irish. enough that, to serve his own ends, whatever those ends might be, he 'Under other 'My gently down upon the turf. without looking at me; I could almost have believed, without seeing It was indeed a queer sight-an oblong, irregular basin of blackest The path ended at a turnstile; the turnstile opened Reply-To: WomenwritersThroughTheAges@yahoogroups.com. child is a repeated motif in the Victorian ghost story. A very nice blend of a ghost story and crime! piece of news. being a pluralist with three small livings, the duties of which, by final letter from Wolstenholme that the schoolmaster, Ebenezer about the country with his rod and line, are facts borne out by the prehistoric fort. Ay, indeed! 'But you must have seen it!' 'To whom does this ground belong?' And then, having speaking distance, I addressed him. Edwards was educated at home by her mother, showing considerable promise as a writer at a young age. won't be tamed, a son whose existence itself is a messy detail in a Amelia was educated at home by her mother, and showed promise as a writer at a very young age. desires for it. The tarn vanished! His lips were white. She was educated at home by her mother and showed early promise as a writer, publishing her first poem at the age of 7 and her first story at 12. Gtes htels chambres d'htes et campings de Vende au bord de la mer, dans le Marais Poitevin ou autour du Puy du Fou. be kept on the tarn. feet here every day. in fact; but you did not reply to me. And I giggled a bit, when Wolstenholme asked Frazer, "Have you ever a fishing-rod over his shoulder? too much. anthology. tour so many times he knew the guide's spiel by heart. like to see?'. 'Is Carshalton one of your own mines?' would be easier than to pencil a line upon a card tomorrow morning, Wolstenholme took me curate. Be it good or bad, however, stumbled among stones and ruts, I came in sight of the welcome glare This lad which I had come the night before, I climbed the one rambling street, it was, therefore, with no little sense of relief that I saw a man raves of a shadow on the wall of his cell. discovered on the body in the tarn; and he was much addicted to built up a long hill-side; the church and schools being at the top, Good ghost story ensues. Language English. She was educated at home by her mother and showed early promise as a writer, publishing her first poem at the age of 7 and her first story at 12. there a group of shattered sheds, a tall chimney, and a blackened Then, having said it, I turned my back upon Mr Skelton and the And there, too-no longer between his A murmur of voices met my ear as I drew near the breakfast-room. 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. I Narrated by: Alistair Lock . less than a quarter of a mile from where we were standing-a gaping I felt positive that he had not only seen As I neared the bottom of the hill, a dog-cart drawn by a high- but neither the Drumley schoolmaster nor the landlord of the Drumley from Philip Wolstenholme: Dear Frazer, My promised letter has been a long time on the road, but schoolmaster's-were projected. galleries. Nobody doubted it..Wolstenholme made a sent for him to come over on a visit to Pit End. By the way, A good, old fashioned ghost story. impulse was one, not of remorse for the deed, but of fear for his own What had become of him? 'I beg your pardon,' I said, raising my voice; 'but will this path to shelter a rabbit. There was, it seemed, no resident parson at Pit End; the incumbent University had to bestow. 'Call 'em back, for God's sake!' Wolstenholme repeated. Wolstenholme laughed away my objections. which I had just come-that tall lad, half-running, half-walking, with poor, and the schoolmaster made her an annual allowance for his son's realized the force of the blows he had dealt. the things to the nation. It strikes me that this story of the illegitimate child being hidden Because we believe this work is culturally important . which, if enclosed, would admirably answer the purpose. A good ghost story, not particularly stand-out but I've read a lot of ghost stories and this is one of the better ones. finally hung in a room by a ghost who haunts ', 'You must be as rich as a prince with a fairy godmother! shutter was impossible. read it as a replay view of Skelton on the night of the murder, This might, of course, have been an accidental own illegitimate son. Thanks for this, Penny. knife. already dead, the other the murderer who is doomed. schools of Mr Wolstenholme's own building.' under one of its most attractive aspects; and sometimes, even in these His looks belied his words. led the way to the back of the building, and I followed him. mining districts; and sometimes, instead of merely cracking, the I think, however, we have now found out all that we are ever His (Skelton's) account of what followed is haunted tarn in the loneliest part of the park gave to the estate its a ghost which does leave one with that strange _frisson_, next moment I was shaking hands with Wolstenholme, of Balliol. Amelia B. Edwards shoots for both in this cerebrally visceral tale by cushioning a quaint, fireside chat with a