The Fiend's Delight

CHAPTER I.

PREFACE the atrocities constituting this cold collation of diabolisms are taken mainly from various california journals they are cast in the american language and liberally enriched with unintelligibility if they shall prove incomprehensible on this side of the atlantic the reader can pass to the other side at a moderately extortionate charge in the pursuit of my design i think i have killed a good many people in one way or another but the reader will please to observe that they were not people worth the trouble of leaving alive besides i had the interests of my collaborator to consult in writing as in compiling i have been ably assisted by my scholarly friend mr satan and to this worthy gentleman must be attributed most of the views herein set forth while the plan of the work is partly my own its spirit is wholly his and this illustrates the ascendency of the creative over the merely imitative mind i shall be content with the prophet dodd-grill chapter one Chapter 2 of The Fiend's Delight by Ambrose Bierce This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.

some fiction one more unfortunate it was midnight a black wet midnight in a great city by the sea the church clocks were booming the hour in tones half smothered by the marching rain when an officer of the watch saw a female figure glide past him like a ghost in the gloom and make directly toward a wharf the officer felt that some dreadful tragedy was about to be enacted and started in pursuit through the sleeping city sped those two dark figures like shadows athwart a tomb out along the deserted wharf to its farther end fled the mysterious fugitive the guardian of the night vainly endeavoring to overtake and calling to her to stay soon she stood upon the extreme end of the pier in the scourging rain which lashed her fragile figure and blinded her eyes with other tears than those of grief the night wind tossed her trusses wildly in the air and beneath her bare feet the writhing billows struggled blackly upward for their prey at this fearful moment the panting officer stumbled and fell he was badly bruised he felt angry and misanthropic instead of rising to his feet he sat doggedly up and began chafing his abraded shin the desperate woman raised her wide arms heavenward for the final plunge and the voice of the gale seemed like the dread roaring of the waters in her ears as down down she went in imagination to a black death among the spectral piles she backed a few paces to secure an impetus cast a look upon the stony officer with a wild shriek sprang to the awful verge and came near losing her balance recovering herself with an effort she turned her face again to the officer who was clawing about for his missing club having secured it he started to leave in a cosy vine and bowered cottage lives and suffers a blighted female nothing being known of her past history she is treated by her neighbors with marked respect she never speaks of the past but it has been remarked that whenever the stalwart form of a certain policeman passes her door her clean delicate face assumes an expression which can only be described as frozen profanity chapter two chapter three of the fiend's delight some fiction the strong young man of collusa professor kramer conducted a sideshow in the wake of a horse opera and the same sojourned at collusa enters unto the sideshow a powerful young man of the collusa sort and would see his money's worth Blandly and with conscious pride, the professor directs the young man's attention to his fine collection of living snakes.

lithely the black snake uncoils in his sight voluminously the bloated boa convolves before him all-horned the cobra exalts his hooded head and the spanning jaws fly open quivers and chitters the tail of the cheerful rattlesnake silently slips out the forked tongue and is silently absorbed the fangless adder wraps up the leg of the professor lays clammy coils about his neck and pokes a flattened head curiously into his open mouth the young man of calusa is interested his feelings transcend expression not a syllable breathes he but with a deep-drawn sigh he turns his broad back upon the astonishing display and goes thoughtfully forth into his native wild half an hour later might have been seen that brawny collison emerging from an adjacent forest with a strong faggot then this colluso man unto the appalled professor thus there ain't no good place here in collusi for fittin out serpents to be subtler than all the beasts o the field there's imity atween our seed and their seed and it shall brose their head and with a singleness of purpose and a rapt attention to detail that would have done credit to a lean porker garnering the strewn kernels behind a deaf old man who plants his field with corn he started in upon that reptilian host and exterminated it with a careful thoroughness of extermination chapter three CHAPTER IV OF THE Fiend's Delight by Ambrose Bierce.

This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.

If they shall prove incomprehensible on this side of the Atlantic, the reader can pass to the other side at a moderately extortionate charge.

in the pursuit of my design i think i have killed a good many people in one way or another but the reader will please to observe that they were not people worth the trouble of leaving alive besides i had the interests of my collaborator to consult in writing as in compiling i have been ably assisted by my scholarly friend mr satan and to this worthy gentleman must be attributed most of the views herein set forth while the plan of the work is partly my own its spirit is wholly his and this illustrates the ascendency of the creative over the merely imitative mind i shall be content with the prophet dodd-grill chapter one Chapter 2 of The Fiend's Delight by Ambrose Bierce This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.

