{"product_id":"2940014584869","title":"GHOST STORIES OF AN ANTIQUARY","description":"CONTENTS\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePART 1: GHOST STORIES OF AN ANTIQUARY\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  Canon Alberic's Scrap-book\u003cbr\u003e  Lost Hearts\u003cbr\u003e  The Mezzotint\u003cbr\u003e  The Ash-tree\u003cbr\u003e  Number 13\u003cbr\u003e  Count Magnus\u003cbr\u003e  'Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad'\u003cbr\u003e  The Treasure of Abbot Thomas\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePART 2: MORE GHOST STORIES\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  A School Story\u003cbr\u003e  The Rose Garden\u003cbr\u003e  The Tractate Middoth\u003cbr\u003e  Casting the Runes\u003cbr\u003e  The Stalls of Barchester Cathedral\u003cbr\u003e  Martin's Close\u003cbr\u003e  Mr Humphreys and his Inheritance\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e       *       *       *       *       *\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePART 1: GHOST STORIES OF AN ANTIQUARY\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e       *       *       *       *       *\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf anyone is curious about my local settings, let it be recorded that St\u003cbr\u003eBertrand de Comminges and Viborg are real places: that in 'Oh, Whistle,\u003cbr\u003eand I'll Come to You' I had Felixstowe in mind. As for the fragments of\u003cbr\u003eostensible erudition which are scattered about my pages, hardly anything\u003cbr\u003ein them is not pure invention; there never was, naturally, any such book\u003cbr\u003eas that which I quote in 'The Treasure of Abbot Thomas'. 'Canon Alberic's\u003cbr\u003eScrap-book' was written in 1894 and printed soon after in the _National\u003cbr\u003eReview_, 'Lost Hearts' appeared in the _Pall Mall Magazine_; of the next\u003cbr\u003efive stories, most of which were read to friends at Christmas-time at\u003cbr\u003eKing's College, Cambridge, I only recollect that I wrote 'Number 13' in\u003cbr\u003e1899, while 'The Treasure of Abbot Thomas' was composed in the summer of\u003cbr\u003e1904.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eM. R. JAMES\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e       *       *       *       *       *\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCANON ALBERIC'S SCRAP-BOOK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSt Bertrand de Comminges is a decayed town on the spurs of the Pyrenees,\u003cbr\u003enot very far from Toulouse, and still nearer to Bagnères-de-Luchon. It\u003cbr\u003ewas the site of a bishopric until the Revolution, and has a cathedral\u003cbr\u003ewhich is visited by a certain number of tourists. In the spring of 1883\u003cbr\u003ean Englishman arrived at this old-world place--I can hardly dignify it\u003cbr\u003ewith the name of city, for there are not a thousand inhabitants. He was a\u003cbr\u003eCambridge man, who had come specially from Toulouse to see St Bertrand's\u003cbr\u003eChurch, and had left two friends, who were less keen archaeologists than\u003cbr\u003ehimself, in their hotel at Toulouse, under promise to join him on the\u003cbr\u003efollowing morning. Half an hour at the church would satisfy _them_, and\u003cbr\u003eall three could then pursue their journey in the direction of Auch. But\u003cbr\u003eour Englishman had come early on the day in question, and proposed to\u003cbr\u003ehimself to fill a note-book and to use several dozens of plates in the\u003cbr\u003eprocess of describing and photographing every corner of the wonderful\u003cbr\u003echurch that dominates the little hill of Comminges. In order to carry out\u003cbr\u003ethis design satisfactorily, it was necessary to monopolize the verger of\u003cbr\u003ethe church for the day. The verger or sacristan (I prefer the latter\u003cbr\u003eappellation, inaccurate as it may be) was accordingly sent for by the\u003cbr\u003esomewhat brusque lady who keeps the inn of the Chapeau Rouge; and when he\u003cbr\u003ecame, the Englishman found him an unexpectedly interesting object of\u003cbr\u003estudy. It was not in the personal appearance of the little, dry, wizened\u003cbr\u003eold man that the interest lay, for he was precisely like dozens of other\u003cbr\u003echurch-guardians in France, but in a curious furtive or rather hunted and\u003cbr\u003eoppressed air which he had. He was perpetually half glancing behind him;\u003cbr\u003ethe muscles of his back and shoulders seemed to be hunched in a continual\u003cbr\u003enervous contraction, as if he were expecting every moment to find himself\u003cbr\u003ein the clutch of an enemy. The Englishman hardly knew whether to put him\u003cbr\u003edown as a man haunted by a fixed delusion, or as one oppressed by a\u003cbr\u003eguilty conscience, or as an unbearably henpecked husband. The\u003cbr\u003eprobabilities, when reckoned up, certainly pointed to the last idea; but,\u003cbr\u003estill, the impression conveyed was that of a more formidable persecutor\u003cbr\u003eeven than a termagant wife.","brand":"SAP","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47080292090096,"sku":"2940014584869","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940014584869","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}