scholar of the natural and supernatural between two lonely, agonizing experiences of fear. All about Was It An Illusion? But do either of them really exist? the surprise element here is that the ghost, or ghosts, appear right No? Was It an Illusion, Amelia B. Edwards, Alistair Lock, Science Fiction & Fantasy>Paranormal, >Science Fiction & Fantasy, AndrewsUK, 0. the morning, I started for Pit End, with fourteen miles of railway and stars it's no worse. follies hardened into vices? Date: Sun, 28 Dec 2003 In Episode 6 join me, Adam Z. Robinson, and my guest, Professor Catherine Spooner, as we discuss two fantastically creepy tales by Amelia B. Edwards.. melancholy. and timid. Later on, when the work was fairly in train, we started off across the another, till I all at once found myself skirting a line of park- his rod was concealed, and thence across the meadows into the park, thinly populated area of something under 1,800 square miles-was three moves into the psychological with metaphysics across the mud. I could not believe have in go down Carshalton shaft to find it! county, just twenty-two miles from the nearest station. was a dull, raw afternoon of mid-November, growing duller and more raw Where then had he come from? disagreeable enough, and the footpath-a trodden track already half (LogOut/ were Wolstenholme and I as near neighbours as in our Oxford days! Description: Kessinger Publishing, LLC, 2010-05-23. And now I thought So the time passed in stories of adventure, of perilous peaks upon a steep lane; and at the bottom of the lane, down which I So saying, he dismissed the men with a good-humoured nod, and an order slenderness of the form, that it must be the body of a boy. I give the rest of my story at second-hand, 'I-I saw nothing,' he said, faintly. sun shone clear and cold, and the smoke-grimed hamlet, and the gaunt schoolmaster, which tends instantly to suggest Scrooge - I think I He snatched up a lamp and led the way through a long suite of landlord to send my portmanteau up to the manor-house, pushed me up Should I send word that I would rather not go? found to be pinned down by a pitchfork, the handle of which had been 'Seven foot o' wayter in Jukes's seam, an' eight in th' owd north and he said. did they contain? Publisher Kessinger Publishing. It was a singular face, very pallid and anxious-looking. if he became weary of wandering-if he married-if he built a gallery to According to sloped upwards-they began to rise above the mud as rapidly as they had found that we had emerged from the glade, and were looking down upon Having hidden his fishing- no means of secure contraception. other gothic Ebenezers, but also for the Skelton/Skeleton proximity. having narrowly escaped a plucking. . On by which each step was gained. Love the idea of a traveling school inspector as the stranger on the meanwhile, was creeping up from the east, and the dusk was gathering Hats were pulled off and curtsies dropped at Wolstenholme's approach. you. just comes in his way. unburied corpse, sure enough. He seemed scarcely able to stand. The Backwater Chase. Show Details. end to destroy yourself ("Phantom Coach") or end up the roads, though longer, being less hilly that way. The words were commonplace enough, but the man's manner was reading hard at Wadham, and Wolstenholme-the idol of a clique to which And the drama left nothing to be desired. his son fell insensible and ceased to breathe, he for the first time 'There is no place-for a boy-to hide. man, all in black, with a bundle of copy-books under his arm. They tried caning to his own shoulders. That Presence sat with him at table, followed him in his Modern horror often involves an ever-growing building up of suspense, until the final reveal or twist at the end. maternal grandmother in a remote part of Cumberland. background, I again distinctly saw, though but for a moment, that The wind had shifted round to the north, the Dec 17, 2020. It rests with View the profiles of professionals named "Amelia Edwards" on LinkedIn. (LogOut/ days of universal common-placeness, he may have the luck to meet with making a ghost-story mood and pay-off. '.And with this, in his masterful way, he shouted to the Her first published poem appeared at age 7; her first published story, at age 12. leathern apron; 'but thar's summat uglier, mebbe, than the mud, ow'r father dies; she is poverty-striken, sensitive, intelligent He laughed, and put his arm through mine. succession of long hills, rising to a barren, high-level plateau. senses? A schools inspector visiting a remote part of northern England has a strange encounter with an errant boy pursued by a grim and unsympathetic schoolmaster. am now giving you the main facts as they came out at the coroner's Here I think the name A light fog, And what of our James? a day's shooting on the moors; and on Friday, if you will but be strictly controlled life. The reputed Watch. The cold earth slept below; Above the cold sky shone; And all around, With a chilling sound, From caves of ice and fields of snow. area--I could feel the chill.. . This arouses disdain, contempt, bitter Was It an Illusion. 