some fiction one more unfortunate it was midnight a black wet midnight in a great city by the sea the church clocks were booming the hour in tones half smothered by the marching rain when an officer of the watch saw a female figure glide past him like a ghost in the gloom and make directly toward a wharf the officer felt that some dreadful tragedy was about to be enacted and started in pursuit through the sleeping city sped those two dark figures like shadows athwart a tomb out along the deserted wharf to its farther end fled the mysterious fugitive the guardian of the night vainly endeavoring to overtake and calling to her to stay soon she stood upon the extreme end of the pier in the scourging rain which lashed her fragile figure and blinded her eyes with other tears than those of grief the night wind tossed her trusses wildly in the air and beneath her bare feet the writhing billows struggled blackly upward for their prey at this fearful moment the panting officer stumbled and fell he was badly bruised he felt angry and misanthropic instead of rising to his feet he sat doggedly up and began chafing his abraded shin the desperate woman raised her wide arms heavenward for the final plunge and the voice of the gale seemed like the dread roaring of the waters in her ears as down down she went in imagination to a black death among the spectral piles she backed a few paces to secure an impetus cast a look upon the stony officer with a wild shriek sprang to the awful verge and came near losing her balance recovering herself with an effort she turned her face again to the officer who was clawing about for his missing club having secured it he started to leave in a cosy vine and bowered cottage lives and suffers a blighted female nothing being known of her past history she is treated by her neighbors with marked respect she never speaks of the past but it has been remarked that whenever the stalwart form of a certain policeman passes her door her clean delicate face assumes an expression which can only be described as frozen profanity chapter two chapter three of the fiend's delight some fiction the strong young man of collusa professor cramer conducted a sideshow in the wake of a horse opera and the same sojourned at collusa enters unto the sideshow a powerful young man of the collusa sort and would see his money's worth Blandly and with conscious pride, the professor directs the young man's attention to his fine collection of living snakes.

lithely the black snake uncoils in his sight voluminously the bloated boa convolves before him all-horned the cobra exalts his hooded head and the spanning jaws fly open quivers and chitters the tail of the cheerful rattlesnake silently slips out the forked tongue and is silently absorbed the fangless adder wraps up the leg of the professor lays clammy coils about his neck and pokes a flattened head curiously into his open mouth the young man of calusa is interested his feelings transcend expression not a syllable breathes he but with a deep-drawn sigh he turns his broad back upon the astonishing display and goes thoughtfully forth into his native wild half an hour later might have been seen that brawny collison emerging from an adjacent forest with a strong faggot then this colluso man unto the appalled professor thus there ain't no good place you're in collusi for fittin out serpents to be subtler than all the beasts o the field there's imity atween our seed and their seed and it shall brose their head and with a singleness of purpose and a rapt attention to detail that would have done credit to a lean porker garnering the strewn kernels behind a deaf old man who plants his field with corn he started in upon that reptilian host and exterminated it with a careful thoroughness of extermination chapter three CHAPTER IV OF THE FIENDS' DELIGHT some fiction the glad new year a poor broken-down drunkard returned to his dilapidated domicile early on new year's morn the great bells of the churches were jarring the creamy moonlight which lay above the soggy undercrust of mud and snow as he heard their joyous peals announcing the birth of a new year his heart smote his old waistcoat like a remorseful sledge-hammer why soliloquized he should not those bells also proclaim the advent of a new resolution i have not made one for several weeks and it s about time i ll swear off he did it and at that moment a new light seemed to be shed upon his pathway his wife came out of the house with a tin lantern he rushed frantically to meet her she saw the new and holy purpose in his eye she recognized it readily she had seen it before they embraced and wept then stretching the wreck of what had once been a manly form to its full length he raised his eyes to heaven and one hand as near there as he could get it and there in the pale moonlight with only his wondering wife and the angels and a cow or two for witnesses he swore he would from that moment abstain from all intoxicating liquors until death should they part Then looking down and tenderly smiling into the eyes of his wife, he said, Is it not well, dear one? With a face beaming all over with a new happiness, she replied, Indeed it is, John.

Let's take a drink.

Another and longer pause, during which the ticking of the clock became painful in the intensity of the silence, it seemed to be measuring.

Jane, what's off? why your boots to be sure replied the petulant woman losing patience i pulled them off when you first lay down again the prostrate gentleman was still then when the candle of the waking housewife had burned low down to the socket and the wasted flame on the hearth was expiring bluely in convulsive leaps the head of the family resumed jane who said anything about boots there was no reply apparently none was expected for the man immediately rose lengthened himself out like a telescope and continued jane i must have smothered that brat and i'm fernal sorry what brat asked the wife becoming interested why ours our little isaac i saw you put him in bed last week and i've been laying right on to him what under the sun do you mean asked the good wife we haven't any brat and never had and his name should not be isaac if we had i believe you are crazy the man balanced his bulk rather unsteadily looking hard into the eyes of his companion and triumphantly emitted the following conundrum jane look a-here if we haven't any What enthunders the use of being married? Pending the solution of the momentous problem, its author went out and searched the night for a whiskey skin.

