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303
The Book of Dreams and Ghosts
·
Andrew Lang
282
THE
BLACK
DOG
AND
THE
THUMBLESS
HAND
[Some
years
ago
I
published
in
a
volume
of
tales
called
The
Wrong
Paradise,
a
paper
styled
"My
Friend
the
Beach-comber".
This
contained
genuine
adventures
of
a
kinsman,
my
oldest
and
most
intimate
friend,
who
has
passed
much
of
his
life
in
the
Pacific,
mainly
in
a
foreign
colony,
and
in
the
wild
New
Hebrides.
My
friend
is
a
man
of
education,
an
artist,
and
a
student
of
anthropology
and
ethnology.
Engaged
on
a
work
of
scientific
research,
he
has
not
committed
any
of
his
innumerable
adventures,
warlike
or
wandering,
to
print.
The
following
"yarn"
he
sent
to
me
lately,
in
a
letter
on
some
points
of
native
customs.
Of
course
the
description
of
the
Beach-comber,
in
the
book
referred
to,
is
purely
fictitious.
The
yarn
of
"The
Thumbless
Hand"
is
here
cast
in
a
dialogue,
but
the
whole
of
the
strange
experience
described
is
given
in
the
words
of
the
narrator.
It
should
be
added
that,
though
my
friend
was
present
at
some
amateur
seances,
in
a
remote
isle
of
the
sea,
he
is
not
a
spiritualist,
never
was
one,
and
has
no
theory
to
account
for
what
occurred,
and
no
belief
in
"spooks"
of
any
description.
His
faith
is
plighted
to
the
theories
of
Mr.
Darwin,
and
that
is
his
only
superstition.
The
name
of
the
principal
character
in
the
yarn
is,
of
course,
fictitious.
The
real
name
is
an
old
but
not
a
noble
one
in
England.]
"Have
the
natives
the
custom
of
walking
through
fire?"
said
my
friend
the
Beach-comber,
in
answer
to
a
question
of
mine.
"Not
that
I
know
of.
In
fact
the
soles
of
their
feet
are
so
thick-skinned
that
they
would
think
nothing
of
it."
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