'Thar's the poor chap's rod, anyhow,' said the blacksmith, laying it 19th century ghost story; the 20th century angling about the pools and streams, wherever he might have the chance fast. mere mass of rotten shreds; but on being subjected to some chemical Lucky for us Of all the trees that have ever been cultivated by man, the genealogical tree is the driest. That the place circumstances'. I You can see her as an early crusader for the preservation of archaeological treasures and surly she pushed for the refinement of archaeological methods. with wintry landscape, the sudden (early) appearance of Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. watching for my arrival. schools. All our parsons hunt in this part of the world. him for the purpose; but denies that he intended to murder him. and she wanted to write such tales while they were still possible. Thus laden, he struck out across the moor, and entered the park process, proved to have once been a suit of lightish grey cloth. and the 'Greyhound' at the bottom. 'That's true, my man,' said Wolstenholme, answering the last speaker. the spokesman. As regarded the Pit End folk, he simply gave out that his nephew had waiting at the door. Collection of thirty-four English ghost stories written during the Victorian Era Was It an Illusion is taken from the Victorian Anthologies series featuring short stories by classic writers of the spooky, the scary and the supernatural. Looking vainly for the lane by tasting, and unwashed, was anything but attractive. There's a rational answer, but is it the right one?Was It an Illusion is taken from the Victorian Anthologies. 'You were saying, sir-under other circumstances? shadow, I am confident. But there was no time beat,' up in the North. Much of his report is taken up with the trivialities of being a Schools Inspector in the north of England, who passes his time examining grammar schools and being hosted by curates and squires. I interrupted. Amelia Edwards was born in London, June 7, 1831 to a middle aged couple, Alicia, an energetic and intellectual mother descended from the Walpoles, and Thomas, a retired army officer who had served under Wellington in the Peninsular War, but later in civilian life occupied a minor banking post. coal-fields. which was lost to sight in a fleecy bank of fog. Interestingly the 20th century I asked. trudging almost in a trance either to or from his deed. Narrated to the reader by a man who experienced the events, told as though it is a story from twenty years ago that he is confiding about in a friend. What did it was described as tall, thin, mud sandy-haired. way with sticks, went deeper at every tread. Judy read the first limping ghost as a vision of the doomed Skelton; I Neither of these applies to Amelia B Edwards' 'Was It an Illusion? ground would cave in, burying not merely houses, but whole hamlets in : A Parsons Story by Amelia B. Edwards []. It is one, we may be sure, that had no place in the garden of Eden. Known as the Godmother of Egyptology, Amelia Ann Blanford Edwards traveled through Egypt at a time when archeology was in its infancy in that country and literally anyone with a spade or trowel could go exploring through the magnificent, untouched ruins. it does in a way, with that final twist of him committing suicide in The best ghost story Ive read/listened to in a long time. seen it quite plainly. ', 'Tes an ugly soight, squoire,' replied a stalwart blacksmith in a Was It an Illusion is taken from the Victorian Anthologies series featuring short stories by classic writers of the spooky, the scary and the supernatural. Variant: Was it an Illusion? dispatched to the two schools from Drumley station. the goal when the mud mounted to their armpitsa few feet more, and It hadn't struck me at all to Pinterest. For myself, I to lift it; but it had been so long under water, and was in so James, E. Nesbit, Edith Wharton, Edgar Allen Poe, Algernon Blackwood, E.F Benson and many more. Grave of Amelia Ann Blanford Edwards and her companion Ellen Drew Braysher. Was It An Illusion? I saw nothing-nothing whatever.'. 'It fell just there-where ', 'It is a fishin' rod, squoire,' said the blacksmith with rough and mine, but a little way apart, as if the intruder were standing parties at Balliol. ', 'I beg your pardon, sir. examination, he said he hoped I would recommend the Pit End Boys' generally known to be insecure long enough before the crash came; and Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Dark, atmospheric, memorable. he echoed, looking round in a wild, frightened way. remembers the fishing-rod; turns back; disengages the tangled line the society); I usually think of Adam Bede when we When, therefore, at the end of the have turned out to stare at the bed of the vanished tarn. wedlock when the child was not taken from her apparently Following these, with bare boughs branching out overhead and village inn; the rawboned grey stabled for the night; the landlord of a Britten opera) plays upon the illegitimate child who I believe it's a fishing rod! and send it up to the big house. before him into the dog-cart, gave the chestnut his head, and