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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..83e4f03 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53419 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53419) diff --git a/old/53419-0.txt b/old/53419-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 90276d0..0000000 --- a/old/53419-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6392 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Twenty-Five Ghost Stories, by W. Bob Holland - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Twenty-Five Ghost Stories - -Author: W. Bob Holland - -Release Date: October 31, 2016 [EBook #53419] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWENTY-FIVE GHOST STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -book was produced from scanned images of public domain -material from the Google Books project.) - - - - - - - - - - - Twenty-Five Ghost Stories. - - COMPILED AND EDITED - - BY - - W. BOB HOLLAND. - - “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, - Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” - --_Hamlet._ - - COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY - J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY. - - NEW YORK: - - J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, - 57 ROSE STREET. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - -Preface 5 - -The Black Cat 7 - -The Flayed Hand 28 - -The Vengeance of a Tree 37 - -The Parlor-Car Ghost 44 - -Ghost of Buckstown Inn 51 - -The Burglar’s Ghost 59 - -A Phantom Toe 76 - -Mrs. Davenport’s Ghost 81 - -The Phantom Woman 90 - -The Phantom Hag 100 - -From the Tomb 105 - -Sandy’s Ghost 114 - -The Ghosts of Red Creek 123 - -The Spectre Bride 128 - -How He Caught the Ghost 134 - -Grand-Dame’s Ghost Story 144 - -A Fight with a Ghost 153 - -Colonel Halifax’s Ghost Story 168 - -The Ghost of the Count 190 - -The Old Mansion 202 - -A Misfit Ghost 210 - -An Unbidden Guest 215 - -The Dead Woman’s Photograph 220 - -The Ghost of a Live Man 228 - -The Ghost of Washington 236 - - - - -PREFACE - - -This collection of ghost stories owes its publication to an interest -that I have long felt in the supernatural and in works of the -imagination. As a child I was deeply concerned in tales of spooks, -haunted houses, wraiths and specters and stories of weird experiences, -clanking chains, ghostly sights and gruesome sounds always held me -spellbound and breathless. - -Experiences in editorial offices taught me that I was not alone in -liking stories of mystery. The desire to know something of that -existence that is veiled by Death is equally potent in old age and in -youth, and men, women and children like to be thrilled and to have a -“creepy” feeling along the spinal column as the result of reading of a -visitor from beyond the grave. - -This volume contains the most famous of the weird stories of Edgar Allan -Poe, that master of this form of literature. “The Black Cat” contains -all the needed element of mystery and supernatural, and yet the feline -acts in a natural manner all of the time, and the story is quite -possibly true. It is only in the manner of its telling that the tale -becomes one that fittingly finds its place in this collection. - -Guy de Maupassant, the clever Frenchman, is also represented by two -effective bits of work, and other less widely known writers have also -contributed stories that are worth reading, and when once read will be -remembered. There is not a story among the twenty-five that is not -worthy of close reading. - -There has recently been a revival in interest in ghost stories. Many of -the high-class magazines have within a few months printed stories with -supernatural incidents, and writers whose names are known to all who -read have turned their attention to this form of literature. - -Whether or not the reader believe in ghosts, he cannot fail to be -interested in this little book. Without venturing to express a positive -opinion either way, I will only say with Hamlet: “There are more things -in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” - -W. BOB HOLLAND. - - - - -Twenty-Five Ghost Stories - - - - -THE BLACK CAT. - -BY EDGAR ALLAN POE. - - -For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I -neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, -in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I -not--and very surely do I not dream. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I -would unburden my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the -world, plainly, succinctly and without comment a series of mere -household events. In their consequences, these events have -terrified--have tortured--have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to -expound them. To me they have presented little but horror, to many they -will seem less terrible than baroques. Hereafter, perhaps, some -intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the -commonplace--some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less -excitable than my own, which will perceive in the circumstances I detail -with awe nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes -and effects. - -From my infancy I was noted for the docility and humanity of my -disposition. My tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to make -me the jest of my companions. I was especially fond of animals, and was -indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets. With these I spent -most of my time, and never was so happy as when feeding and caressing -them. This peculiarity of character grew with my growth, and in my -manhood I derived from it one of my principal sources of pleasure. To -those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and sagacious dog, -I need hardly be at the trouble of explaining the nature or the -intensity of the gratification thus derivable. There is something in the -unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to -the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry -friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man. - -I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not -uncongenial with my own. Observing my partiality for domestic pets she -lost no opportunity of procuring those of the most agreeable kind. We -had birds, goldfish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey and a cat. - -This latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black, -and sagacious to an astonishing degree. In speaking of his intelligence, -my wife, who at heart was not a little tinctured with superstition, made -frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion, which regarded all -black cats as witches in disguise. Not that she was ever serious upon -this point--and I mention the matter at all for no better reason than -that it happens, just now, to be remembered. - -Pluto--this was the cat’s name--was my favorite pet and playmate. I -alone fed him, and he attended me wherever I went about the house. It -was even with difficulty that I could prevent him from following me -through the streets. - -Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which -my general temperament and character--through the instrumentality of the -fiend Intemperance--had (I blush to confess it) experienced a radical -alteration for the worse. I grew, day by day, more moody, more -irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others. I suffered myself -to use intemperate language to my wife. At length I even offered her -personal violence. My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in -my disposition. I not only neglected them, but ill-used them. For Pluto, -however, I still retained sufficient regard to restrain me from -maltreating him, as I made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the -monkey or even the dog, when by accident or through affection they came -in my way. But my disease grew upon me--for what disease is like -alcohol! And at length even Pluto, who was now becoming old, and -consequently somewhat peevish--even Pluto began to experience the -effects of my ill-temper. - -One night, returning home much intoxicated from one of my haunts about -town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence. I seized