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303
The Book of Dreams and Ghosts
·
Andrew Lang
284
"What
on
earth
are
you
talking
about?
I
can
understand
a
man
attended
by
black
dogs
that
nobody
sees
but
himself.
The
Catholics
tell
it
of
John
Knox,
and
of
another
Reformer,
a
fellow
called
Smeaton.
Moreover,
it
is
common
in
delirium
tremens.
But
you
say
Bolter
didn't
see
the
dogs?"
"No,
not
so
far
as
he
told
me,
but
I
did,
and
other
fellows,
when
with
Bolter.
Bolter
was
asleep;
he
didn't
see
anything.
Also
the
Hand,
which
was
a
good
deal
worse.
I
don't
know
if
he
ever
saw
it.
But
he
was
jolly
nervous,
and
he
had
heard
of
it."
The
habits
of
the
Beach-comber
are
absolutely
temperate,
otherwise
my
astonishment
would
have
been
less,
and
I
should
have
regarded
all
these
phenomena
as
subjective.
"Tell
me
about
it
all,
old
cock,"
I
said.
"I'm
sure
I
told
you
last
time
I
was
at
home."
"Never;
my
memory
for
yarns
is
only
too
good.
I
hate
a
chestnut."
"Well,
here
goes!
Mind
you
I
don't
profess
to
explain
the
thing;
only
I
don't
think
I
did
wrong
in
telling
the
young
woman,
for,
however
you
account
for
it,
it
was
not
nice."
"A
good
many
years
ago
there
came
to
the
island,
as
a
clerk,
un
nomme
Bolter,
English
or
Jew."
"His
name
is
not
Jewish."
"No,
and
I
really
don't
know
about
his
breed.
The
most
curious
thing
about
his
appearance
was
his
eyes:
they
were
large,
black,
and
had
a
peculiar
dull
dead
lustre."
"Did
they
shine
in
the
dark?
I
knew
a
fellow
at
Oxford
whose
eyes
did.
Chairs
ran
after
him."
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