Sunday, April 22, 2018

Music and Ancient Mythology by Carl Engel 1876


Music and Mythology by Carl Engel 1876

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It is a suggestive fact that several nations in different parts of the world possess an ancient tradition, according to which some harp-like instrument was originally derived from the water.

The Scandinavian god Odin, the originator of magic songs, is mentioned as the ruler of the sea; and as such he had the name of Nikarr. In the depth of the sea he played the harp with his subordinate spirits, who occasionally came up to the surface of the water to teach some favoured human being their wonderful instrument.

Vainamoinen, the divine player on the Finnish kantele, according to the Kalewala, the old national æpos of the Finns, constructed the first instrument of this kind of fish-bones.

Hermes, it will be remembered, made his lyre, the chelys, of a tortoise-shell.

In Hindu mythology the god Nareda invented the vina, a five-stringed instrument, considered as the principal national instrument of the Hindus, which has also the name kach'-hapi, signifying a tortoise. Moreover nara denotes in Sanskrit "water," and Narada or Nareda "the Giver of Water."

Like Nareda, so Nereus and his fifty daughters, the Nereides, mentioned in Greek mythology, were renowned for their musical accomplishments.

Again, there is an old tradition, preserved in Swedish and Scottish national ballads, of a skilful harper who constructs his instrument out of the bones of a young girl drowned by a wicked woman. Her fingers he uses for the tuning screws, and her golden hair for the strings. The harper plays, and his music kills the murderess. A similar story is told in the old Icelandic national songs, and the same tradition has been found still preserved in the Faroe Islands, as well as in Norway and Denmark.

May not the agreeable impression produced by the rhythmical flow of the waves and the soothing murmur of running water have led various nations, independently of each other, to the widespread conception that they obtained their favourite instrument of music originally from the water? Or is this notion traceable to a common source, dating from a pre-historic age—perhaps from the early period when the Aryan race is surmised to have diffused its[Pg 79] lore through various countries? Or did it originate in the old belief of the world with all its charms and delights having arisen from a chaos in which water constituted the predominant element?

Howbeit, Nareda, the Giver of Water, was evidently also the ruler of the clouds; and Odin had his throne in the skies. Indeed, many of the musical water-spirits appear to have been originally considered as rain-deities. Their music may, therefore, be regarded as derived from the clouds rather than from the sea. In short, the traditions respecting spirits and water are not in contradiction to, but rather confirmatory of the belief that music is of heavenly origin.

The Germans have a curious story in which an incident occurs calling to mind Arion's famous adventure. It will be remembered that Arion, after having gained by his musical talents great riches, was, during a voyage, in imminent danger of being murdered by the sailors, who coveted the treasures he was carrying with him. When he found that his death was decided upon, he asked permission to strike once more his beloved lyre. And so feelingly did he play, that the fishes surrounding the ship took compassion. He threw himself into the water, and was carried ashore by a dolphin.

As regards Trusty Ferdinand, the hero of the German story, we are told that he, seeing a fish struggling near the shore and gasping for water, takes it by the tail and restores it to its element. Whereupon the fish, in gratitude, puts its head out of the water, and presents Trusty Ferdinand with a flute. "Shouldst thou ever stand in need of my assistance," says the fish, "only play upon this flute, and I will come and help thee." Sometime afterwards Trusty Ferdinand embarks on a voyage to a distant country. While on board a ship he has the misfortune to let drop into the sea a precious ring, upon the possession of which depends the happiness of a beautiful princess as well as his own happiness. He takes up his flute; as soon as he begins to play, the fish appears and reaches back to him the precious ring.
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A Tribute to my Beloved Dog, Teddy

The Printer's Devil by Maximilian J. Rudwin 1921


[The term “Printer’s Devil” is usually accounted for by the fact that Aldus Manutius, the great Venetian printer, employed in his printing shop (about 1485) a black slave, who was popularly thought to be an imp of Satan. This expression may have a deeper significance. It may owe its origin to the fact that Fust, the inventor of the printing press, was believed to have connections with the Evil One. It will be remembered that during the Middle Ages and, in Catholic countries, even for a long time afterwards every discovery of science, every invention of material benefit to man, was believed to have been secured by a compact with the devil. Our ancestors deemed the human mind incapable, without the aid of the Evil One, of producing anything beyond their own comprehension. The red letters which Fust used at the close of his earliest printed volumes to give his name, with the place and date of publication, were interpreted in Paris as indications of the diabolical origin of the works so easily produced by him. (M. D. Conway, Demonology and Devil-Lore.) Sacred days, as is well known, are printed in the Catholic calendar with red letters, and the devil has also employed them in books of magic. This is but another instance of the mimicry by “God’s Ape” of the sanctities of the Church.

In the infernal economy, where a strict division of labour prevails, the printer’s devil is the librarian of hell. The books over which he has charge must be as numerous as the sands on the sea-shore. For nearly every book written without priestly command was associated in the good old days with the devil. The assertion that Satan hates nothing so much as writing or printer’s ink apparently is a very great calumny. He has often even been accused of stealing manuscripts in order to prevent their publication. The prince of darkness naturally rather shuns than courts inquiry. On one occasion Joseph Görres, the defender of Catholicism, complained that the devil, provoked by his interference in Satanic affairs (he is the author of Die christliche Mystik, which is a rich source for diabolism, diabolical possession and exorcism), had stolen one of his manuscripts; it was, however, found some time afterwards in his bookcase, and the devil was completely exonerated.

The concluding paragraph of this story is especially interesting in the light of the present agitation for unbound books and a eulogy of the old Franklin Square Library.]