him, when, in -his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight wound upon my hand with -his teeth. The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no -longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my -body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every -fiber of my frame. I took from my waistcoat pocket a penknife, opened -it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of -its eyes from the socket! I blush, I burn, I shudder while I pen the -damnable atrocity. - -When reason returned with the morning--when I had slept off the fumes of -the night’s debauch--I experienced a sentiment half of horror, half of -remorse, for the crime of which I had been guilty; but it was, at best, -a feeble and equivocal feeling, and the soul remained untouched. I again -plunged into excess, and soon drowned in wine all memory of the deed. - -In the meantime the cat slowly recovered. - -[Illustration: “_One night, returning home much intoxicated._”] - -The socket of the lost eye presented, it is true, a frightful -appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any pain. He went about -the house as usual, but, as might be expected, fled in extreme terror at -my approach. I had so much of my old heart left as to be at first -grieved by this evident dislike on the part of a creature which had once -so loved me. But this feeling soon gave place to irritation. And then -came, as if to my final and irrevocable overthrow, the spirit of -perverseness. Of this spirit philosophy takes no account. Yet I am not -more sure that my soul lives than I am that perverseness is one of the -primitive impulses of the human heart--one of the indivisible primary -faculties or sentiments which give direction to the character of man. -Who has not, hundreds of times, found himself committing a vile or silly -action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we -not a perpetual inclination, in the teeth of our best judgment, to -violate that which is Law, merely because we understand it to be such? -This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to my final overthrow. It was -this unfathomable longing of the soul to vex itself--to offer violence -to its own nature--to do wrong for the wrong’s sake only--that urged me -to continue and finally to consummate the injury I had inflicted upon -the unoffending brute. One morning, in cold blood, I slipped a noose -about its neck, and hung it to the limb of a tree; hung it with the -tears streaming from my eyes and the bitterest remorse at my heart; hung -it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given -me no offense; hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing -a sin--a deadly sin that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to -place it, if such a thing were possible--even beyond the reach of the -infinite mercy of the most merciful and most terrible God. - -On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was aroused -from sleep by the cry of “fire!” The curtains of my bed were in flames. -The whole house was blazing. It was with great difficulty that my wife, -a servant and myself made our escape from the conflagration. The -destruction was complete. My entire worldly wealth was swallowed up, and -I resigned myself thenceforward to despair. - -I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and -effect between the disaster and the atrocity. But I am detailing a chain -of facts, and wish not to leave even a possible link imperfect. On the -day succeeding the fire I visited the ruins. The walls, with one -exception, had fallen in. This exception was found in a compartment -wall, not very thick, which stood about the middle of the house, and -against which had rested the head of my bed. The plastering had here, in -great measure, resisted the action of the fire--a fact which I -attributed to its having been recently spread. About this wall a dense -crowd were collected, and many persons seemed to be examining a -particular portion of it with very minute and eager attention. The words -“strange!” “singular!” and other similar expressions excited my -curiosity. I approached and saw, as if graven in bas-relief upon the -white surface, the figure of a gigantic cat. The impression was given -with an accuracy truly marvelous. There was a rope about the animal’s -neck. - -When I first beheld this apparition--for I could scarcely regard it as -less--my wonder and my terror were extreme. But at length reflection -came to my aid. The cat, I remembered, had been hung in a garden -adjacent to the house. Upon the alarm of fire this garden had been -immediately filled by the crowd--by some one of whom the animal must -have been cut from the tree and thrown through an open window into my -chamber. This had probably been done with the view of arousing me from -sleep. The falling of other walls had compressed the victim of my -cruelty into the substance of the freshly spread plaster, the lime of -which with the flames, and the ammonia from the carcass, had then -accomplished the portraiture as I saw it. - -Although I thus readily accounted to my reason, if not altogether to my -conscience, for the - -[Illustration: “_Because I knew that it had loved me._”] - -startling fact just detailed, it did not the less fail to make a deep -impression upon my fancy. For months I could not rid myself of the -phantasm of the cat; and, during this period, there came back into my -spirit a half sentiment that seemed, but was not, remorse. I went so far -as to regret the loss of the animal, and to look about me, among the -vile haunts which I now habitually frequented, for another pet of the -same species and of somewhat similar appearance, with which to supply -its place. - -One night as I sat, half stupefied, in a den of more than infamy, my -attention was suddenly drawn to some black object, reposing upon the -head of one of the immense hogsheads of gin, or of rum, which -constituted the chief furniture of the apartment. I had been looking -steadily at the top of this hogshead for some minutes, and what now -caused me surprise was the fact that I had not sooner perceived the -object thereupon. I approached it and touched it with my hand. It was a -black cat--a very large one--fully as large as Pluto, and closely -resembling him in every respect, but only Pluto had not a white hair -upon any portion of his body; but this cat had a large, although -indefinite, splotch of white, covering nearly the whole region of the -breast. - -Upon my touching him he immediately arose, purred loudly, rubbed against -my hand, and appeared delighted with my notice. This, then, was the -very creature of which I was in search. I at once offered to purchase it -of the landlord; but this person made no claim to it--knew nothing of -it--had never seen it before. - -I continued my caresses, and when I prepared to go home the animal -evinced a disposition to accompany me. I permitted it to do so, -occasionally stooping and patting it as I proceeded. When it reached the -house it domesticated itself at once, and became immediately a great -favorite with my wife. - -For my own part, I soon found a dislike to it arising within me. This -was just the reverse of what I had anticipated; but--I know not how or -why it was--its evident fondness for myself rather disgusted and annoyed -me. By slow degrees these feelings of disgust and annoyance rose into -the bitterness of hatred. I avoided the creature; a certain sense of -shame, and the remembrance of my former deed of cruelty, preventing me -from physically abusing it. I did not, for some weeks, strike, or -otherwise violently ill use it; but gradually--very gradually--I came to -look upon it with unutterable loathing, and to flee silently from its -odious presence, as from the breath of a pestilence. - -What added, no doubt, to my hatred of the beast, was the discovery, on -the morning after I brought it home, that, like Pluto, it also had been -deprived of one of its eyes. This circumstance, however, only endeared -it to my wife, who, as I have already said, possessed, in a high degree, -that humanity of feeling which had once been my distinguishing trait, -and the source of many of my simplest and purest pleasures. - -With my aversion to