Author : Edward Lear
Release : 2013-09
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Book Rating : 112/5 ( reviews)

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Journals of a Landscape Painter in Albania, and C - read free eBook in online reader or directly download on the web page. Select files or add your book in reader. Download and read online ebook Journals of a Landscape Painter in Albania, and C write by Edward Lear. This book was released on 2013-09. Journals of a Landscape Painter in Albania, and C available in PDF, EPUB and Kindle. This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1851 edition. Excerpt: ... snatched off and waved his cap in the air--his shining head was closely shaved, except one glossy raven tress at least three feet in length, the very rafters rang again to the frantic harmony;--"Bo, bo-bo-bo, bo-bo-bo, bo-bo-bo, bobobo, BO '."--the last "BO!" uttered like a pistolshot, and followed by an unanimous yell. Fatigue is so good a preparation for rest, that after this savage mirth had gone on for two or three hours, I fell fast asleep, and heard no more that night. October 23. I am awaked an hour before daylight by the most piercing screams. Hark!--they are the loud cries of a woman's voice, and they come nearer--nearer--close to the house. For a moment, the remembrance of last nighfs orgies, the strange place I was lying in, and the horrid sounds by which I was so suddenly awakened, made a confusion of ideas in my mind which I could hardly disentangle, till, lighting a phosphorus match and candle, I saw all the Albanians in the room, sitting bolt upright, and listening with ugly countenances to the terrible cries below. In vain I ask the cause of them; no one replies; but one by one, and Anastasio the last, all descend the ladder, leaving me in a mystery which does not make the state of things more agreeable; for though I have not "supped full of horror" like Macbeth, yet my senses are nevertheless " cooled to hear so dismal a night shriek." I do not remember ever to have heard so horrid and deadly a sound as that long shriek, perpetually repeated with a force and sharpness not to be recalled without pain; and what made it more horrible, was the distinct echo to each cry from the lonely rocks around this hideous place. The cries, too, were exactly similar, and studiedly monotonous in measured wild grief. After a short time, ...