And now....The Printer's Devil by Maximilian J. Rudwin 1921

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As I was sitting in my armchair and preparing an essay on the Devil in literature, sleep overpowered me; the pen fell from my hands, and my head reclined upon the desk. I had been thinking so much about the Devil in my waking hours, that the same idea pursued me after I had fallen asleep. I heard a gentle rap at the door, and having bawled out as usual, “Come in,” a little gentleman entered, wrapped in a large blue cloth cloak, with a slouched hat, and goggles over his eyes. After bowing and scraping with considerable ceremony, he took off his hat, and threw his cloak over the back of a chair, when I immediately perceived that my visitor was no mortal. His face was hideously ugly; the skin appearing very much like wet paper, and the forehead covered with those cabalistic signs whose wondrous significance is best known to those who correct the press. On the end of his long hooked nose there seemed to me to be growing, like a carbuncle, the first letter of the alphabet, glittering with ink and ready to print. I observed, also, that each of his fingers and toes, or rather claws, was in the same manner terminated by one of the letters of the alphabet; and as he slashed round his tail to brush a fly off his nose, I noticed that the letter Z formed the extremity of that useful member. While I was looking with no small astonishment and some trepidation at my extraordinary visitor, he took occasion to inform me that he had taken liberty to call, as he was afraid I might forget him in the treatise which I was writing—an omission which he assured me would cause him no little mortification. “In me,” says he, “you behold the prince and patron of printers’ devils. My province is to preside over the hell of books; and if you will only take the trouble to accompany me a little way, I will show you some of the wonders of that world.” As my imagination had lately been much excited by perusing Dante’s Inferno, I was delighted with an adventure which promised to turn out something like his wonderful journey, and I readily consented to visit my new friend’s dominions, and we sallied forth together. As we pursued our way, my conductor endeavoured to give me some information respecting the world I was about to enter, in order to prepare me for the wonders I should encounter there. “You must know,” remarked he, “that books have souls as well as men; and the moment any work is published, whether successful or not, its soul appears in precisely the same form in another world; either in this domain, which is subject to me, or in a better region, over which I have no control. I have power only to exhibit the place of punishment for bad books, periodicals, pamphlets, and, in short, publications of every kind.”

We now arrived at the mouth of a cavern, which I did not remember to have ever noticed before, though I had repeatedly passed the spot in my walks. It looked to me more like the entrance to a coalmine than anything else, as the sides were entirely black. Upon examining them more closely, I found that they were covered with a black fluid which greatly resembled printer’s ink, and which seemed to corrode and wear away the rocks of the cavern wherever it touched them. “We have lately received a large supply of political publications,” said my companion; “and hell is perfectly saturated with their maliciousness. We carry on a profitable trade upon the earth, by retailing this ink to the principal political editors. Unfortunately, it is not found to answer very well for literary publications, though they have tried it with considerable success in printing the London Quarterly and several of the other important reviews.”

The cavern widened as we advanced, and we came presently into a vast open plain, which was bounded on one side by a wall so high that it seemed to reach the very heavens. As we approached the wall I observed a vast gateway before us, closed up by folding doors. The gates opened at our approach, and we entered. I found myself in a warm sandy valley, bounded on one side by a steep range of mountains. A feeble light shone upon it, much like that of a sick chamber, and the air seemed confined and stifling like that of the abode of illness. My ears were assailed by a confused whining noise, as if all the litters of new-born puppies, kittens with their eyes unopened, and babes just come to light, in the whole world, were brought into one spot, and were whelping, mewing, and squalling at once. I turned in mute wonder to my guide for explanation; and he informed me that I now beheld the destined abode of all still-born and abortive publications; and the infantine noises which I heard were only their feeble wailing for the miseries they had endured in being brought into the world. I now saw what the feebleness of the light had prevented my observing before, that the soil was absolutely covered with books of every size and shape, from the little diamond almanac up to the respectable quarto. I saw folios there. These books were crawling about and tumbling over each other like blind whelps, uttering, at the same time, the most mournful cries. I observed one, however, which remained quite still, occasionally groaning a little, and appeared like an overgrown toad oppressed with its own heaviness. I drew near, and read upon the back, “Resignation, a Novel.” The cover flew open, and the title-page immediately began to address me. I walked off, however, as fast as possible, only distinguishing a few words about “the injustice and severity of critics;” “bad taste of the public;” “very well considering;” “first effort;” “feminine mind,” &c. &c. I presently discovered a very important-looking little book, stalking about among the rest in a great passion, kicking the others out of the way, and swearing like a trooper; till at length, apparently exhausted with its efforts, it sunk down to rise no more. “Ah ha!” exclaimed my little diabolical friend, “here is a new comer; let’s see who he is;” and coming up, he turned it over with his foot so that we could see the back of it, upon which was printed “The Monikins, by the Author of, &c. &c.” I noticed that the book had several marks across it, as if some one had been flogging the unfortunate work. “It is only the marks of the scourge,” said my companion, “which the critics have used rather more severely, I think, than was necessary.” I expected, after all the passion I had seen, and the great importance of feeling, arrogance, and vanity the little work had manifested, that it would have some pert remarks to make to us; but it was so much exhausted that it could not say a word. At the bottom of the valley was a small pond of a milky hue, from which there issued a perfume very much like the smell of bread and butter. An immense number of thin, prettily bound manuscript books were soaking in this pond of milk, all of which, I was informed, were Young Ladies’ Albums, which it was necessary to souse in the slough, to prevent them from stealing passages from the various works about them. As soon as I heard what they were, I ran away with all my speed, having a mortal dread of these books.

We had now traversed the valley, and, approaching the barrier of mountains, we found a passage cut through, which greatly resembled the Pausilipo, near Naples; it was closed on the side towards the valley, only with a curtain of white paper, upon which were printed the names of the principal reviews, which my conductor assured me were enough to prevent any of the unhappy works we had seen from coming near the passage.

As we advanced through the mountains, occasional gleams of light appeared before us, and immediately vanished, leaving us in darkness. My guide, however, seemed to be well acquainted with the way, and we went on fearlessly till we emerged into an open field, lighted up by constant flashes of lightning, which glared from every side; the air was hot, and strongly impregnated with sulphur. “Each department of my dominions,” said the Devil, “receives its light from the works which are sent there. You are now surrounded by the glittering but evanescent coruscations of the more recent novels. This department of hell was never very well supplied till quite lately, though Fielding, Smollett, Maturin, and Godwin, did what they could for us. Our greatest benefactors have been Disraeli, Bulwer, and Victor Hugo; and this glare of light, so painful to our eyes, proceeds chiefly from their books.” There was a tremendous noise like the rioting of an army of drunken men, with horrible cries and imprecations, and fiend-like laughing, which made my blood curdle; and such a scrambling and fighting among the books, as I never saw before. I could not imagine at first what could be the cause of this, till I discovered at last a golden hill rising up like a cone in the midst of the plane, with just room enough for one book on the summit; and I found that the novels were fighting like so many devils for the occupation of this place. One work, however, had gained possession of it, and seemed to maintain its hold with a strength and resolution which bade defiance to the rest. I could not at first make out the name of this book, which seemed to stand upon its golden throne like the Prince of Hell; but presently the whole arch of the heavens glared with new brilliancy, and the magic name of Vivian Grey flashed from the book in letters of scorching light. I was much afraid, however, that Vivian would not long retain his post; for I saw Pelham and Peregrine Pickle, and the terrible Melmoth with his glaring eyes, coming together to the assault, when a whirlwind seized them all four and carried them away to a vast distance, leaving the elevation vacant for some other competitor. “There is no peace to the wicked, you see,” said my Asmodeus. “These books are longing for repose, and they can get none on account of the insatiable vanity of their authors, whose desire for distinction made them careless of the sentiments they expressed and the principles they advocated. The great characteristic of works of this stamp is action, intense, painful action. They have none of that beautiful serenity which shines in Scott and Edgeworth; and they are condemned to illustrate, by an eternity of contest here, the restless spirit with which they are inspired.”