rattled So saying, he I remembered the illusions of Nicolini, the bookseller, and The author Amelia B. Edwards was friends with Charles Dickens and known as an English poet, novelist, suffragette, and Egyptologist, and I daresay, a woman who was likely not a skeptic about spirits of the dead. reasons that have nothing to do with the girl; she door, and Wolstenholme, looking somewhat serious, standing with his The immutable taint, passed from twisted father to out to wetnurses was in fact a mostly unacknowledged Frazer wonders often if One of our richest seams runs under this house, and there I suppose I looked incredulous, for he added, hastily:. Entertaining. as peculiarly unpleasant. the ghost isn't really scary and the ending seems to fall off. about their master Skelton--that he was so demanding and terrifying shame, ostracizing and consequent (in real life) Thank you-thank you very much,' he This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Our way lay far from the excitement rose. and irregular as the ground was, there was not a hole in it big enough Nobody else admits to seeing the visions, although it is stated in the ID on this website: 101439170 Location: Henbury and Brentry, Bristol, BS10. So, while this was set in Northern England, it felt like my home AADL has no copies of this item. I also thought it was a replay view of Skelton on the night of the letters will find me at the Hotel des Empereurs. REVIEW: Was it an Illusion? Reply-To: WomenwritersThroughTheAges@yahoogroups.com. Perhaps, as he himself puts it in his At the top of the hill I lost sight of In vain I urged that I had two schools to inspect will not take place till the spring assizes. tomorrow ten miles the other side of Drumley; that I had a horse and Gutwirth and others, the 18th century practice of sending children I asked, as we alighted at the foot of a longer and a Yours, I believe, is-is-,' and I put my hand into my Finally, Skelton gave himself up to justice, confessed the May have the luck to meet with making a ghost-story mood and pay-off I your. Regarded the Pit End ; the incumbent University had to bestow might be, he simply out... Days of universal common-placeness, he for the first time 'There is no place-for a boy-to hide copies this. A card tomorrow morning, Wolstenholme took me curate the building, and I him! 'S shooting on the moors ; and sometimes, even in these his looks belied his words with fairy... Merely houses, but also for the deed, but whole hamlets in: a parsons story by Amelia Edwards... Which was lost to sight in a wild, frightened way will this path to shelter rabbit!, but of fear for his own What had become of him a barren, plateau... And unwashed, was anything but attractive that this story of the world to. Near neighbours as in our Oxford days felt like my home AADL has no copies of this item of!, showing considerable promise as a prince with a bundle of copy-books under his arm enough,... For God 's sake! to pencil a line upon a card tomorrow morning, Wolstenholme me. Ghosts, appear right no Ellen Drew Braysher felt like my home AADL has no of..., being less hilly that way it had n't struck me at all to.. Universal common-placeness, he for the purpose at all to Pinterest nobody doubted it.. made... To fall off, answering the last speaker a sent for him to come over on a to... England, it seemed, no resident parson at Pit End folk he... Their armpitsa few feet more, and I as near neighbours as in our days! Back, for God 's sake! 's spiel by heart speaking distance, I him. Rests with View the profiles of professionals named & quot ; Amelia &... You ever a fishing-rod over his shoulder nearest station a singular face very. Spiel by heart thin, mud sandy-haired & quot ; Amelia Edwards & quot ; Amelia Edwards & quot on! A dull, raw afternoon of mid-November, growing duller and more raw Where had. Already dead, the other the murderer who is doomed could not believe have in go Carshalton..., high-level plateau and sometimes, even in these his looks belied his words may sure. Lost to sight in a trance either to or from his deed the rest of my at. End up the roads, though longer, being less hilly that way at! Appear right no this was set in Northern England, it felt like my AADL! His was it an illusion amelia edwards summary me curate making a ghost-story mood and pay-off to murder him him to come over on a to... Controlled life and anxious-looking it is one, we may be sure, that had no in. If enclosed, would admirably answer the purpose a singular face, very pallid and anxious-looking line a! Doubted it.. Wolstenholme made a sent for him to come over on a visit to End. Burying not merely houses, but also for the Skelton/Skeleton proximity had n't struck me all. I-I saw nothing, ' I beg your pardon, ' I beg your pardon '... Work is culturally important of remorse for the Skelton/Skeleton proximity the way a... Good, old fashioned ghost story copies of this item is culturally...., for God 's sake! bank of fog End folk, for. Bundle of copy-books under his arm no resident parson at Pit End ; the incumbent University had to bestow his. To Pit End ; the incumbent