this cat, however, its partiality for myself seemed -to increase. It followed my footsteps with a pertinacity which it would -be difficult to make the reader comprehend. Whenever I sat it would -crouch beneath my chair or spring upon my knees, covering me with its -loathsome caresses. If I arose to walk it would get between my feet, and -thus nearly throw me down, or, fastening its long and sharp claws in my -dress, clamber, in this manner, to my breast. At such times, although I -longed to destroy it with a blow, I was yet withheld from so doing, -partly by a memory of my former crime, but chiefly--let me confess it at -once--by absolute dread of the beast. - -This dread was not exactly a dread of physical evil--and yet I should be -at a loss how otherwise to define it. I am almost ashamed to own--yes, -even in this felon’s cell, I am almost ashamed to own--that the terror -and horror with which the animal inspired me had been heightened by one -of the merest chimeras it would be possible to conceive. My wife had -called my attention more than once, to the character of the mark of -white hair, of which I have spoken, and which - -[Illustration: “_The figure of a gigantic cat._”] - -constituted the sole visible difference between the strange beast and -the one I had destroyed. The reader will remember that this mark, -although large, had been originally very indefinite; but, by slow -degrees--degrees nearly imperceptible, and which for a long time my -reason struggled to reject as fanciful--it had, at length, assumed a -rigorous distinctness of outline. It was now the representation of an -object that I shudder to name--and for this, above all, I loathed and -dreaded, and would have rid myself of the monster had I dared--it was -now I say the image of a hideous, of a ghastly thing--of the gallows! -Oh, mournful and terrible engine of horror and of crime--of agony and of -death! - -And now was I indeed wretched beyond the wretchedness of mere humanity. -And a brute beast, whose fellow I had contemptuously destroyed--a brute -beast to work out for me--for me, a man, fashioned in the image of the -High God--so much of insufferable woe. Alas! neither by day nor night -knew I the blessing of rest any more. During the former the creature -left me no moment alone, and in the latter I started hourly from dreams -of unutterable fear, to find the hot breath of the thing upon my face, -and its vast weight--an incarnate nightmare that I had no power to shake -off--incumbent eternally upon my heart. - -Beneath the pressure of torments such as these the feeble remnants of -the good within me succumbed. Evil thoughts became my sole -intimates--the darkest and most evil of thoughts. The moodiness of my -usual temper increased to hatred of all things and of all mankind; -while, from the sudden, frequent and ungovernable outbursts of a fury to -which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining wife, alas! was -the most usual and the most patient of sufferers. - -One day she accompanied me upon some household errand into the cellar of -the old building, which our poverty compelled us to inhabit. The cat -followed me down the steep stairs, and, nearly throwing me headlong, -exasperated me to madness. Uplifting an axe, and forgetting, in my -wrath, the childish dread which had hitherto stayed my hand, I aimed a -blow at the animal which, of course, would have proved instantly fatal -had it descended as I wished. But this blow was arrested by the hand of -my wife. Goaded, by the interference, into a rage more than demoniacal, -I withdrew my arm from her grasp, and buried the ax in her brain. She -fell dead upon the spot, without a groan. - -This hideous murder accomplished, I set myself forthwith, and with -entire deliberation, to the task of concealing the body. I knew that I -could not remove it from the house, either by day or by night, without -the risk of being observed by the neighbors. Many projects entered my -mind. At one period I thought of cutting the corpse into minute -fragments and destroying them by fire. At another I resolved to dig a -grave for it in the floor of the cellar. Again, I deliberated about -casting it into the well in the yard--about packing it in a box, as if -merchandise, with the usual arrangements, and so getting a porter to -take it from the house. Finally I hit upon what I considered a far -better expedient than either of these. I determined to wall it up in the -cellar--as the monks of the middle ages are recorded to have walled up -their victims. - -For a purpose such as this the cellar was well adapted. Its walls were -loosely constructed, and had lately been plastered throughout with a -rough plaster, which the dampness of the atmosphere had prevented from -hardening. Moreover, in one of the walls was a projection, caused by a -false chimney, or fireplace, that had been filled up, and made to -resemble the rest of the cellar. I made no doubt that I could readily -displace the bricks at this point, insert the corpse, and wall the whole -up as before, so that no eye could detect anything suspicious. - -And in this calculation I was not deceived. By means of a crowbar I -easily dislodged the bricks, and, having carefully deposited the body -against the inner wall, I propped it in that position, while, with -little trouble, I relaid the whole structure as it originally stood. -Having - -[Illustration: “_An extraordinary cat._”] - -procured mortar, sand and hair with every possible precaution, I -prepared a plaster which could not be distinguished from the old, and -with this I very carefully went over the new brickwork. When I had -finished I felt satisfied that all was right. The wall did not present -the slightest appearance of having been disturbed. The rubbish on the -floor was picked up with the minutest care. I looked around triumphantly -and said to myself, “Here, at least, then, my labor has not been in -vain.” - -My next step was to look for the beast which had been the cause of so -much wretchedness, for I had at length firmly resolved to put it to -death. Had I been able to meet with it at the moment there could have -been no doubt of its fate; but it appeared that the crafty animal had -been alarmed at the violence of my previous anger and forebore to -present itself in my present mood. It is impossible to describe or to -imagine the deep, the blissful sense of relief which the absence of the -detested creature occasioned in my bosom. It did not make its appearance -during the night--and thus, for one night at least since its -introduction into the house, I soundly and tranquilly slept--aye, slept, -even with the burden of murder upon my soul! - -The second and the third day passed, and still my tormentor came not. -Once again I breathed as a free man. The monster, in terror, had fled -the premises forever! I should behold it no more! My happiness was -supreme! The guilt of my dark deed disturbed me but little. Some few -inquiries had been made, but these had been readily answered. Even a -search had been instituted--but, of course, nothing was to be -discovered. I looked upon my future felicity as secured. - -Upon the fourth day of the assassination a party of the police came very -unexpectedly into the house and proceeded again to make a rigorous -investigation of the premises. Secure, however, in the inscrutability of -my place of concealment, I felt no embarrassment whatever. The officers -bade me accompany them in their search. They left no nook or corner -unexplored. At length, for the third or fourth time, they descended into -the cellar. I quivered not in a muscle. My heart beat as calmly as that -of one who slumbers in innocence. I walked the cellar from end to end. I -folded my arms upon my bosom and roamed easily to and fro. The police -were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to depart. The glee at my heart -was too strong to be restrained. I burned to say but one word, by way of -triumph, and to render doubly sure their assurance of my guiltlessness. - -“Gentlemen,” I said at last, as the party ascended the steps, “I delight -to have allayed your suspicions. I wish you all health and a little -more courtesy. By the by, gentlemen, this--this is a very well -constructed house.” (In the rabid desire to say something easily I -scarcely knew what I uttered at all.) “I may say an excellently well -constructed house. These walls--are you going, gentlemen?