While I was looking on with fearful interest in the mad combat before me, the horizon seemed to be darkened, and a vast cloud rose up in the image of a gigantic eagle, whose wings stretched from the east to the west till he covered the firmament. In his talons he carried an open book, at the sight of which the battle around me was calmed; the lightnings ceased to flash, and there was an awful stillness. Then suddenly there glared from the book a sheet of fire, which rose in columns a thousand feet high, and filled the empyrean with intense light; the pillars of flame curling and wreathing themselves into monstrous letters, till they were fixed in one terrific glare, and I read—“BYRON.” Even my companion quailed before the awful light, and I covered my face with my hands. When I withdrew them, the cloud and the book had vanished, and the contest was begun again—“You have seen the Prince of this division of hell,” said my guide.

We now began rapidly to descend into the bowels of the earth; and, after sinking some thousand feet, I found myself on terra firma again, and walking a little way, we came to a gate of massive ice, over which was written in vast letters—“My heritage is despair.” We passed through, and immediately found ourselves in a vast basin of lead, which seemed to meet the horizon on every side. A bright light shone over the whole region; but it was not like the genial light of the sun. It chilled me through; and every ray that fell upon me seemed like the touch of ice. The deepest silence prevailed; and though the valley was covered with books, not one moved or uttered a sound. I drew near to one, and I shivered with intense cold as I read upon it—“Voltaire.” “Behold,” said the demon, “the hell of infidel books; the light which emanates from them is the light of reason, and they are doomed to everlasting torpor.” I found it too cold to pursue my investigations any farther in this region, and I gladly passed on from the leaden gulf of Infidelity.

I had no sooner passed the barrier which separated this department from the next, than I heard a confused sound like the quacking of myriads of ducks and geese, and a great flapping of wings; of which I soon saw the cause. “You are in the hell of newspapers,” said my guide. And sure enough, when I looked up I saw thousands of newspapers flying about with their great wooden back-bones, and the padlock dangling like a bobtail at the end, flapping their wings and hawking at each other like mad. After circling about in the air for a little while, and biting and tearing each other as much as they could, they plumped down, head first, into a deep black-looking pool, and were seen no more. “We place these newspapers deeper in hell than the Infidel publications,” said the Devil; “because they are so much more extensively read, and thereby do much greater mischief. It is a kind of pest of which there is no end; and we are obliged to allot the largest portion of our dominions to containing them.”

We now came to an immense pile of a leaden hue, which I found at last to consist of old worn-out type, which was heaped up to form the wall of the next division. A monstrous u, turned bottom upwards formed the arch of a gateway through which we passed; and then traversed a draw-bridge, which was thrown across a river of ink, upon whose banks millions of horrible little demons were sporting. I presently saw that they were employed in throwing into the black stream a quantity of books which were heaped up on the shore. As I looked down into the stream, I saw that they were immediately devoured by the most hideous and disgusting monsters which were floundering about there. I looked at one book, which had crawled out after being thrown into the river; it was dripping with filth, but I distinguished on the back the words—Don Juan. It had hardly climbed up the bank, however, when one of the demons gave it a kick, and sent it back into the stream, where it was immediately swallowed. On the back of some of the books which the little imps were tossing in, I saw the name of—Rochester, which showed me the character of those which were sent into this division of the infernal regions.

Beyond this region rose up a vast chain of mountains, which we were obliged to clamber over. After toiling for a long time, we reached the summit, and I looked down upon an immense labyrinth built upon the plain below, in which I saw a great number of large folios, stalking about in solemn pomp, each followed by a number of small volumes and pamphlets, like so many pages or footmen watching the beck of their master. “You behold here,” said the demon, “all the false works upon theology which have been written since the beginning of the Christian era. They are condemned to wander about to all eternity in the hopeless maze of this labyrinth, each folio drawing after it all the minor works to which it gave origin.” A faint light shone from these ponderous tomes; but it was like the shining of a lamp in a thick mist, shorn of its rays, and illuminating nothing around it. And if my companion had not held a torch before me, I should not have discerned the outlines of this department of the Infernal world. As my eye became somewhat accustomed to the feeble light, I discovered beyond the labyrinth a thick mist, which appeared to rise from some river or lake. “That,” said my companion, “is the distinct abode of German Metaphysical works, and other treatises of a similar unintelligible character. They are all obliged to pass through a press; and if there is any sense in them, it is thus separated from the mass of nonsense in which it is imbedded, and is allowed to escape to a better world. Very few of the works, however, are found to be materially diminished by passing through the press.” We had now crossed the plain, and stood near the impenetrable fog, which rose up like a wall before us. In front of it was the press managed by several ugly little demons, and surrounded by an immense number of volumes of every size and shape, waiting for the process which all were obliged to undergo. As I was watching their operations, I saw two very respectable German folios, with enormous clasps, extended like arms, carrying between them a little volume, which they were fondling like a pet child with marks of doting affection. These folios proved to be two of the most abstruse, learned, and incomprehensible of the metaphysical productions of Germany; and the bantling which they seemed to embrace with so much affection, was registered on the back—“Records of a School.” I did not find that a single ray of intelligence had been extracted from either of the two after being subjected to the press. As soon as the volumes had passed through the operation of yielding up all the little sense they contained, they plunged into the intense fog, and disappeared for ever.

We next approached the verge of a gulf, which appeared to be bottomless; and there was dreadful noise, like the war of the elements, and forked flames shooting up from the abyss, which reminded me of the crater of Vesuvius. “You have now reached the ancient limits of hell,” said the demon, “and you behold beneath your feet the original chaos on which my domains are founded. But within a few years we have been obliged to build a yet deeper division beyond the gulf, to contain a class of books that were unknown in former times.” “Pray, what class can be found,” I asked, “worse than those which I have already seen, and for which it appears hell was not bad enough?” “They are American re-prints of English publications,” replied he, “and they are generally works of such a despicable character, that they would have found their way here without being republished; but even where the original work was good, it is so degenerated by the form under which it re-appears in America, that its merit is entirely lost, and it is only fit for the seventh and lowest division of hell.”

