John Meade Falkner (1858 – 1932)
Born 
in 
Manningford 
Bruce, 
Wiltshire, 
England. 
He 
attended 
Marlborough 
College, 
then 
Hertford 
College 
at 
Oxford 
University. 
He 
wrote
The 
Lost 
Stradivarius
(1895),
Moonfleet 
(1898),
The 
Nebuly 
Coat
(1903).
| 
 
Moonfleet 
by 
John 
M. 
Falkner 
The 
village 
of 
Moonfleet 
lies 
half 
a 
mile 
from 
the 
sea 
on 
the 
right 
or 
west 
bank 
of 
the 
Fleet 
stream.
 
I 
shall 
first 
speak 
of 
one 
evening 
in 
the 
fall 
of 
the 
year 
1757. 
It 
must 
have 
been 
late 
in 
October, 
though 
I 
have 
forgotten 
the 
exact 
date, 
and I 
sat 
in 
the 
little 
front 
parlour 
reading 
after 
tea. 
My 
aunt 
had 
few 
books; 
a 
Bible, 
a 
Common 
Prayer, 
and 
some 
volumes 
of 
sermons 
are 
all 
that 
I can 
recollect 
now; 
but 
the 
Reverend 
Mr 
Glennie, 
who 
taught 
us 
village 
children, 
had 
lent 
me a 
story-hook, 
full 
of 
interest 
and 
adventure, 
called 
the
Arabian 
Nights 
Entertainment. 
At 
last 
the 
light 
began 
to 
fail, 
and I 
was 
nothing 
loth 
to 
leave 
off 
reading 
for 
several 
reasons; 
as, 
first 
the 
parlour 
was a 
chilly 
room 
with 
horse-hair 
chairs 
and 
sofa, 
and 
only 
a 
coloured-paper 
screen 
in 
the 
grate, 
for 
my 
aunt 
did 
not 
allow 
a 
fire 
till 
the 
first 
of 
November; 
second, 
there 
was a 
rank 
smell 
of 
molten 
tallow 
in 
the 
house, 
for 
my 
aunt 
was 
dipping 
winter 
candles 
on 
frames 
in 
the 
back 
kitchen; 
third, 
I had 
reached 
a 
part 
in 
the
Arabian 
Nights 
which 
tightened 
my 
breath 
and 
made 
me 
wish 
to 
leave 
off 
reading 
for 
very 
anxiousness 
of 
expectation. 
It 
was 
that 
point 
in 
the 
story 
of 
the 
"Wonderful 
Lamp", 
where 
the 
false 
uncle 
lets 
fall 
a 
stone 
that 
seals 
the 
mouth 
of 
the 
underground 
chamber; 
and 
immures 
the 
boy, 
Aladdin, 
in 
the 
darkness, 
because 
he 
would 
not 
give 
up 
the 
lamp 
till 
he 
stood 
safe 
on 
the 
surface 
again. 
This 
scene 
reminded 
me of 
one 
of 
those 
dreadful 
nightmares, 
where 
we 
dream 
we 
are 
shut 
in a 
line 
room, 
the 
walls 
of 
which 
are 
closing 
in 
upon 
us, 
and 
so 
impressed 
me 
that 
the 
memory 
of it 
served 
as a 
warning 
in an 
adventure 
that 
befell 
me 
later 
on. 
 |