--these walls -are solidly put together;” and here, through the mere frenzy of bravado, -I rapped heavily, with a cane which I held in my hand, upon that very -portion of the brickwork behind which stood the corpse of the wife of my -bosom. - -But may God shield and deliver me from the fangs of the Arch Fiend! No -sooner had the reverberation of my blows sunk into silence than I was -answered by a voice from within the tomb!--by a cry, at first muffled -and broken, like the sobbing of a child, and then quickly swelling into -one long, loud and continuous scream, utterly anomalous and inhuman--a -howl!--a wailing shriek, half of horror and half of triumph, such as -might have arisen only out of hell, conjointly from the throats of the -damned in their agony and of the demons that exult in the damnation. - -Of my own thoughts it is folly to speak. Swooning, I staggered to the -opposite wall. For an instant the party upon the stairs remained -motionless, through extremity of terror and of awe. In the next a dozen -stout arms were toiling at the wall. It fell bodily. The corpse, already -getting decayed and clotted with gore, stood erect before the eyes of -the spectators. Upon its head, with red, extended mouth and solitary eye -of fire, sat the hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into murder, -and whose informing voice had consigned me to the hangman. I had walled -the monster up within the tomb! - - - - -THE FLAYED HAND. - -BY GUY DE MAUPASSANT. - - -One evening about eight months ago I met with some college comrades at -the lodgings of our friend Louis R. We drank punch and smoked, talked of -literature and art, and made jokes like any other company of young men. -Suddenly the door flew open, and one who had been my friend since -boyhood burst in like a hurricane. - -“Guess where I come from?” he cried. - -“I bet on the Mabille,” responded one. “No,” said another, “you are too -gay; you come from borrowing money, from burying a rich uncle, or from -pawning your watch.” “You are getting sober,” cried a third, “and, as -you scented the punch in Louis’ room, you came up here to get drunk -again.” - -“You are all wrong,” he replied. “I come from P., in Normandy, where I -have spent eight days, and whence I have brought one of my friends, a -great criminal, whom I ask permission to present to you.” - -With these words he drew from his pocket a long, black hand, from which -the skin had been stripped. It had been severed at the wrist. Its dry -and shriveled shape, and the narrow, yellowed nails still clinging to -the fingers, made it frightful to look upon. The muscles, which showed -that its first owner had been possessed of great strength, were bound in -place by a strip of parchment-like skin. - -“Just fancy,” said my friend, “the other day they sold the effects of an -old sorcerer, recently deceased, well known in all the country. Every -Saturday night he used to go to witch gatherings on a broomstick; he -practised the white magic and the black, gave blue milk to the cows, and -made them wear tails like that of the companion of Saint Anthony. The -old scoundrel always had a deep affection for this hand, which, he said, -was that of a celebrated criminal, executed in 1736 for having thrown -his lawful wife head first into a well--for which I do not blame -him--and then hanging in the belfry the priest who had married him. -After this double exploit he went away, and, during his subsequent -career, which was brief but exciting, he robbed twelve travelers, smoked -a score of monks in their monastery, and made a seraglio of a convent.” - -“But what are you going to do with this horror?” we cried. - -“Eh! parbleu! I will make it the handle to my door-bell and frighten my -creditors.” - -“My friend,” said Henry Smith, a big, phlegmatic Englishman, “I believe -that this hand is only a kind of Indian meat, preserved by a new -process; I advise you to make bouillon of it.” - -“Rail not, messieurs,” said, with the utmost sang froid, a medical -student who was three-quarters drunk, “but if you follow my advice, -Pierre, you will give this piece of human debris Christian burial, for -fear lest its owner should come to demand it. Then, too, this hand has -acquired some bad habits, for you know the proverb, ‘Who has killed will -kill.’” - -“And who has drank will drink,” replied the host as he poured out a big -glass of punch for the student, who emptied it at a draught and slid -dead drunk under the table. His sudden dropping out of the company was -greeted with a burst of laughter, and Pierre, raising his glass and -saluting the hand, cried: - -“I drink to the next visit of thy master.” - -Then the conversation turned upon other subjects, and shortly afterward -each returned to his lodgings. - - * * * * * - -About two o’clock the next day, as I was passing Pierre’s door, I -entered and found him reading and smoking. - -“Well, how goes it?” said I. “Very well,” he responded. “And your hand?” -“My hand? Did you not see it on the bell-pull? I put it there when I -returned home last night. But, apropos of this, what do you think? Some -idiot, doubtless to play a stupid joke on me, came ringing at my door -towards midnight. I demanded who was there, but as no one replied, I -went back to bed again, and to sleep.” - -At this moment the door opened and the landlord, a fat and extremely -impertinent person, entered without saluting us. - -“Sir,” said he, “I pray you to take away immediately that carrion which -you have hung to your bell-pull. Unless you do this I shall be compelled -to ask you to leave.” - -“Sir,” responded Pierre, with much gravity, “you insult a hand which -does not merit it. Know you that it belonged to a man of high breeding?” - -The landlord turned on his heel and made his exit, without speaking. -Pierre followed him, detached the hand and affixed it to the bell-cord -hanging in his alcove. - -“That is better,” he said. “This hand, like the ‘Brother, all must die,’ -of the Trappists, will give my thoughts a serious turn every night -before I sleep.” - -At the end of an hour I left him and returned to my own apartment. - -I slept badly the following night, was nervous and agitated, and several -times awoke with a start. Once I imagined, even, that a man had broken -into my room, and I sprang up and searched the closets and under the -bed. Towards six o’clock in the morning I was commencing to doze at -last, when a loud knocking at my door made me jump from my couch. It was -my friend Pierre’s servant, half dressed, pale and trembling. - -“Ah, sir!” cried he, sobbing, “my poor master. Someone has murdered -him.” - -I dressed myself hastily and ran to Pierre’s lodgings. The house was -full of people disputing together, and everything was in a commotion. -Everyone was talking at the same time, recounting and commenting on the -occurrence in all sorts of ways. With great difficulty I reached the -bedroom, made myself known to those guarding the door and was permitted -to enter. Four agents of police were standing in the middle of the -apartment, pencils in hand, examining every detail, conferring in low -voices and writing from time to time in their note-books. Two doctors -were in consultation by the bed on which lay the unconscious form of -Pierre. He was not dead, but his face was fixed in an expression of the -most awful terror. His eyes were open their widest, and the dilated -pupils seemed to regard fixedly, with unspeakable horror, something -unknown and frightful. His hands were clinched. I raised the quilt, -which covered his body from the chin downward, and saw on his neck, -deeply sunk in the flesh, the marks of fingers. Some drops of blood -spotted his shirt. At that moment one thing struck me. I chanced to -notice that the shriveled hand was no longer attached to the bell-cord. -The doctors had doubtless removed it to avoid the comments of those -entering the chamber where the wounded man lay, because the appearance -of this hand was indeed frightful. I did not inquire what had become of -it. - -I now clip from a newspaper of the next day the story of the crime