I now perceived a bridge spanning over the gulf, with an arch that seemed as lofty as the firmament. We hastily passed over, and found that the farthest extremity of the bridge was closed by a gate, over which was written three words. “They are the names of the three furies who reign over this division,” said my guide. I of course did not contradict him; but the words looked very much like some I had seen before; and the more I examined them, the more difficult was it to convince myself that the inscription was not the same thing as the sign over a certain publishing house in Philadelphia.

“These,” said the Devil, “are called the three furies of the hell of books; not from the mischief they do there to the works about them, but for the unspeakable wrong they did to the same works upon the earth, by re-printing them in their hideous brown paper editions.” As soon as they beheld me, they rushed towards me with such piteous accents and heart-moving entreaties, that I would intercede to save them from their torment, that I was moved with the deepest compassion, and began to ask my conductor if there were no relief for them. But he hurried me away, assuring me that they only wanted to sell me some of their infernal editions, and the idea of owning any such property was so dreadful that it woke me up directly.

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Friday, April 20, 2018

How They Viewed an Income Tax Over 100 Years Ago


The Income Tax, from Economic and Fiscal Facts and Fallacies By Sir Guilford Lindsey Molesworth 1909

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The income-tax is a burden for which there is absolutely no necessity—it is one that should never be used as a part of the permanent revenue of a country, but should be held in reserve against any great national emergency. It is essentially a war tax, to be abolished as soon as the emergency may have passed away. It is the height of folly to draw upon our reserves in time of peace, leaving no reserve upon which we can draw in any national emergency. It is the resource of an incompetent or unscrupulous Minister for raising revenue, and it encourages political extravagance. It is of all taxes the most unjust, unequal, and mischievous. In its direct action it falls with undue severity on some classes, and with unreasonable lightness on others. In its indirect action it is detrimental to national wealth, it tends to drive away capital, and has a pernicious effect upon our industries. It taxes the employers of labour, and indirectly bears heavily on our working classes in reduction of wages and short employment. It ought to be abolished, or, at all events, reduced to reasonable limits. Financially, there should be no difficulty in doing this by the substitution of indirect for direct taxation. The taxation of articles of luxury generally consumed would bring in a large revenue and scarcely be felt, and in that case the burden of taxation would fall almost exclusively on the wealthy.

Moreover, the income-tax is opposed to the principles of political economy.

John Stuart Mill, in discussing the income-tax, says: 'This tax, while apparently the most just of all modes of raising a revenue, is in effect more unjust than many others which are prima facie more objectionable,' and he added, 'this consideration would lead us to concur in the opinion which, until of late, has usually prevailed, that direct taxes on income should be reserved as an extraordinary resource for great national emergencies, in which the necessity of a large additional revenue overrules all objections.' He also pointed out that the real effect of a tax on profits is to diminish the capital and production of a nation, and he added, 'A tax on profits is thus, in a state of capital and accumulation like that in England, extremely detrimental to the national wealth.' Now the income-tax is essentially a tax on capital and profit.

Herbert Spencer has pointed out that:
Amongst the costs of production have to be reckoned taxes general and local; if, as in our large towns, local rates now amount to one-third of the rental or more; if the employer has to pay this, not only on his private dwelling but on his business premises, factories, warehouses, or the like, it results that the interest on his capital must be diminished by that amount, or the amount must be taken from the wages fund, or partly one and partly the other. ... If capital, not getting adequate interest, flows elsewhere and leaves labour unemployed, then it is manifest that the choice for the artizan under such conditions, lies between diminished amount of work or diminished rate of payment for it.

Lecky has also pointed out that, 'Graduated taxation, if it be excessive or frequently raised, is inevitably largely drawn from capital; it discourages its accumulation, it produces an insecurity which is fatal to its stability, and it is certain to drive great masses of it to other lands.' He also says, 'No truth in political economy is more certain than that a heavy taxation of capital, which starves industry and employment, will fall most heavily on the poor.'

Turgot, the eminent Finance Minister of France, has defined taxation as 'the art of plucking the goose without making it cry out.' The direct burden of the income-tax falls on the shoulders of a patient, law-abiding class that does not cry out under the process of plucking; but the tax is inefficient, because it fails to fulfil its intended object of helping the working classes, while indirectly, it bears more heavily upon them than on any other class. The artisan goose is not only plucked, but is having its skin taken off. Goose as it is, it feels sore, but does not realise the cause of its excoriation, and is apt to turn in blind fury on its suffering fellow goose, the overtaxed employer of labour, who, in consequence of its plucking, is unable to afford higher wages, or more employment. The artisan fails to recognise the fact that the interests of capital and labour are inseparable, and that it is to his advantage that there should be as many employers as possible to compete for his labour. There is much truth in the old saying that when employment runs after labour prices rise, but when labour runs after employment prices fall.

Macleod, in his 'Economics,' asked the question, 'If a man has not wealth himself, but only his labour to sell, what is most to his advantage? Why, of course, that there should be as many rich men as possible to compete for his labour. Nothing can be more fatal than the cry against capital, so often and so unthinkingly uttered.'

It is a prevalent fallacy to suppose that the income-tax bears only on the rich, for, taking income in the ordinary sense in which it is used, namely, employment under Schedules D and E, the report of the Inland Revenue Commissioners shows that, for one person whose income exceeds £700 a year, there are thirty whose incomes are under that amount, so that in this portion of the income-tax the burden falls chiefly on people who are struggling hard to keep their heads above water, weighed down as they are already by intolerable Imperial and Local taxation, and by the misappropriation of funds by municipal and other public bodies. But, besides these, the greatest portion of the income-tax falls on the employers of labour, and consequently, in an indirect manner, on the working classes and the poor. For example, under Schedule D, 'railways, canals, mines, gasworks, ironworks, and other industries' are assessed on a gross income of about £78,000,000, tending to increase the cost of transport and production; 'private industries, business, and trade' at about £200,000,000; 'land' at more than £50,000,000, tending to increase the ruin of agriculture, and to drive the agricultural labourers to swell the ranks of the unemployed; 'houses and buildings' at nearly £200,000,000, tending to raise rents which are already far too high, and which press very heavily upon the working men and the poor. Thus we have altogether between 75 and 80 per cent, of the total income-tax falling upon those items which are injurious to the working man.

