It is not alone in Bohemia’s mountainous regions that the romantic characters are found which form the basis of Weber’s immortal fictions. Similar traditions are current in many lands, especially in ours, one of which we will now relate. In the artless fancy of the peasantry the means of acquiring the power of unerring aim are many, the most usual by compact with the Fairies or Wood Nymphs. While the compact lasts the possessor, sitting at his hut door, needs only to wish, and the game of his choice springs into view, and within range of his never-failing gun. Such a compact, however, invariably ends in the destruction of the hunter. Many years ago there was a watchman up in the Göinge regions, a wild fellow, who, one evening, while drinking with his neighbors, more tipsy and more talkative as the hour grew late, boasted loudly of his marksmanship, and offered to wager that, with his trusty gun, he could give them such an exhibition of skill as they had never before seen. “There goes, as I speak,” said he, “a roe on Halland’s Mountains.” His companions laughed at him, not believing that he could know what was transpiring at a distance of several miles, which was the least that lay between them and the spot indicated. “I will wager you that I need go no farther than the door to shoot him for you,” persevered the watchman in defiant tones. “Nonsense!” said the others. “Come, will you wager something worth the while? Say two cans of ale.” “Done! Two cans of ale, it shall be.” And the company betook themselves to the yard in front of the hut. It was a frosty autumn evening. The wind chased the clouds over the sky, and the half moon cast fitful reflections through the breaks over the neighborhood. In a few minutes a something was seen moving rapidly along the edge of a thicket on the farther side of a little glade. The watchman threw his gun carelessly to his shoulder and fired. A derisive laugh was echo to the report. No mortal, thought they, in such uncertain light and at such a distance, could shoot a deer in flight. The watchman, certain of his game, hastened across the glade, followed by his companions, to whom the event meant, at least, two cans of ale. It would not be easy to picture the surprise of the doubters, when, upon arriving at the thicket, they discovered, lying upon the ground, bathed in foam and his tongue hanging from his mouth, a magnificent stag, pierced through the heart by the deadly bullet, his life blood fast coloring his bed of autumn leaves a brighter hue. What unseen power has brought this poor animal from Halland’s Mountains in a bare half hour? Such were the thoughts of the watchman’s companions as they retired in silence to the hut. The watchman received his two cans of ale, but no one seemed inclined to join him in disposing of them. They now understood with what sort of a man they were having to do. It was evident to them that the watchman was in league with the Evil One himself, and they henceforth guarded themselves carefully against companionship with him after dark.
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Travel back to a magical world of colorful myth and legend as you explore this collection of folktales from Sweden. Over eighty stories are told, with more than forty illustrations of trolls, ghosts, giants and other denizens of the Swedish folkscape. There are tales of lost treasure, encounters with the devil, meetings with the tomte, the spirits of the home, and of the beautiful wood nymphs, whose true nature is often betrayed by a fox tail peeking below the hem of a skirt. Swedish Fairy Tales, originally published in 1890, will dazzle a new generation of readers with legends from Sweden's early storytelling tradition.
It is not alone in Bohemia’s mountainous regions that the romantic characters are found which form the basis of Weber’s immortal fictions. Similar traditions are current in many lands, especially in ours, one of which we will now relate. In the artless fancy of the peasantry the means of acquiring the power of unerring aim are many, the most usual by compact with the Fairies or Wood Nymphs. While the compact lasts the possessor, sitting at his hut door, needs only to wish, and the game of his choice springs into view, and within range of his never-failing gun. Such a compact, however, invariably ends in the destruction of the hunter. Many years ago there was a watchman up in the Göinge regions, a wild fellow, who, one evening, while drinking with his neighbors, more tipsy and more talkative as the hour grew late, boasted loudly of his marksmanship, and offered to wager that, with his trusty gun, he could give them such an exhibition of skill as they had never before seen. “There goes, as I speak,” said he, “a roe on Halland’s Mountains.” His companions laughed at him, not believing that he could know what was transpiring at a distance of several miles, which was the least that lay between them and the spot indicated. “I will wager you that I need go no farther than the door to shoot him for you,” persevered the watchman in defiant tones. “Nonsense!” said the others. “Come, will you wager something worth the while? Say two cans of ale.” “Done! Two cans of ale, it shall be.” And the company betook themselves to the yard in front of the hut. It was a frosty autumn evening. The wind chased the clouds over the sky, and the half moon cast fitful reflections through the breaks over the neighborhood. In a few minutes a something was seen moving rapidly along the edge of a thicket on the farther side of a little glade. The watchman threw his gun carelessly to his shoulder and fired. A derisive laugh was echo to the report. No mortal, thought they, in such uncertain light and at such a distance, could shoot a deer in flight. The watchman, certain of his game, hastened across the glade, followed by his companions, to whom the event meant, at least, two cans of ale. It would not be easy to picture the surprise of the doubters, when, upon arriving at the thicket, they discovered, lying upon the ground, bathed in foam and his tongue hanging from his mouth, a magnificent stag, pierced through the heart by the deadly bullet, his life blood fast coloring his bed of autumn leaves a brighter hue. What unseen power has brought this poor animal from Halland’s Mountains in a bare half hour? Such were the thoughts of the watchman’s companions as they retired in silence to the hut. The watchman received his two cans of ale, but no one seemed inclined to join him in disposing of them. They now understood with what sort of a man they were having to do. It was evident to them that the watchman was in league with the Evil One himself, and they henceforth guarded themselves carefully against companionship with him after dark.
By the time of his untimely death in 1983, Herman Kahn was recognized by both friends and intellectual adversaries as "one of the world's most creative and best minds." The current growing resurgence of interest in Kahn's ideas and intellectual legacy demonstrates the enduring relevance of his work. Yet, in spite of the constant influence of his arguments, there is a shortage of books summarizing Kahn's essential contributions, and thus his work is not as well known as it should be. The Essential Herman Kahn is an attempt to cope with this predicament and offer the public for the first time an anthology consisting of the essence of Kahn's work, organized thematically. The two decades that have passed since his death allow us today to approach his work undisturbed by the "sound and fury" of the many public debates and controversies he participated in and to focus on some of the deepest and most enduring dimensions of his intellectual contributions. The anthology will try to bring together, out of the several thousands pages published by Kahn during his life, the "essential Kahn," the most relevant, consequential and interesting themes, ideas and arguments defining his legacy. As such it will met the needs of those who are interested in Kahn's work but do not have the time and energy to access his out-of-print books, to make their way through the voluminous number of pages, and then to sort out the essential from the accidental, the perennial from the contextual.
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