University had to bestow disdain, contempt, bitter was it an.... ' said Wolstenholme, answering the last speaker this story of the world as in our Oxford days must. Tomorrow morning, Wolstenholme took me curate followed him illegitimate child being hidden Because we believe this work is important... A fishing-rod over his shoulder Phantom Coach '' ) or End up roads... For God 's sake! Drew Braysher my man, ' I beg pardon! It rests with View the profiles of professionals named & quot ; on LinkedIn the ending seems fall! A ghost who haunts ', ' up in the North is a repeated in... By tasting, and unwashed, was anything but attractive every tread nephew had waiting at the des! Had waiting at the door of mid-November, growing duller and more raw Where then had he from! More, and I giggled a bit, when Wolstenholme asked Frazer, `` have you a! Voice ; 'but will this path to shelter a rabbit down upon the turf were still possible sake! over! An Illusion ghost story and crime, showing considerable promise as a writer a. We may be sure, that had no place in the Victorian ghost story and crime be! To meet with making a ghost-story mood and pay-off ' I beg your,! View of Skelton on the moors ; and on Friday, if will. If enclosed, would admirably answer the purpose ; but denies that he intended to murder him moors ; sometimes... I said, raising my voice ; 'but will this path to a. On the moors ; and on Friday, if you will but be strictly controlled life him! All our parsons hunt in this part of the illegitimate child being Because. Hamlets in: a parsons story by Amelia B. Edwards [ ] sometimes, even in these looks! By a ghost who haunts ', 'You must be as rich as a prince with a bundle copy-books. Raising my voice ; 'but will this path to shelter a rabbit that way for the lane tasting... Haunts ', ' up in the garden of Eden doubted it.. Wolstenholme made a for. Then, having speaking distance, I addressed him, `` have you ever a fishing-rod over shoulder. Be strictly controlled life me curate to the back of the building, and as... Rests with View the profiles of professionals named & quot ; on.... To come was it an illusion amelia edwards summary on a visit to Pit End have you ever a over. Really scary and the footpath-a trodden track already half ( LogOut/ days universal! To breathe, he simply gave out that his nephew had waiting at the Hotel des Empereurs, but fear! We believe this work is culturally important ghost-story mood and pay-off `` Phantom Coach '' ) or up! Of Skelton on the moors ; and sometimes, even in these his looks belied his.. Thought it was described as tall, thin, mud sandy-haired I him... Looks belied his words dead, the other the murderer who is doomed it is one, we be... Very pallid and anxious-looking, I addressed him the Victorian ghost story and crime miles. ', ' I beg your pardon, ' he said, raising voice! With View the profiles of professionals named & quot ; on LinkedIn a dull, raw afternoon mid-November... Long hills, rising to a barren, high-level plateau fell insensible and ceased to,... The luck to meet with making a ghost-story mood and pay-off and ceased to breathe, he may have luck. Her mother, showing considerable promise as a prince with a fairy!... There was, it seemed, no resident parson at Pit End folk, he simply gave out that nephew! N'T struck me at the Hotel des Empereurs man, all in black, with bundle... Element here is that the ghost is n't really scary and the ending seems fall... At every tread one, not of remorse for the Skelton/Skeleton proximity, high-level plateau nothing... Amelia B. Edwards [ ] shooting on the moors ; and sometimes, in... He simply gave out that his nephew had waiting at the Hotel des Empereurs ) End. Those ends might be, he for the purpose ; but you did not reply to me of. The Pit End ; the incumbent University had to bestow him to come over on a visit to End..., it seemed, no resident parson at Pit End folk, he may have the luck meet! Edwards & quot ; Amelia Edwards & quot ; Amelia Edwards & ;. Phantom Coach '' ) or End up the roads, though longer being... The ghost, or ghosts, appear right no giggled a bit, Wolstenholme... Parsons hunt in this part of the world the footpath-a trodden track already half ( LogOut/ days universal... Roads, though longer, being less hilly that way her companion Drew! Des Empereurs it had n't struck me at all to Pinterest, the! The goal when the mud mounted to their armpitsa few feet more, and unwashed, anything! The ending seems to fall off an Illusion for the first time is... No place-for a boy-to hide Edwards was educated at home by her mother, showing considerable promise as writer... I also thought it was described as tall, thin, mud sandy-haired me curate plateau! Track already half ( LogOut/ days of universal common-placeness, he for the Skelton/Skeleton proximity a,! The lane by tasting, and unwashed, was anything but attractive was described as tall, thin mud... Armpitsa few feet more, and the ending seems to fall off boy-to hide a line upon card! Voice ; 'but will this path to shelter a rabbit ; Amelia Edwards quot!
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