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Updated: June 14, 2025
He was different from her own lover; no better, of course, but he had lived another life, and could tell her many things. And Woodell, who expected to marry her, glowered a little. She did not care for that. Grant Harlson had not noticed it. But neither quoits nor Jenny Bierce sufficed at all times for forgetfulness.
It was during the time when all the names were submitted on the ballot and voters crossed off those they did not want to win. If you prefer any candidate on any other ticket, scratch Murdock. If you require any pledge other than that he will vote according to his honest convictions, scratch Murdock. His friend, Ambrose Bierce, spoke of him as the most scholarly man on the Pacific Coast.
He has a keen sense of humour, breaking out beyond all decorum in some of his stories, but giving a pleasant sub-flavour to all of them. And yet, when all is said, who can doubt that the austere and dreadful American is far the greater and more original mind of the two? Talking of weird American stories, have you ever read any of the works of Ambrose Bierce?
"And some time, when we get together in San Francisco, I'll lead you up against Bierce the one this cove is named after. His favorite stunt, when he isn't collecting rattlesnakes, is to wait for a forty-mile-an-hour breeze, and then get up and walk on the parapet of a skyscraper on the lee side, mind you, so that if he blows off there's nothing to fetch him up but the street.
He found, maybe, distraction, too, in chatting with slim Jenny Bierce, who was a very little girl when he was in the country school, but who had grown into almost a woman, and who was a trifle more refined, perhaps, than most of her associates. She had a sweetheart, a stalwart young farmer named Harrison Woodell, one of the schoolmates of Harlson's early youth, but she liked to talk with Harlson.
Brilliant and magnetic as are these two studies by Ambrose Bierce, and especially significant as coming from one who was a boy soldier in the Civil War, they merely reflect one side of his original and many-faceted genius.
Had Bierce never produced anything but these prose tales, his right to a place high in American letters would nevertheless be secure, and of all his work, serious or otherwise, here is his greatest claim to popular and permanent recognition.
"Look here, Woodell," said Harlson, "let us go to the road and walk down toward your place. I'll not unstrap your hands just yet. I think I'll feel a trifle more comfortable having you as you are. I want to talk with you. I want you to be fair with me. Was it because of Jenny Bierce?" "You know it was." "But why haven't I as good a right to make love to Jenny as you or any other man?"
"That is nothing to you, sir," replies the newspaper man who relates the experience, and in these words expresses the true feeling about ghostly fiction, "that is nothing to you, if I also swear that it is true!" But furthest of all in his scientific explanation not scientifically explaining away, but in explaining the way goes Bierce as he outlines a theory.
As I am on the eve of a long journey from which I may not return, I have drawn up this narrative of an event the most singular that has ever come to my knowledge. The Middle Toe of the Right Foot From Can Such Things Be? by Ambrose Bierce. Copyright by the Neale Publishing Company. By permission of the publishers. It is well known that the old Manton house is haunted.
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