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Riding Home From Mess
In 1854, General Barter, C.B., was a subaltern in the 7...

The Diary Of Mr Poynter
The sale-room of an old and famous firm of book aucti...

The Thing At Nolan
To the south of where the road between Leesville an...

Poor Mary The Maid Of The Inn
Who is she, the poor maniac, whose wildly fix'd e...

A Wireless Message
In the summer of 1896 Mr. William Holt, a wealthy m...

Keeping His Promise
It was eleven o'clock at night, and young Marriott wa...

The Creaking Stair
A lady very well known to myself, and in literary socie...

The Benighted Traveller And Haunted Room
A gentleman was benighted, while travelling alone, in...

The Dead Valley
I have a friend, Olof Ehrensvaerd, a Swede by birth, ...

'talks' With Mr Stead
...





Ii






Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow;
(This--all this--was in the olden
Time long ago)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odour went away.





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