Along the sides of the drove lay two solid banks of white, with a narrow passage clear between them. . . . at the far end I ‘perceived’ a number of figures
A New Year's Eve Ghost Story
“Why, I wonder,” said one of those before the fire, “do we associate ghosts with Christmas?”
I shall never forget that night as long as I live.
‘It’s really a very good piece of work. . . The light is admirably managed, it seems to me, and the figure, though it’s rather too grotesque, is somehow very impressive.’
There is probably a smell of roasted chestnuts and other good comfortable things all the time, for we are telling Winter Stories— Ghost Stories, or more shame for us—round the Christmas fire...
"Stay, then; stay and brave the Curse; we may yet be happy!"
I was determined not to lose my night’s rest—ghosts or no ghosts
"Let me hear your story: I have a passion for these sort of horrors; and the time, the season, and the place we are in, are all admirably suited for a narrative of the supernatural school."
“So great is my love, that not in this world, nor with this mortal body, can I give it fit and full expression.”
“It was the seventeenth of December,” I said, “the day before my uncle’s birthday.”
Being the Deposition of Mr. Audenried's Valet.
