The Last Wax Cylinder
The Last Wax Cylinder The sound came first, not as something heard but as something felt—a vibration in the floorboards that Arthur Pendelton mistook for the house settling beneath a London fog so thick it pressed against the windows like wet wool. He was thirty-eight years old that November of 1880, living in a drafty Georgian townhouse at the edge of Hampstead Heath, surviving on an...
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