It is situated on rising ground, about six miles from the sea, and is sheltered by a large and picturesque forest. Some eleven years ago, Helen V came to the village under rather peculiar circumstances. It is understood that she, being an orphan, was adopted in infancy by a distant relative who brought her up in his own house until she was twelve years old. Thinking, however, that it would be better for the child to have playmates of her own age, he advertised in several local papers for a good home in Comfortable Farmhouse. This advertisement was answered by Mr.

R, a well-to-do farmer in the above-mentioned village. His references, proving satisfactory, the gentleman sent his adopted daughter to Mr. R with a letter in which he stipulated that the girl should have a room to herself, and stated that her guardians need be at no trouble in the matter of education, as she was already sufficiently educated for the position in life which she would occupy. In fact, Mr. R was given to understand that the girl be allowed to find her own occupations and spend her time almost as she liked. Mr. R duly met her at the nearest station, a town seven miles away from his house, and seems to have remarked nothing extraordinary about the child except that she was reticent as to her former life and her adopted father.

She was, however, of a very different type from the inhabitants of the village. Her skin was a pale, clear olive, and her features were strongly marked and of a somewhat foreign character. She appears to have settled down easily enough into farmhouse life and became a favorite with the children, who sometimes went with her on her rambles in the forest, for this was her favored amusement. Mr. R states that he has known her to go out by herself directly after their early breakfast and not return till after dusk. She appears to have settled down easily enough into farmhouse life and became a favorite with the children, who sometimes went with her on her rambles in the forest, for this was her amusement.

Mr. R states that he has known her to go out by herself directly after their early breakfast and not return till after dusk. For that, feeling uneasy at a young girl being out alone for so many hours, he communicated with her adopted father, who replied in a brief note that Helen must do as she chose. In winter, when the forest paths are impassable, she spent most of her time in her bedroom, where she slept alone, according to the instructions of her relative. It was on one of these expeditions to the forest that the first of the singular incidents with which this girl is connected occurred.

The date being about a year after her arrival at the village, the preceding winter had been remarkably severe, the snow drifting to a great depth, and the frost continuing for an unexampled period. And the summer following was as noteworthy for its extreme heat. On one of the very hottest days in this summer, Helen V left the farmhouse for one of her long rambles in the forest, taking with her, as usual, some bread and meat for lunch. She was seen by some men in the fields, making for the old Roman road, a green causeway which traverses the highest part of the wood, and they were astonished to observe that the girl had taken off her hat, though the heat of the sun was already tropical.

As it happened, a laborer, Joseph W. by name, was working in the forest near the Roman road, and at twelve o’clock his little son, Trevor, brought the man his dinner of bread and cheese. After the meal, the boy, who was about seven years old at the time, left his father at work, and as he said, went to look for flowers in the wood, and the man, who could hear him shouting with delight at his discoveries, felt no uneasiness. Suddenly, however, he was horrified at hearing the most dreadful screams, evidently the result of great terror, proceeding from the direction in which his son had gone.

He hastily threw down his tools and ran to see what had happened. Tracing his path by the sound, he met the little boy, who was running headlong and was evidently terribly frightened. And unquestioning him, the man elicited that after picking a posy of flowers, he felt tired and lay down on the grass and fell asleep. He was suddenly awakened, as he stated, by a peculiar noise, a sort of singing, he called it, and on peeping through the branches he saw Helen V. playing on the grass with a strange naked man, who he seemed unable to describe more fully.

He said he felt dreadfully frightened and ran away crying for his father. Joseph W. proceeded in the direction indicated by his son and found Helen V. sitting on the grass. In the middle of a glade or open space left by charcoal burners, he angrily charged her with frightening his little boy, but she entirely denied the accusation and laughed at the child’s story of a strange man, to which he himself did not attach much credence. Joseph W. came to the conclusion that the boy had woke up with such a sudden fright as children sometimes do, but Trevor persisted in his story and continued in such evident distress that at last his father took him home, hoping that his mother would be able to soothe him.

For many weeks, however, the boy gave his parents much anxiety. He became nervous and strange in his manner, refusing to leave the cottage by himself and constantly alarming the household by waking in the night with cries of, the man in the wood, father, father. In course of time, however, the impression seemed to have worn off, and about three months later, he accompanied his father to the home of a gentleman in his neighborhood for whom Joseph W. occasionally did work. The man was shown into the study and the little boy was left sitting in the hall, and a few minutes later, while the gentleman was giving W.

his instructions, they were both horrified by a piercing shriek and the sound of a fall. In rushing out, they found the child lying senseless on the floor, his face contorted with terror. The doctor was immediately summoned, and after some examination, he pronounced the child to be suffering from a kind of fit, apparently caused by sudden shock. The boy was taken to one of the bedrooms and, after some time, recovered consciousness, but only to pass into a condition described by the medical man as one of violent hysteria. The doctor exhibited a strong sedative, and in the course of two hours pronounced him fit to walk home, but in passing through the hall, the paroxysms of the fright returned with additional violence.

The father perceived that the child was pointing at some object and heard the old cry. The man in the wood, and looking in the direction indicated, saw a stone head of grotesque appearance, which had been built into the wall above one of the doors. It seemed the owner of the house had recently made alterations in his premises, and on digging the foundations for some offices, the men had found a curious head, evidently of the Roman period, which had been placed in the manner described. The head is pronounced by the most experienced archaeologists of the district, to be that of a fawn or satyr.

Dr. Phillips tells me that he has seen the head in question, and assures me that he has never received such a vivid presentment of evil, intense evil. From whatever cause arising, the second shock seemed too severe for the boy Trevor, and at the present date he suffers from a weakness of intellect, which gives but little promise of amending. What a fantastic story. I love that image of an ancient piece of art depicting pan, depicting a satyr, to be such a clear reminder of the very real satyr that the boys experienced. This is a small part of quite a long story, The Great God Pan.

Absolutely astounding. Aleister Crowley was also a huge fan of Arthur Mackin, and actually fought to get him a pension from the government, an artist’s pension. Either way, this is one of my very favorites. If you have a story that you’d like me to cover this month, leave it in the comments below, and if you enjoyed this story, check out my writing on rickrubinstentrogrammaton.com, and check out my substack, goddisc.substack.com, and as always, remember, screams matter. [tr:trw].