Sir Stafford Northcote has shown that the income-tax is mischievous in inducing political laxity and extravagance, and he said: 'If we maintain the income-tax as a permanent tax, we are tempted to spend whatever it is pleasant to spend, and to take off whatever it is pleasant to take off.' He added that, by substituting the income-tax for indirect taxation, 'You have, in the past, been tolerably free in admitting new items of expenditure and very liberal in striking off taxes, but the consequence has been that a large number of sources of revenue have been brought down to a dangerously low ebb.'

The income-tax was introduced into England in 1799 by Pitt as a temporary war tax, but was repealed in 1816 by a vote which defeated the Government. Alison, commenting on this matter, said:

A greater error in finance was never committed than the introduction of the income-tax without any graduation but that arising from the amount of revenue to correct its manifold inequalities. In appearance the most equal, such a tax is in reality the most unequal of burdens, because it assesses, at the same rate, many classes whose resources are widely different. The landed proprietor, whose estate is worth 30 years' purchase of the rental at which it is assessed —the fundholder whose stock is worth 20 or 25 of the same annual rate—the merchant whose profits one year may be swallowed up by the losses of the next—the professional man whose present income is not worth five years' purchase—the young annuitant whose chance of life is as 20, and the aged spinster in whom it is not worth two, all are assessed at the same annual rate.

The tax, in consequence, falls with excessive and undue severity on one class, and with unreasonable lightness on others.

A graduated income-tax, 'voted by the many and falling on the few,' was condemned by the Supreme Court of the United States as contrary to the constitution of that country, and a violation of the liberty of the subject.

The American Economist remarks:
Federal taxation from the foundation of our Government except in time of war, or national emergency, has almost exclusively been applied to commodities and materials. It has been the policy of our national Government not to govern individuals, so far as taxation is concerned, but to leave to the various States of the Union the relation between individuals and taxing power. . . . Internal taxation is almost exclusively applied to commodities. There is a tax on spirits and tobacco from which the largest portion of internal revenue is received. The Customs tariff applies to foreign commodities and materials only. Any departure from this policy is foreign to the traditions and the policy of the United States Government. Hence our opposition to an income-tax. A tax on inheritance we believe to be impossible, because it would conflict with the rights and revenues of the various States of the Union.

In the United States no private property can be taken for public use without just compensation, and the Federal Constitution contains an invaluable provision forbidding any State to pass a law impairing the obligation of contracts.

The danger of partial or highly graduated taxation, voted by the many and falling on the few, has been in a great measure guarded against by the clauses in the Constitution providing that representatives and direct taxes shall be apportioned amongst the States according to their population. . . . The judgment of the Supreme Court condemning the income-tax, in 1894, brought into clear relief the full force and meaning of these provisions.

The position of the House of Representatives is widely different from that of our House of Commons. It is a body in which the Ministers do not sit, and which has no power of making or destroying a Ministry. It is confronted with a Senate, which does not rest on the democratic basis of mere numbers, but which can exercise a much more real restraining power than the House of Lords. It is restricted by a written Constitution under the protection of the Supreme Court, which makes it impossible for it to violate contracts, or to infringe any fundamental liberty of the people. In this respect it is far superior to our faulty system, which enables a temporary majority, sometimes obtained by trickery and misrepresentation, to tyrannise over the minority and to pass unconstitutional and mischievous measures.

Mr. Gladstone denounced the income-tax in unmeasured terms, as 'being on a scale far exceeding all other taxes put together, a demoralising tax, and a dangerous tax, vexatious to trade and industry.' It was introduced by him as a war tax, which he said 'could not be retained as permanent and ordinary finance of the country,' and he pledged himself to the reduction of it from 7d. to 6d. after two years, then to 3d. after two years more, and finally to abolish it altogether after the expiration of three years. When in opposition he vehemently urged the Government then in power to adhere to the pledges which he had given when in office, and he protested indignantly that 'to break an engagement of such deliberation and such solemnity would be a fresh blow to the confidence of the people in their representative institutions, and a fresh incentive to dangerous innovators.'

Senior, in his 'Political Economy,' has denounced unnecessary taxes as 'a fraud and a robbery'—and the income-tax is essentially an unnecessary tax. Sir Robert Giffen, the statistician of the Board of Trade, and a strenuous upholder of Free Trade policy, wrote in January 1902, as follows:

The question of new taxes must be faced when a large revenue is required; recourse must be had to indirect rather than direct taxation. Pound for pound that is raised, direct taxes bite more severely than indirect, which are hardly felt at all when placed on a few articles of luxury generally consumed. . . . The aim should be, I believe, to relieve the income-tax. There should be no real difficulty in providing the necessary taxes. We have only to go back to a date just before those wanton sacrifices of indirect revenue began, which have landed us in our present difficulties. That date is prior to the Gladstone Government of 1869-74, since which time many remissions of indirect taxes have been received with absolute coldness by the taxpayers. No taxpayer, that one ever heard of, recognised himself as better off by the repeal of a shilling a quarter on grain. What is necessary, in order that the country's finances may have indispensable strength, is substantially to undo the remissions of the indirect taxation which have taken place since 1874, or shortly before that date—the time of Mr. Gladstone's famous proposal to abolish income-tax.

The Times, commenting on this letter, said: 'The restoration of Is. a quarter on corn, which was wantonly flung away by Mr. Lowe's economic pedantry, would not be felt in the price of bread, and might probably be doubled without becoming perceptible.' This forecast of the Times has been justified by subsequent events. The duty of about Is. per quarter was shortly afterwards imposed, with the result that, in spite of the unscrupulous attempt of political agitators to raise the price of bread, the price of wheat fell, and it was only after this useful tax had again been wantonly flung away by Mr. Eitchie's economic pedantry that the price of wheat rose. A good source of revenue has thus been foolishly sacrificed, and the burden of taxation, which was then borne by the foreigner, has been transferred to the British taxpayer without a single corresponding advantage.

Again, the income-tax bears unfairly upon our Colonies and dependencies. It is impossible for those who have not resided abroad to realise the burden under which British subjects suffer, and from which the foreigner residing in those parts is exempt unless he has a house of business in Great Britain. After securing new markets at great cost of blood and treasure, we foolishly allow the foreigner to reap the benefit at our expense and to our detriment.

At the fourth Congress of the Chambers of Commerce of the Empire, the following resolution was passed:

That it is inequitable that income-tax should be paid on profits made in any British Colony or possession, upon which income-tax has been paid in such colony or possession. It is equally inequitable that income-tax should be paid in any British Colony or possession, on profits made in the United Kingdom.

