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Wylder's Hand is a novel from Gothic and mystery writer Sheridan Le Fanu. "There was a little fair-haired child playing on the ground before the steps as I whirled by. The old rector had long passed away; the shorts, gaiters, and smile -- a phantom; and nature, who had gathered in the past, was providing for the future. The pretty mill-road, running up through Redman's Dell, dank and dark with tall romantic trees, was left behind in another moment; and we were now traversing the homely and antique street of the little town, with its queer shops and solid steep-roofed residences. Up Church-street I contrived a peep at the old gray tower where the chimes hung; and as we turned the corner a glance at the "Brandon Arms." How very small and low that palatial hostelry of my earlier recollections had grown! There were new faces at the door. It was only two-and-twenty years ago, and I was then but eleven years old. A retrospect of a score of years or so, at three-and-thirty, is a much vaster affair than a much longer one at fifty. The whole thing seemed like yesterday; and as I write, I open my eyes and start and cry, "can it be twenty, five-and-twenty, aye, by Jove! five-and-thirty, years since then?" How my days have flown! And I think when another such yesterday shall have arrived, where shall I be?"
Wylder's Hand is a novel from Gothic and mystery writer Sheridan Le Fanu. "There was a little fair-haired child playing on the ground before the steps as I whirled by. The old rector had long passed away; the shorts, gaiters, and smile -- a phantom; and nature, who had gathered in the past, was providing for the future. The pretty mill-road, running up through Redman's Dell, dank and dark with tall romantic trees, was left behind in another moment; and we were now traversing the homely and antique street of the little town, with its queer shops and solid steep-roofed residences. Up Church-street I contrived a peep at the old gray tower where the chimes hung; and as we turned the corner a glance at the "Brandon Arms." How very small and low that palatial hostelry of my earlier recollections had grown! There were new faces at the door. It was only two-and-twenty years ago, and I was then but eleven years old. A retrospect of a score of years or so, at three-and-thirty, is a much vaster affair than a much longer one at fifty. The whole thing seemed like yesterday; and as I write, I open my eyes and start and cry, "can it be twenty, five-and-twenty, aye, by Jove! five-and-thirty, years since then?" How my days have flown! And I think when another such yesterday shall have arrived, where shall I be?"
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Due to publisher restrictions the library cannot purchase additional copies of this title, and we apologize if there is a long waiting list. Be sure to check for other copies, because there may be other editions available.
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Bahrain, Egypt, Hong Kong, Iraq, Israel, Jordan, Kuwait, Lebanon, Libya, Mauritania, Morocco, Oman, Palestine, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, the Sudan, the Syrian Arab Republic, Tunisia, Turkey, the United Arab Emirates, and Yemen
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