The Algernon Blackwood Collection
Algernon Blackwood was an English author best known for his ghost stories.Blackwood's short stories The Willows and The Wendigo were very influential in the genre.This collection includes the following: NOVELS: The Centaur Jimbo: A Fantasy The Human Chord A Prisoner in Fairyland The Extra Day Julius LeVallon The Bright Messenger The Wave: An Egyptian Aftermath The Promise of Air The Garden of Survival SHORT STORIES: The Willows The Wendigo The Damned The Man Whom the Trees Loved The Insanity of Jones The Man Who Found Out The Glamour of Snow Sand A Physical Invasion Ancient Sorceries The Nemesis of Fire Secret Worship The Camp of the Dog A Victim of Higher Space The Empty House A Haunted Island A Case of Eavesdropping Keeping His Promise With Intent to Steal The Wood of the Dead Smith: An Episode in a Lodging-House A Suspicious Gift The Strange Adventures of a Private Secretary in New York Skeleton Lake: An Episode in Camp The Regeneration of Lord Ernie The Sacrifice A Descent into Egypt Wayfarers The Tryst The Touch of Pan The Wings of Horus Initiation A Desert Episode The Other Wing The Occupant of the Room Cain's Atonement An Egyptian Hornet By Water H. S. H.
A Bit of Wood Transition The Tradition The Wolves of God Chinese Magic Running Wolf First Hate The Tarn of Sacrifice The Valley of the Beasts The Call Egyptian Sorcery The Decoy The Man Who Found Out The Empty Sleeve Wireless Confusion Confession The Lane That Ran East and West 'Vengeance is Mine'
The Algernon Blackwood Collection
"THE FRIENDLY AND FLOWING SAVAGE, who is he? Is he waiting for civilization, or is he past it, and mastering it?"
"We find ourselves today in the midst of a somewhat peculiar state of society, which we call Civilization, but which even to the most optimistic among us does not seem altogether desirable. Some of us, indeed, are inclined to think that it is a kind of disease which the various races of man have to pass through....
"While History tells us of many nations that have been attacked by it, of many that have succumbed to it, and of some that are still in the throes of it, we know of no single case in which a nation has fairly recovered from and passed through it to a more normal and healthy condition. In other words, the development of human society has never yet (that we know of) passed beyond a certain definite and apparently final stage in the process we call Civilization; at that stage it has always succumbed or been arrested."
-EDWARD CARPENTER, Civilization: Its Cause and Cure
O'Malley himself is an individuality that invites consideration from the ruck of commonplace men. Of mingled Irish, Scotch, and English blood, the first predominated, and the Celtic element in him was strong. A man of vigorous health, careless of gain, a wanderer, and by his own choice something of an outcast, he led to the end the existence of a rolling stone. He lived from hand to mouth, never quite growing up. It seemed, indeed, that he never could grow up in the accepted sense of the term, for his motto was the reverse of nil admirari , and he found himself in a state of perpetual astonishment at the mystery of things. He was forever deciphering the huge horoscope of Life, yet getting no further than the House of Wonder, on whose cusp surely he had been born. Civilization, he loved to say, had blinded the eyes of men, filling them with dust instead of vision.
An ardent lover of wild outdoor life, he knew at times a high, passionate searching for things of the spirit, when the outer world fell away like dross and he seemed to pass into a state resembling ecstasy. Never in cities or among his fellow men, struggling and herded, did these times come to him, but when he was abroad with the winds and stars in desolate places. Then, sometimes, he would be rapt away, caught up to see the tail-end of the great procession of the gods that had come near. He surprised Eternity in a running Moment.
For the moods of Nature flamed through him- in him-like presences, potently evocative as the presences of persons, and with meanings equally various: the woods with love and tenderness; the sea with reverence and magic; plains and wide horizons with the melancholy peace and silence as of wise and old companions; and mountains with a splendid terror due to some want of comprehension in himself, caused probably by a spiritual remoteness from their mood.
The Cosmos, in a word, for him was psychical, and Nature's moods were transcendental cosmic activities that induced in him these singular states of exaltation and expansion. She pushed wide the gateways of his deeper life. She entered, took possession, dipped his smaller self into her own enormous and enveloping personality.
He possessed a full experience, and at times a keen judgment, of modern life; while underneath, all the time, lay the moving sea of curiously wild primitive instincts. An insatiable longing for the wilderness was in his blood, a craving vehement, unappeasable. Yet for something far greater than the wilderness alone-the wilderness was merely a symbol, a first step, indication of a way of escape. The hurry and invention of modern life were to him a fever and a torment. He loathed the million tricks of civilization. At the same time, being a man of some discrimination at least, he rarely let himself go completely. Of these wilder, sim