In November 1902, a bitter cry against the double income-tax arose in India, in the shape of a petition to Lord Curzon, from the whole of the mercantile and trading community in Calcutta, protesting against the injustice of a double income-tax being levied, and pointing out the injury it had done 'in discouraging capitalists from investing in India, and checking the supply to India of British capital which is so much needed for the development of the country.'

The Clothes that Ghosts Wear


THE CLOTHES OF GHOSTS—AN ENIGMA, article in Current Literature 1906

WHY do ghosts—if there are really such things as ghosts—wear clothes? This question, says Andrew Lang, only a skeptic would think of asking. But as there are still skeptics on the subject of ghosts, despite the labors of the spiritualists and the careful researches of the psychic societies, the question is still asked with frequency enough and insistence enough to compel attention of some kind from the experts in psychic affairs.

Dr. James H. Hyslop, that patient investigator in mysterious phenomena, refers to the subject somewhat gingerly, as it seems to us, in his new volume [Enigmas Of Psychical Research]. All the ghosts that have come to his attention with respectable credentials wear clothing. The testimony is generally quite explicit on that point. He cites some of it. One witness, for instance, whose tale is corroborated, tells of being in a hotel bed on a bright moonlight night, when the windows were open and the blinds up. He saw a young man of twenty-five standing at the side of the bed and pointing with his finger, who soon vanished through the door, which was shut. He was dressed, not in sheets, but in flannels. In another case, well authenticated, the narrator after going to bed about midnight saw at his bed a wraith, which, in spite of the unwonted dress, he at once recognized as a friend who had died some time before. The ghost had on a khaki coat, a leather strap, a brown leather girdle, a sword and helmet.

In these and a host of other instances for which the evidence is of a scientific and unassailable character, Dr. Hyslop is able to be specific on the subject of the clothing worn by apparitions. The conventional notion that the average ghost presents itself in a winding-sheet has been exploded by the investigations of Dr. Hyslop and the Society for Psychical Research. Ghosts dress very much as do they in the world of mortal men. It has been customary in all recent investigation to take note of that circumstance. But how do the ghosts come by their clothes? Are the clothes themselves spirit? In reply, Dr. Hyslop insists that the question is in reality irrelevant. If we regard the apparition as a real spirit we are forced to treat the apparition of clothes as an incidental phenomenon to be explained by a subsidiary hypothesis. It does not damage the spirit theory; it is simply a perplexity within it.

To the intelligent psychologist the phenomenon does not give any trouble. He is quite willing to recognize that the whole apparition, clothes and all, is an hallucination. He simply regards it as a "veridical hallucination," meaning thereby that it is caused by an extraorganic though super-normal stimulus, as subjective hallucinations are produced by intra-organic or by normal extra-organic stimuli. He does not require to believe that the spirit is actually where it is, any more than he supposes that telepathic phantasms are real. Just what Dr. Hyslop's own point of view is on the subject is not altogether clear to us. Very few of the psychic investigators have reached a point where they are to dogmatize on the main subject of their investigations, still less so on what may be called a side issue of the subject.

Another solution of the clothes enigma to which attention is called in the London Post, by Andrew Lang, himself an expert in psychic research, is that the clothes of a ghost are astral matter like the ghost itself. But we know no more about astral matter, observes Mr. Lang, commenting on Dr. Hyslop's remarks on the subject, than we know of life on another planet. Astral theories, he says, are condemned by science as purely hypothetical. Of course, if the ghosts are mere hallucinations, the clothes present no enigma. They are hallucinations, too. But this easy way of disposing of the subject does not satisfy Mr. Lang. He says:

"If I see a friend, who, on principle, never enters a motor, in motoring costume and covered with blood, and if it turns out that he has been killed at the moment of my vision in his first motor journey, then the coincidence is the puzzle. There must be some cause of the appearance beyond mere chance coincidence, or at least it is natural to think so. A pretty instance occurs, I think, in a biography of Warren Hastings. The anecdote, as I remember it, avers that at a meeting of the Council of the East India Company in Calcutta one of the members (I think several shared the experience) saw his own father, wearing a hat of a peculiar shape, hitherto strange to the observers. In due time came a ship from London bearing news of the father's death, and a large and well-selected assortment of the new hat fashionable in England. It was the hat worn by the paternal appearance! If the circumstances are recorded in the minutes of the proceedings of the Council, which I have not consulted, then the hat of that spook becomes important as evidence."

Thursday, April 19, 2018

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!


Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley 1818

First published in The Examiner of the 11th of January 1818, with the signature “Glirastes.” There is no verbal variation between that version and the reprint in the Rosalind and Helen volume. In Middleton’s Shelley and His Writings (Vol. II, p. 71) we are told that Shelley, Keats, and Leigh Hunt “tried to excel each other in writing a sonnet on the Nile;” and he adds that Shelley’s Ozymandias “was one of these.” He gives no authority for this latter statement; and I presume it rests upon the fact that Lord Houghton, in his Life, Letters, and Literary Remains of John Keats, appends the Ozymandias Sonnet, with those of Keats and Hunt, to the letter in which Keats recounts the friendly strife. Lord Houghton (Vol. 1, p. 99) merely introduces the three Sonnets with the words, “These are the three sonnets on the Nile here alluded to; and very characteristic they are.” At all events it is to be remarked that this is not a sonnet on the Nile, and that, among the Leigh Hunt MSS. placed at my disposal by Mr. Townshend Mayer, there is a sonnet in Shelley's handwriting addressed “To the Nile,”—which will be found in Vol. III of this edition of his works.

I MET a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desart.
Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, 
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:* 
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains.
Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.


*I should not have supposed lines 7 and 8 to present a difficulty ; but asaman of letters of my acquaintance tells me he considers them unintelligible, it may be well to note that the clause stamped on these lifeless things is parenthetic, the meaning being that the passions of Ozymandias, being stamped on the lifeless fragments of his statue, still survive the sculptor’s hand which mocked them, and the tyrant’s heart which fed them.

