The Mountains of Fears E-Book

Henry C. Rowland

• Herausgeber: Publisher s11838
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

The Mountains of Fears is a short story written by Henry C.(Cottrell) Rowland an American pulp fiction writer. This book is one of many works by Henry C. Rowland which first published in 1905. And now republish in ebook format. We believe this work is culturally important in its original archival form. While we strive to adequately clean and digitally enhance the original work, there are occasionally instances where imperfections such as blurred or missing pages, poor pictures or errant marks may have been introduced due to either the quality of the original work. Despite these occasional imperfections, we have brought it back into print as part of our ongoing global book preservation commitment, providing customers with access to the best possible historical reprints. We appreciate your understanding of these occasional imperfections, and sincerely hope you enjoy reading this book.

Leseprobe

The Mountains of Fears

By

Henry C. Rowland

Table of Contents

THE MOUNTAIN OF FEARS

OIL AND WATER

THE SHEARS OF ATROPOS

ROSENTHAL THE JEW

TWO SAVAGES

TWO GENTLEMEN

THE BAMBOULA

INTO THE DARK

“I see that you go in for heads a bit yourself,” said Lynch.

TO

DOCTOR LEYDEN

WHOSE ILLUMINATING PERSONALITY

AND STRANGE EXPERIENCES I HAVE

VENTURED TO INTERPRET IN THE

HOPE THAT WHEN HE RETURNS FROM

HIS QUEST IN THE “FORBIDDEN LAND”

HE WILL PARDON MY PRESUMPTION.

THE MOUNTAIN OF FEARS

“DOCTOR,” said my shipmate, Dr. Leyden, “have you ever made any especial study of nervous diseases—central nervous diseases—morbid conditions resulting from a derangement of the central cells?”

I told him that I had done only such work in this branch as a general practice would require, but that I had observed some few cases of especial interest during a military surgical service in the East, and proceeded to cite one or two instances of mental vagaries resulting from gunshot wounds in the head.

Leyden leaned both elbows on the taffrail and listened restlessly. Our little ship swashed through the short sling of the Spanish Main, the Pole star gleaming ahead, the Southern Cross blazing astern, and all about the white, flashing crests of the phosphorescent sea. Usually Leyden was a good listener, but this night he seemed impatient, restive, to such an extent that I finally paused, annoyed, for nothing is so irritating as lack of attention to a solicited reply.

“Ach! But those cases are in the line of the ordinary!” he exclaimed.

“Pardon me,” I replied, “but the last case I have given was distinctly out of the ordinary.”

“I am awkward, Doctor,” said Leyden, apologetically. “I mean that the relations of cause and effect follow the usual course—the histological changes in the cell produced impaired function of the organ and these primary changes were the result of trauma. But have you ever had occasion to observe the reverse of this condition—the action of the organ on the center—like a nightmare, where one has the liver poisoning the central cells——”