with -all the details that the police were able to procure: - -“A frightful attempt was made yesterday on the life of young M. Pierre -B., student, who belongs to one of the best families in Normandy. He -returned home about ten o’clock in the evening, and excused his valet, -Bouvin, from further attendance upon him, saying that he felt fatigued -and was going to bed. Towards midnight Bouvin was suddenly awakened by -the furious ringing of his master’s bell. He was afraid, and lighted a -lamp and waited. The bell was silent about a minute, then rang again -with such vehemence that the domestic, mad with fright, flew from his -room to awaken the concierge, who ran to summon the police, and, at the -end of about fifteen minutes, two policemen forced open the door. A -horrible sight met their eyes. The furniture was overturned, giving -evidence of a fearful struggle between the victim and his assailant. In -the middle of the room, upon his back, his body rigid, with livid face -and frightfully dilated eyes, lay, motionless, young Pierre B., bearing -upon his neck the deep imprints of five fingers. Dr. Bourdean was called -immediately, and his report says that the aggressor must have been -possessed of prodigious strength and have had an extraordinarily thin -and sinewy hand, because the fingers left in the flesh of the victim -five holes like those from a pistol ball, and had penetrated until they -almost met. There is no clue to the motive of the crime or to its -perpetrator. The police are making a thorough investigation.” - -The following appeared in the same newspaper next day: - -“M. Pierre B., the victim of the frightful assault of which we published -an account yesterday, has regained consciousness after two hours of the -most assiduous care by Dr. Bourdean. His life is not in danger, but it -is strongly feared that he has lost his reason. No trace has been found -of his assailant.” - -My poor friend was indeed insane. For seven months I visited him daily -at the hospital where we had placed him, but he did not recover the -light of reason. In his delirium strange words escaped him, and, like -all madmen, he had one fixed idea: he believed himself continually -pursued by a specter. One day they came for me in haste, saying he was -worse, and when I arrived I found him dying. For two hours he remained -very calm, then, suddenly, rising from his bed in spite of our efforts, -he cried, waving his arms as if a prey to the most awful terror: “Take -it away! Take it away! It strangles me! Help! Help!” Twice he made the -circuit of the room, uttering horrible screams, then fell face downward, -dead. - - * * * * * - -As he was an orphan I was charged to take his body to the little village -of P., in Normandy, where his parents were buried. It was the place from -which he had arrived the evening he found us drinking punch in Louis -R.’s room, when he had presented to us the flayed hand. His body was -inclosed in a leaden coffin, and four days afterwards I walked sadly -beside the old cure, who had given him his first lessons, to the little -cemetery where they dug his grave. It was a beautiful day, and sunshine -from a cloudless sky flooded the earth. Birds sang from the blackberry -bushes where many a time when we were children we had stolen to eat the -fruit. Again I saw Pierre and myself creeping along behind the hedge and -slipping through the gap that we knew so well, down at the end of the -little plot where they bury the poor. Again we would return to the house -with cheeks and lips black with the juice of the berries we had eaten. I -looked at the bushes; they were covered with fruit; mechanically I -picked some and bore it to my mouth. The cure had opened his breviary, -and was muttering his prayers in a low voice. I heard at the end of the -walk the spades of the grave-diggers who were opening the tomb. Suddenly -they called out, the cure closed his book, and we went to see what they -wished of us. They had found a coffin; in digging a stroke of the -pickaxe had started the cover, and we perceived within a skeleton of -unusual stature, lying on its back, its hollow eyes seeming yet to -menace and defy us. I was troubled, I know not why, and almost afraid. - -“Hold!” cried one of the men, “look there! One of the rascal’s hands has -been severed at the wrist. Ah, here it is!” and he picked up from beside -the body a huge withered hand, and held it out to us. - -“See,” cried the other, laughing, “see how he glares at you, as if he -would spring at your throat to make you give him back his hand.” - -“Go,” said the cure, “leave the dead in peace, and close the coffin. We -will make poor Pierre’s grave elsewhere.” - -The next day all was finished, and I returned to Paris, after having -left fifty francs with the old cure for masses to be said for the repose -of the soul of him whose sepulchre we had troubled. - - - - -THE VENGEANCE OF A TREE. - -BY ELEANOR F. LEWIS. - - -Through the windows of Jim Daly’s saloon, in the little town of C----, -the setting sun streamed in yellow patches, lighting up the glasses -scattered on the tables and the faces of several men who were gathered -near the bar. Farmers mostly they were, with a sprinkling of -shopkeepers, while prominent among them was the village editor, and all -were discussing a startling piece of news that had spread through the -town and its surroundings. The tidings that Walter Stedman, a laborer on -Albert Kelsey’s ranch, had assaulted and murdered his employer’s -daughter, had reached them, and had spread universal horror among the -people. - -A farmer declared that he had seen the deed committed as he walked -through a neighboring lane, and, having always been noted for his -cowardice, instead of running to the girl’s aid, had hailed a party of -miners who were returning from their mid-day meal through a field near -by. When they reached the spot, however, where Stedman (as they -supposed) had done his black deed, only the girl lay there, in the -stillness of death. Her murderer had taken the opportunity to fly. The -party had searched the woods of the Kelsey estate, and just as they were -nearing the house itself the appearance of Walter Stedman, walking in a -strangely unsteady manner toward it, made them quicken their pace. - -He was soon in custody, although he had protested his innocence of the -crime. He said that he had just seen the body himself on his way to the -station, and that when they had found him he was going to the house for -help. But they had laughed at his story and had flung him into the tiny, -stifling calaboose of the town. - -What were their proofs? Walter Stedman, a young fellow of about -twenty-six, had come from the city to their quiet town, just when times -were at their hardest, in search of work. The most of the men living in -the town were honest fellows, doing their work faithfully, when they -could get it, and when they had socially asked Stedman to have a drink -with them, he had refused in rather a scornful manner. “That infernal -city chap,” he was called, and their hate and envy increased in strength -when Albert Kelsey had employed him in preference to any of themselves. -As time went on, the story of Stedman’s admiration for Margaret Kelsey -had gone afloat, with the added information that his employer’s -daughter had repulsed him, saying that she would not marry a common -laborer. So Stedman, when this news reached his employer’s ears, was -discharged, and this, then, was his revenge! For them, these proofs were -sufficient to pronounce him guilty. - -Yet that afternoon, as Stedman, crouched on the floor of the calaboose, -grew hopeless in the knowledge that no one would believe his story, and -that his undeserved punishment would be swift and sure, a tramp, -boarding a freight car several miles from the town, sped away from the -spot where his crime had been committed, and knew that forever its -shadow would follow him. - -From the tiny window of his prison Walter Stedman could see the red glow -of the heavens that betokened the setting of the sun. So the red sun of -his life was soon to set, a life that had been innocent of all crime, -and that now was to be ended for a deed that he had never committed. -Most prominent of all the visions that swept