What Capitalism Has Achieved By Prof. E. R. A. Seligman 1921



The Achievements of Capitalism By Prof. E. R. A. Seligman 1921

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In beginning a debate of this magnitude, it is pertinent to inquire what the words mean. What do we really understand by Capitalism and what by Socialism? Unless we are clear about that, we are wandering in a maze of uncertainty. Now by Capitalism, I think we may understand that form of industrial organization where the means of production, and by that, I mean primarily under modern technological conditions the machine and the funds required to work the machine, are in the control of private individuals. The difficulty of defining Socialism is that while Capitalism is an institution, Socialism is only a theory, unless indeed we except a few sporadic examples that we find in the middle of the 19th century in this country, and unless we also except the gigantic enterprise that is now being conducted by Soviet Russia. . . You have your choice of the different brands of Socialism as a theory, but as an organization, as an industrial form, all these various forms and kinds of Socialism are permeated by one fundamental common idea. That is, that the control of the method of production, that the control of capital, for, of course. Socialists like everyone else concede the necessity of capital, that the control of capital shall be in the hands of the group and that there shall be no room for private rents, private interests or private profits.

Having thus defined those two opposing ideas, the next point that I desire to make is that while there are all forms and manner of capitalists, just as there are all kinds and manner of human beings, just as there are reactionary and stand-pat capitalists, and forward looking and progressive capitalists, while that is true, my contention is that capitalism is progressive. There is only one form of capitalism and that is progressive capitalism. Every form of industrial organization is progressive. . .

Now, then, taking up the points in order, I want first to call attention to the achievements of Capitalism. We are now not discussing what might have been attained under other conditions but simply what has been attained. What are the actual facts and the achievements of Capitalism? I should sum them up as follows: first and foremost, I should say that we must recognize the accumulation of wealth irrespective of where it is and in whose hands it is—the cheapening of production and the accumulation of wealth—because it is undeniable that certain advantages from this accumulation of capital and wealth accrue to the worker. . .

In the second place, I would put the diversification of consumption. Compare the World today with what it was in all previous ages and take what the laborer even though he be the most poorly paid of all the laborers, take what he eats and what he wears and what he has with which to shelter himself. All of this is the result of the capitalist system. . .

In the third place, capitalism is responsible for democracy. . . What has brought about democracy is the industrial revolution, modern capitalism, and that means a public opinion which has never existed before in the history of the world and to the extent that every workman no matter how humble he be, has today democracy and has today a voice in framing even to a small extent the management of the affairs of state, which is due to the form of industrial society under which we live.

And in the fourth place, I should put as one of the achievements of capitalism, liberty of movement. In the middle ages, there was not liberty. The serf could not move. The serf was bound to the soil and it is only since capitalism has developed that we have the liberty of movement, implying with that all the results of liberty of production as well as the liberty of consumption.

And finally, to cap the climax, modern capitalism is responsible for education and for science. Never before in the history of the world have we had a form of public instruction comparable to our own.

I do not deny indeed that there is a dark side as well as a bright side and to that I now come to address myself. What are the weaknesses and the excrescences of Capitalism? My point is that since Capitalism is a progressive form of society, these weaknesses are remediable and these excrescences can be and are being locked off. What are those weaknesses? Of course, everyone knows. In the first place, we have unfair competition between businesses and human beings. . .

And in the second place, we have of course as one of these sad results, the fact that unjust privileges still continue and that sometimes certain forms of integraded organization known as potential monopolies make their appearance. . .

And in the third place, I should say that modern capitalism does indeed result in certain exaggerated fortunes. The development of a leisure class has its very bad sides at a time when everyone ought to be working.

Now, when you come to the laborer of course there are very great evils there, but they are gradually being overcome. Take the conditions of work and the hours of work. Many years ago, the great movement was for twelve hours a day. I remember the ten hour day movement. Then there was the great fight for the eight hour day and now some of our factory laws even require only a six hour day in certain industries. Capitalism itself is gradually changing those conditions—Capitalism is changing those conditions not because it likes to do it but because it is forced to do it by the letting loose of those very forces which are implicit in modern form of capitalism. So it is with the hours, with the wages. Wages are by no means what they ought to be. Wages are certainly far less than they should be. . .

And finally we find that not alone are those things all true but then the one great point—I should say, the two great indictments of our present system, are first: The insecurity of employment for the workman— that very, very bad thing which is being attacked and which is entirely susceptible of being improved by the application to it of the same principle that we have applied to accidents, that we have applied to many other evils, namely, the insurance principle. There is no reason in the world why the workman should be made to bear as he has today, the burden of unemployment and of insecurity of business.

And finally, the last point, the joylessness of life. That to a certain extent must continue under any form of industrial government, as long as we have a machine. Machines will be needed under Socialism as under Capitalism. But the real joylessness of the machine tender can be abated, can be diminished and can be done away with by giving him more of a participation in the industry itself, as we are gradually doing through what we call our industrial democracy. . .

I want to say a word about why, with all these things, I am not a Socialist. And I should put it in this way. In the first place, as regards the remuneration of labor, Socialism preaches equal pay. A bonus, Lenin told us, was something only for bourgeois society. Equal pay means payment according to need, whereas it is not payment according to need but payment according to efficient work that is going to set the world onward, and even in Russia today, they have been compelled as you all know of course, to give up their original plans of payment according to need and now have developed the bonus system to a point even unheard of in our United States.

In the second place, we deal with the other side of it, the man at the top. If society has progressed at all events in some ways, it is due above all to the man who has been the leader—the leader in industry. . . We may not believe as our great Emerson said that we are all as lazy as we dare to be, but it is true that the race-horse does best when he has a pace-maker and even we who sometimes play golf, don't play as well alone as when we play with a partner.

Under socialism, leadership would be and the possibilities of leadership would be immensely restricted for two reasons: first, you would not have the incentive that you have now and in the second place, the risk would be far more limited. Nowadays people who get to the top through the selective process do so because they are willing and able to take risks. Under any form of socialistic government, the risk could not, would not be taken because they could not afford to take it. These two points, the selective process of the modern competitive system and the restriction of the risk function in modern society are to my mind the chief indictment against socialism.

With Capitalism...In 1850, wages were $204. In 1910, the average wage—mind you the average wage of the average workman, taking the low and the high altogether, had gone up to $507...When Mr. James J. Hill, the great Empire builder, built one of the great trans-continental railroads which have brought about this very cheapening of product and the diversification of consumption of which I spoke, did he not contribute to production? And when our friend Mr. Ford with whose general philosophy perhaps I am not in entire accord, when he brought down the price of automobiles, the automobiles that are used by the workmen all over this country in going to and from their daily work, could those fortunate workmen say that Mr. Ford has been able to keep up his millions by simply taking them, filching them, stealing them, from the men in his employ.