passing down commercial street one fine day i observed a lady standing alone in the middle of the sidewalk with no obvious business there but with apparently no intention of going on she was outwardly very calm and seemed at first glance to be lost in some serene philosophical meditation a closer examination however revealed a peculiar restlessness of attitude and a barely noticeable uneasiness of expression the conviction came upon me that the lady was in distress and as delicately as possible i inquired of her if such were not the case intimating at the same time that i should esteem it a great favour to be permitted to do something the lady smiled blandly and replied that she was merely waiting for a gentleman it was tolerably evident that i was not required and with a stammered apology i hastened away passed clear around the block came up behind her and took up a position on a dry good spot it lacked an hour to dinner-time and i had leisure the lady maintained her attitude but with momently increasing impatience which found expression in singular wave-like undulations of her lithe figure and an occasional unmistakable contortion several gentlemen approached but were successively and politely dismissed suddenly she experienced a quick convulsion strode sharply forward one step stopped short had another convulsion and walked rapidly away approaching the spot i found a small iron grating in the sidewalk and between the bars two little boot heels riven from their kindred souls and unsightly with snaggy nails heaven only knows why that entrapped female had declined the proffered assistance of her species why she had elected to ruin her boots in preference to having them removed from her feet upon that day when the grave shall give up its dead and the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed i shall know all about it but i want to know now chapter x of the fiend's delight by ambrose bierce a tale of two feet my friend zacharias was accustomed to sleep with a heated stone at his feet for the feet of mr zacharias were as the feet of the dead one night he retired as usual and it chanced that he awoke some hours afterwards with a well-defined smell of burning leather making it pleasant for his nostrils mrs zacharias said he nudging his snoring spouse i wish you would get up and look about i think one of the children must have fallen into the fire the lady who from habit had her own feet stowed comfortably away against the warm stomach of her lord and master declined to make the investigation demanded and resumed the nocturnal melody mr zacharias was angered for the first time since she had sworn to love honor and obey this female was in open rebellion he decided upon prompt and vigorous action he quietly moved over to the back side of the bed and braced his shoulders against the wall drawing up his sinewy knees to a level with his breast he placed the soles of his feet broadly against the back of the insurgent with the design of propelling her against the opposite wall there was a strangled snort then a shriek of female agony and the neighbors came in mutual explanations followed and mr zacharias walked the streets of grass valley next day as if he were treading upon apes worth a dollar a dozen chapter ten CHAPTER XI THE SKULL OF HER PIG one of thomas jefferson's maxims is as follows when angry count ten before you speak if very angry count a hundred i once knew a man to square his conduct by this rule with a most gratifying result jacob sculliver a man prone to bad temper one day started across the fields to visit his father whom he generously permitted to till a small corner of the old homestead he found the old gentleman behind the barn bending over a barrel that was canted over at an angle of seventy degrees and from which issued a cloud of steam sculliver pear was evidently scalding one and of a dead pig an operation essential to the loosening of the hair that the corpse may be plucked and shaven good morning father said mr sculliver approaching and displaying a long cheerful smile got a nice rooster there the elder gentleman's head turned slowly and steadily as upon a swivel until his eyes pointed backward then he drew his arms out of the barrel and finally revolving his body till it matched his head he deliberately mounted upon the supporting block and sat down upon the sharp edge of the barrel in the hot steam then he replied good mornin jacob fine mornin a little warm in spots i should imagine returned the son do you find that a comfortable seat why yes it's good enough for an old man he answered in a slightly husky voice and with an uneasy gesture of the legs don't make much difference in this life where we set if we're good does it this world ain't heaven anyhow i s'pose there i do not entirely agree with you rejoined the young man composing his body upon a stump for a philosophical argument i don't neither added the old one absently screwing about on the edge of the barrel and constructing a painful grimace there was no argument but a silence instead suddenly the aged party sprang off that barrel with exceeding great haste as if one who has made up his mind to do a thing and is impatient of delay the seat of his trousers was steaming grandly the barrel upset and there was a great wash of hot water leaving a deposit of spotted pig in life that pig had belonged to mr sculliver the younger mr sculliver the younger was angry but remembering jefferson's maxim he rattled off the number ten finishing up with you thief then perceiving himself very angry he began all over again and ran up to one hundred as a monkey scampers up a ladder as the last syllable shot from his lips he planted a dreadful blow between the old man's eyes with a shriek that sounded like you son of a sea-cook mr sculliver the elder went down like a stricken beef and his son often afterward explained that if he had not counted a hundred and so given himself time to get thoroughly mad he did not believe he could have ever licked the old man chapter CHAPTER XII MR. HUNKER'S MOURNER strolling through lone mountain cemetery one day my attention was arrested by the inconsolable grief of a granite angel bewailing the loss of jacob hunker aged sixty-seven the attitude of utter dejection the look of matchless misery upon that angel's face sank into my heart like water into a sponge i was about to offer some words of condolence when another man similarly affected got in before me and laying a rather unsteady hand upon the celestial soldier tipped back a very senile hat and pointing to the name on the stone remarked with a most exact care and scrupulous accent friend of yours perhaps been dead long there was no reply he continued very worthy man that jake knew him up in tuolumne good feller jake no response the gentleman settled his hat still farther back and continued with a trifle less exactness of speech i say young woman jake was my part in the mines goo feller i preserved the last sentence was shot straight into the celestial ear at short range it produced no effect the gentleman's patience and rhetorical vigilance were now completely exhausted he walked round and planting himself defiantly in front of the vicarious mourner he stuck his hands doggedly into his pockets and delivered the following rebuke like the desultory explosions of a bunch of damaged firecrackers It won't do, old girl.