through his mind was that -of Margaret Kelsey, lying as he had first found her, fresh from the -hands of her murderer. But there was another of a more tender nature. -How long he and Margaret had tried to keep their secret, until Walter -could be promoted to a higher position, so that he could ask for her -hand with no fear of the father’s antagonism! Then came the remembrance -of an afternoon meeting between the two in the woods of the Kelsey -estate--how, just as they were parting, Walter had heard footsteps near -them, and, glancing sharply around, saw an evil, scowling, murderous -face peering through the brush. He had started toward it, but the owner -of the countenance had taken himself hurriedly off. - -The gossiping townspeople had misconstrued this romance, and when Albert -Kelsey had heard of this clandestine meeting from the man who was later -on to appear as a leader of the mob, and that he had discharged Stedman, -they had believed that the young man had formally proposed and had been -rejected. But justice had gone wrong, as it had done innumerable times -before, and will again. An innocent man was to be hanged, even without -the comfort of a trial, while the man who was guilty was free to wander -where he would. - -That autumn night the darkness came quickly, and only the stars did -their best to light the scene. A body of men, all masked, and having as -a leader one who had ever since Stedman’s arrival in town, cherished a -secret hatred of the young man, dragged Stedman from the calaboose and -tramped through the town, defying all, defying even God himself. Along -the highway, and into Farmer Brown’s “cross cut,” they went, vigilantly -guarding their prisoner, who, with the lanterns lighting up his haggard -face, walked among them with the lagging step of utter hopelessness. - -“That’s a good tree,” their leader said, presently, stopping and -pointing out a spreading oak; when the slipknot was adjusted and Stedman -had stepped on the box, he added: “If you’ve got anything to say, you’d -better say it now.” - -“I am innocent, I swear before God,” the doomed man answered; “I never -took the life of Margaret Kelsey.” - -“Give us your proof,” jeered the leader, and when Stedman kept a -despairing silence, he laughed shortly. - -“Ready, men!” he gave the order. The box was kicked aside, and -then--only a writhing body swung to and fro in the gloom. - -In front of the men stood their leader, watching the contortions of the -body with silent glee. “I’ll tell you a secret, boys,” he said suddenly. -“I was after that poor murdered girl myself. A d---- little chance I -had; but, by ----, he had just as little!” - -A pause--then: “He’s shunted this earth. Cut him down, you fellows!” - - * * * * * - -“It’s no use, son. I’ll give up the blasted thing as a bad job. There’s -something queer about that there tree. Do you see how its branches -balance it? We have cut the trunk nearly in two, but it won’t come down. -There’s plenty of others around; we’ll take one of them. If I’d a long -rope with me I’d get that tree down, and yet the way the thing stands it -would be risking a fellow’s life to climb it. It’s got the devil in it, -sure.” - -So old Farmer Brown shouldered his axe and made for another tree, his -son following. They had sawed and chopped and chopped and sawed, and yet -the tall white oak, with its branches jutting out almost as regularly as -if done by the work of a machine, stood straight and firm. - -Farmer Brown, well known for his weak, cowardly spirit, who in beholding -the murder of Albert Kelsey’s daughter, had in his fright mistaken the -criminal, now in his superstition let the oak stand, because its -well-balanced position saved it from falling, when other trees would -have been down. And so this tree, the same one to which an innocent man -had been hanged, was left--for other work. - -It was a bleak, rainy night--such a night as can be found only in -central California. The wind howled like a thousand demons, and lashed -the trees together in wild embraces. Now and then the weird “hoot, -hoot!” of an owl came softly from the distance in the lulls of the -storm, while the barking of coyotes woke the echoes of the hills into -sounds like fiendish laughter. - -In the wind and rain a man fought his path through the bush and into -Farmer Brown’s “cross cut,” as the shortest way home. Suddenly he -stopped, trembling, as if held by some unseen impulse. Before him rose -the white oak, wavering and swaying in the storm. - -“Good God! it’s the tree I swung Stedman from!” he cried, and a strange -fear thrilled him. - -His eyes were fixed on it, held by some undefinable fascination. Yes, -there on one of the longest branches a small piece of rope still -dangled. And then, to the murderer’s excited vision, this rope seemed to -lengthen, to form at the end into a slipknot, a knot that encircled a -purple neck, while below it writhed and swayed the body of a man! - -“Damn him!” he muttered, starting toward the hanging form, as if about -to help the rope in its work of strangulation; “will he forever follow -me? And yet he deserved it, the black-hearted villain! He took her -life----” - -He never finished the sentence. The white oak, towering above him in its -strength, seemed to grow like a frenzied, living creature. There was a -sudden splitting sound, then came a crash, and under the fallen tree lay -Stedman’s murderer, crushed and mangled. - -From between the broken trunk and the stump that was left, a gray, dim -shape sprang out, and sped past the man’s still form, away into the wild -blackness of the night. - - - - -THE PARLOR-CAR GHOST. - - -All draped with blue denim--the seaside cottage of my friend, Sara Pyne. -She asked me to go there with her when she opened it to have it set in -order for the summer. She confessed that she felt a trifle nervous at -the idea of entering it alone. And I am always ready for an excursion. -So much blue denim rather surprised me, because blue is not -complimentary to Sara’s complexion--she always wears some shade of red, -by preference. She perceived my wonder; she is very near-sighted, and -therefore sees everything by some sort of sixth sense. - -“You do not like my portieres and curtains and table-covers,” said she. -“Neither do I. But I did it to accommodate. And now he rests well in his -grave, I hope.” - -“Whose grave, for pity’s sake?” - -“Mr. J. Billington Price’s.” - -“And who is he? He doesn’t sound interesting.” - -“Then I will tell you about him,” said Sara, taking a seat directly in -front of one of those curtains. “Last autumn I was leaving this place -for New York, traveling on the fast express train known as the Flying -Yankee. Of course, I thought of the Flying Dutchman and Wagner’s musical -setting of the uncanny legend, and how different things are in these -days of steam, etc. Then I looked out of the window at the landscape, -the horizon that seemed to wheel in a great curve as the train sped on. -Every now and then I had an impression at the ‘tail of the eye’ that a -man was sitting in a chair three or four numbers in front of me on the -opposite side of the car. Each time that I saw this shape I looked at -the chair and ascertained that it was unoccupied. But it was an odd -trick of vision. I raised my lorgnette, and the chair showed emptier -than before. There was nobody in it, certainly. But the more I knew that -it was vacant the more plainly I saw the man. Always with the corner of -my eye. It made me nervous. When passengers entered the car I dreaded -lest they might take that seat. What would happen if they should? A bag -was put in the chair--that made me uncomfortable. The bag was removed at -the next station. Then a baby was placed in the seat. It began to laugh -as though someone had gently tickled it. There was something odd about -that chair--thirteen was its number. When I looked away from it the -impression was strong upon me that some person sitting there was -watching me. - -“Really, it would not do to humor such fancies. So I touched the -electric button, asked the porter to bring me a table, and taking from -my bag a pack of cards, proceeded to divert myself with a game of -patience. I was puzzling where to put a seven of spades. ‘Where can it -go?’ I murmured to myself. A voice behind me prompted: ‘Play the four of -diamonds on the five, and you can do it.’ I started. The only occupants -of the car, besides me, were a bridal couple, a mother with three little -children, and a typical preacher of one of the straitest sects. Who had -spoken? ‘Play up the four, madam,’ repeated this voice. - -“I looked fearfully over my shoulder. At first I saw a bluish cloud, -like cigar smoke, but inodorous. Then the vision cleared, and I saw a -young man whom I knew by a subtle intuition to be the occupant, seen and -not seen, of chair number thirteen. Evidently he was a traveling -salesman--and a ghost. Of course, a drummer’s ghost sounds -ridiculous--they’re so extremely alive! Or else you would expect a dead -drummer to be particularly dead and not ‘walk.’ This was a most -commonplace-looking ghost, cordial, pushing, businesslike. At the same -time, his face had an expression of utter despair and horror which made -him still more preposterous. Of course it is not nice to let a stranger -speak to one, even on so impersonal a topic as a four of diamonds. But a -ghost--there can’t be any rule of etiquette about talking with a ghost! -My dear, it was dreadful! That forward creature showed me how to play -all the cards, and then begged me to lay them out again, in order that -he might give me some clever points. I was too much amazed and disturbed -to speak. I could only place the cards at his suggestion. This I did so -as not to appear to be listening to the empty air, and be supposed to be -a crazy woman. Presently the ghost spoke again, and told me his story. - -“‘Madam,’ he said, ‘I have been riding back and forth on this car ever -since February 22, 189--. Seven months and eleven days. All this time I -have not exchanged a word with anyone. For a drummer, that is pretty -hard, you may believe! You know the story of the Flying Dutchman? Well, -that is very nearly my case. A curse is upon me and will not be removed -until some kind soul----. But I’m getting ahead of my text. That day -there were four of us, traveling for different houses. One of the boys -was in wool, one in baking powder, one in boots and shoes, and myself in -cotton goods. We met on the road, took seats together and fell into -talking shop. - -“‘Those fellows told big lies about their sales, Washington’s Birthday -though it was. The baking powder man raised the amount of the bills of -goods which he had sold better than a whole can of his stuff could have -done. I admitted the straight truth, that I had not yet been able to -make a sale. And then I swore--not in a light-minded, chipper style of -verbal trimmings, but a great, round, heaven-defying oath--that I would -sell a case of blue denims on that trip if it took me forever. We became -dry with talk, and when the train stopped at Rivermouth, we went out to -have some beer. It is good there, you know--pardon me, I forgot that I -was speaking to a lady. Well, we had to run to get aboard. I missed my -footing, fell under the wheels, and the next thing that I knew they were -holding an inquest over my remains; while I, disemboweled, was sitting -on a corner of the undertaker’s table, wondering which of the coroner’s -jury was likely to want a case of blue denims. - -“‘Then I remembered my wicked oath, and understood that I was a soul -doomed to wander until I could succeed in selling that bill of goods. I -spoke once or twice, offering the denims under value, but nobody noticed -me. Verdict: accidental death; negligence of deceased; railroad -corporation not to blame; deceased got out for beer at his own risk. The -other drummers took charge of the remains, and wrote a beautiful letter -to my relatives about my social qualities and my impressive -conversation. I wish it had been less impressive that time! I might have -lied about my sales, or I might have said that I hoped for better luck. -But after that oath there was nothing for it. Back and forth, back and -forth, on this road, in chair number thirteen, to all eternity. Nobody -suspects my presence. They sit on my knees--I’m playing in luck when it -is a nice baby as it was this afternoon! They pile wraps, bags, even -railway literature on me. They play cards under my nose--and what -duffers some of them are! You, madam, are the first person who has -perceived me; and therefore I ventured to speak to you, meaning no -offense. I can see that you are sorry for me. Now, if you recall the -story of the Flying Dutchman, he was saved by the charity of a good -woman. In fact, Senta married him. Now I’m not asking anything of that -size. I see that you wear a wedding ring, and no doubt you make some -man’s happiness. I wasn’t a marrying man myself, and, naturally, am not -a marrying ghost. And that has nothing to do with the matter anyway. But -if you could--I don’t suppose you would have any use for them--but if -you were disposed to do a turn of good, solid, Christian charity--I -should be everlastingly grateful, and you may have that case of denims -at $72.50. And that quality is quoted to-day at $80. Does it go, madam?’ - -“The speech of the poor ghost was not very eloquent, but his eyes had an -intense, eager glare, which was terrible. Something--pity, fear, I do -not know what--compelled me. I decided to do without that white and gold -evening cloak. Instead, I gave $72.50 to the ghost and took from him a -receipt for the sum, signed J. Billington Price. Then he smiled -contentedly, thanked me with emotion, and returned to chair number -thirteen. Several times on the journey, although I did not perceive him -again, I felt dazed. When the train arrived at New York, and I, with the -other passengers, dismounted, it seemed to me that a strong hand passed -under my elbow, steadying me down the steps. As I walked the length of -the station my bag--not heavy at any time--appeared to become -weightless. I believe that the parlor-car ghost walked beside me, -carrying the bag, whose handle still remained in my other hand. Indeed, -once or twice I thought I felt the touch of cold fingers against mine. -Since then I have no reason to suppose that the poor ghost is not at -rest. I hope he is. - -“But I never expected nor wished for the blue denims. The next day, -however, a dray belonging to a great wholesale house backed up to our -door and delivered a case of denims, with a receipted bill for the same. -What was I to do? I could not go about selling blue denims; I could not -give them away without exciting comment. So I furnished the cottage with -them--and you know the effect on my complexion. Pity me, dear! And -credit me, frivolous woman as I am, with having saved a soul at the -expense of my own vanity. My story is told. What do you think about -it?” - - - - -GHOST OF BUCKSTOWN INN. - -BY ARNOLD M. ANDERSON. - - -Several travel-worn drummers sat in the lobby exchanging yarns. It was -Rodney Green’s turn, and he looked wise and began his tale. - -“I don’t claim, by any means, that the belief in ghosts is a general -thing in Arkansas, but I do say that I had an experience out there a few -years ago. - -“It was late in the fall, and I happened to be in the village of -Buckstown, which desecrates a very limited portion of the State. The -town is about as small and dirty a place as ever I saw, and the -Buckstown Inn is not much above the general character of the place. The -region is inhabited by natives who still cling to all sorts of foolish -superstitions. The inn, in the ante-bellum days, was kept by one who was -said to be the meanest and most crabbed of mortals. The old demon was as -miserly as he was mean, and all his narrow life he hoarded his filthy -lucre with fiendish greed. Report had it also that he had even murdered -his patrons in their beds for their money. What the facts actually were -I don’t know, but even to this day the old inn is held in suspicion. A -lingering effect of former horrors still clouds its memory. - -“The present proprietor, Bunk Watson--his real name is Bunker, I -believe--is an altogether different sort of chap--a Southern type, in -fact--one of those shiftless, heedless, happy-go-lucky mortals who loves -strong whiskey and who chews an enormous quid of black tobacco and -smokes a corncob pipe at the same time. - -“When