I do not deny that there is theft. I do not deny that there is robbery. I do not deny that there are bad people as well as good people, but I do say that the essence of the capitalist system today, that the essence of profits today, of legitimate profits is not theft, but service and that people in the long run cannot under modern conditions, in the long run and under normal conditions make great profits unless they really do service for the community.

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Religion, Philosophy, History & Mystery Books you won't believe are online for free (Apr 19 2018)

Books you won't believe are online for free...but you may have to hurry before they are taken down. I did not post any of these books, these are simply books I found in my online travels.

For a list of all of my digital books and books on disk click here


Books for FREE online:

What Is Metaphysics? by Martin Heidegger

Physics and Philosophy by Werner Heisenberg

What Is Life? by Erwin Schrödinger

The Affluent Society by John Kenneth Galbraith

The Open Society and Its Enemies by Karl Popper

Man's Search for Meaning by Victor Frankl

Battle Cry of Freedom by James M. McPherson

A History of Philosophy by Frederick Charles Copleston

The Great Terror by Robert Conquest (Audio)

Ideas Have Consequences by Richard M. Weaver


Entropy by Jeremy Rifkin

The Golden Ratio: The Story of Phi, the World's Most Astonishing
Number by Mario Livio

Being and Time by Martin Heidegger

Salem's Lot by Stephen King (Audio)

IT by Stephen King Full Audiobook Part 1 of 4

The Silence of the Lambs by Thomas Harris

Dean Koontz's Icebound (audiobook)

Life Expectancy by Dean Koontz (audio)

The Good Guy by Dean Koontz (audio)

The Husband by Dean Koontz (audio)

The Darkest Evening Of The Year by Dean Koontz (audio)

The Hero With A Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell

But I trusted you And other true cases by Ann Rule

The Bible in Living English by Steven Byington 1972


The Screaming Skulls & Other Ghosts by Elliott O'Donnell

The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus

Human Accomplishment The Pursuit of Excellence in the Arts and
Sciences, 800 B.C. to 1950 by Charles Murray

In Cold Blood by Truman Capote

Dictionary Of Gods And Goddesses by Michael Jordan

The Routledge Dictionary Of Gods And Goddesses, Devils and Demons

The Secret History Of The World by Laura Knight-Jadczyk

Vicars of Christ: the Dark Side of the Papacy by Peter De Rosa

Famous Serial Killers by Borg Schroeder

A History Of Secret Societies by Daraul, Arkon

Secret History of the Jesuits

The Amityville Horror by Jay Anson

Babylon Mystery Religion - Ralph Woodrow

Michael A. Cremo Richard l. Thompson - The Hidden History of the Human Race 1998

The Psychology of Self-Esteem by Nathaniel Branden


Buddha A Story Of Enlightenment by Deepak Chopra

The Pink Swastika by Scott Lively; Kevin E. Abrams

Behold a Pale Horse by William Cooper

The Secret Teachings Of All Ages by Manly P. Hall

Chariots of The Gods - In Search of Ancient Aliens by Erich von Daniken

The God Makers - A Shocking Expose of What the Mormon Church Really
Believes by Ed Decker, Dave Hunt

The Holy Bible The Book Of Mormon Doctrine And Covenants Pearl Of Great Price

Paranthropology: Journal of Anthropological Approaches to the Paranormal

Cliffs Notes Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged

The Junior Bible An American Translation by Edgar J. Goodspeed 1936

The Third Book Of Enoch

Scream Comic 1974 - Who Killed Frankenstein's Monster

Ellery Queens Mystery Magazine v12n60 American Mercury (Nov 1948)

Inside Detective (1939-04) (Mark of the Vampire article)

Creepy - First Magazine of Illustrated Horror (Warren Publishing) Issue 038

Vampirella, Illustrated Magazine (Warren Publishing) Issue 001, 1974


Fawcett Comics: This Magazine is Haunted 007

The Lost Books Of The Bible The Rejected Texts By Joseph B. Lumpkin

Labyrinth13: True Tales of the Occult, Crime & Conspiracy by Curt Rowlett

The True Believer by Eric Hoffer

Wonders In The Sky - Unexplained Aerial Objects From Antiquity To
Modern Times - Jacques Vallee, Chris Aubeck

Paranthropology Magazine

Some things can never be explained: A selected list of books on the
occult and the supernatural for young adults

Dark Horse Comics Presents The Book Of Hauntings

Spawn Comics

The Simpsons' Treehouse Of Horror, September 2014


We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

Time for Murder - Detective Magazine

Murder In The Basement by Anthony Berkeley

Good Bones and Simple Murders by Margaret Atwood

Under Attack by Hannah Jayne
Sophie Lawson, a human agent of the Underworld Detection Agency who is
immune to magic, helps a fallen angel search for the Vessel of Souls
while a string of killings and destruction has San Francisco's demon
population on edge

Zetetic Scholar - Zetetic Scholar was started by Marcello Truzzi to
counter the pseudoskeptics.  He promoted the term "zeteticism" as an
alternative to "skepticism", because he thought that the latter term
was being usurped by what he termed "pseudoskeptics". A zetetic is a
"skeptical seeker". The term's origins lie in the word for the
followers of the skeptic Pyrrho in ancient Greece. Skeptic's
Dictionary memorialized Truzzi thus: “Truzzi considered most skeptics
to be pseudoskeptics, a term he coined to describe those who assume an
occult or paranormal claim is false without bothering to investigate
it. A kind way to state these differences might be to say that
Marcello belonged to the Pyrrhonian tradition, most of the rest of us
belong to the Academic skeptical tradition.” (from Wikipedia)

Columbo: The Helter Skelter Murders
The wife of a wealthy Los Angeles businessman is found murdered in her
bed with her lover, with the words Helter Skelter painted in blood on
the walls. Columbo, America's favorite TV detective, must ask himself
whether the horror of the Manson himself is ordering a fresh new round
of atrocities from his San Quentin prison cell?

World Of Horror 007 (1972)

Halls of Horror 026 (1983)

Tales of Horror

Haunted Magazine 2015

Haunted Waters by Elliott O'Donnell

Asimov's Science & Fiction Magazine

The Franklin Cover-Up [Child Abuse, Satanism And Murder In Nebraska] by John W Decamp

Murder By Injection The Story of the Medical Conspiracy Against America by Eustace Mullins

The Bible And The Dead Sea Scrolls

Fallen Angels And The History Of Judaism And Christianity by Annette Y Reed

The Skeptic's Guide to the Paranormal by Lynne Kelly

The Basement Sublet of Horror - Magazine