the former keeper ‘shuffled off,’ his property fell to a distant -relative, the present keeper, who, with his family, immediately moved in -from a neighboring hamlet and took possession. It was well known that -the old proprietor had accumulated considerable wealth during his -sojourn among the living, but all efforts to discover any treasure upon -the premises had failed, and now the idea of ever finding it was -practically given up. As far as Bunk was concerned, the matter troubled -him little. He had a hard-working wife who ran things the best she could -under the circumstances, and saw that his meals were forthcoming at -their respective intervals. What more could he wish? Why should he care -if there was a treasure buried upon his place? Indeed, it would have -been a sore puzzle for him to know what to do with a fortune unless -perhaps his wife came to his aid. - -“Among the stories that hovered in the history of the Buckstown Inn was -one which involved a ghost. In the room where the former keeper had died -peculiar noises were heard at unearthly hours: sighing, moaning, and, in -fact, all the other indications which point to the existence of ghosts, -were said to be present. On account of this the chamber had long since -been abandoned. - -“I listened with keen interest to the wonderful tales about the haunted -room, and then suddenly resolved to investigate--to sleep in that -chamber that very night and see for myself all that was to be seen. I -told Buck of my purpose. He shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, but -instead of warning me and offering a flood of protests, as I expected, -he merely took his pipe from his mouth, let fly a quart or so of -yellowish juice from between a pair of brown-stained lips, and, opening -one corner of his wide mouth, lazily called out: ‘Jane.’ His wife -appeared, and he intimated that I should settle the matter with the ‘old -woman.’ The prospect of a fee persuaded the wife, and off she went to -arrange for my bed in that ill-fated room. - -“At nine o’clock that evening I bid the family good-night, took my -candle, ascended the rickety stairs and entered the chamber of horrors. -The atmosphere was heavy and had a peculiar odor that was not at all -pleasing. However, I latched the door and was soon in bed. Having -propped myself up with pillows, I was prepared to await the coming of -the ghost. - -“Overhead the dusty rafters, which once had experienced the sensation of -being whitewashed, but which were now a dirty, yellowish color, were -hung with a fantastic array of cobwebs. The flickering light of the -candle reflected upon the walls and against the ceiling a pyramid of -grotesque shapes, and with this effect being continually disturbed by -the swaying cobwebs, the whole caused the room to appear rather ghostly -after all, and especially so to an imaginative mind. - -“I waited and waited for hours, it seemed, but still no ghost. Perhaps -it was afraid of my candle light, so I blew it out. No sooner had I done -this and settled back in bed again than a white hand appeared through -the door, then a whole figure--at last the ghost had come, a white and -sheeted ghost! - -“It had come right through the door, although it was locked, and now it -advanced toward the bed. Raising its long, white arm, it pointed a bony -finger at me, and then commanded: ‘Come with me!’ Thereupon it turned to -the door, while instantly I jumped out of bed to follow. Some unseen -power compelled me to obey. The door flew open and the ghost led me down -the stairs, through long halls into the cellar, through mysterious -underground corridors, upstairs again, in and out rooms which I never -dreamed were to be found in that old rambling inn. Finally, through a -small door in the rear, we left the house. I was in my sleeping -garments, but no matter, I had to follow. - -“The white form, with a slow and measured tread and as silent as death, -led the way into the orchard. There, under a tree at the farther end, it -pointed to the ground, and in the same ghostly tones before used, said: - -“‘Here you will find a great treasure buried.’ - -“The ghost then disappeared, and I saw it no more. I stood dazed and -trembling. Upon recovering my wits I started to dig, but the chill of -the night air and the scantiness of my night robes made such labor -impracticable. So I decided to leave some mark to identify the place and -come around again at daybreak. I reached up and broke off a limb. -Overcome with my night’s exertions I slept the next morning until a loud -rapping on my door and a croaking voice warned me that it was noon. - -“I had intended to leave Buckstown Inn that day, but, prompted by -curiosity and anxious to investigate, I unpacked my gripsack for a -comfortable stay. - -“You must understand that this was my first experience with a ghost, and -I feared I might never see another. - -“At breakfast my landlady waited on me in silence, though once I -detected her eyes following me with a peculiar expression. She wanted to -ask me how I enjoyed the night, but I would not gratify her by -volunteering a word. - -“My host was more outspoken. - -“‘Reckon ye didn’t get much sleep,’ said he, with a queer smile. - -“‘Did you hear anything?’ I asked. - -“‘Well, I did--ye-es,’ he said, with a drawl. ‘But ye didn’t disturb me -any. I knew ye’d hev trouble when ye went in thet room ter sleep.’ - -“That afternoon I slipped out to the tree. But to my amazement I found -that the twig I had broken from the branches was gone. Finally I found -under the lower trunk of an apple tree an open place from which a small -branch had evidently been wrested. But on looking further, I discovered -that every apple tree in the orchard had been similarly disfigured. - -“‘More mysterious than ever,’ I said; ‘but to-night shall decide.’ - -“That night I pleaded weariness, which no one seemed inclined to -question, and sought my couch earlier. - -“‘Goin’ ter try it again?’ asked my host. - -“‘Yes; and I’ll stay all winter but what I’ll get even with that ghost,’ -I said. - -“That night I kept the candle burning until midnight, when I blew it -out. - -“Instantly the room was flooded with a soft light, and at the foot of -the bed stood my ghost, the identical ghost of last night. - -“Again the bony finger beckoned and a sepulchral voice whispered, -‘Follow me!’ I sprang from the bed, but the figure darted ahead of me. -It flew through the doorway and down the stairs, and I after it. At the -foot of the staircase an unseen hand reached forward and caught my foot -and I fell sprawling headlong. - -“But in a second I was on my feet and pursuing the ghost. It had gained -on me a few yards, but I was quicker, and just as we reached the outside -door I nearly touched its robes. They sent a chill through my frame, and -I nearly gave up the pursuit. - -“As it passed through the doorway it turned and gave me one look, and I -caught the same malignant light in its eyes that I remembered from the -night before. - -“In the open orchard I felt sure I could catch it. - -“But my ghost had no intention of allowing me any such opportunity. To -my disgust, it darted backward and into the house, slamming the door in -my face. - -“In my frenzy of fear and chagrin I threw myself against the oaken door -with such force that its rusty old hinges yielded and I landed in the -big front room of the inn just in time to see the white skirts of the -ghost flit up the stairs. - -“Upstairs I flew after it, and into an old chamber. There, huddled in a -corner, I saw it. In the minute’s delay it had secured a lighted candle -and, as I entered, it advanced to daunt me with bony arm upraised to a -great height. - -“‘Caught!’ I cried, throwing my arms around the figure. And I had made -the acquaintance of a real live ghost. - -“The white robes fell, and I saw revealed my hostess of Buckstown Inn. - -“Next morning, when I threatened to call the police, she confessed to me -that she masqueraded as a ghost to draw visitors to the out-of-the-way -old place, and that she found its tale of being haunted highly -profitable to her.” - - - - -THE BURGLAR’S GHOST. - - -I am not an imaginative man, and no one who knows me can say that I have -ever indulged in sentimental ideas upon any subject. I am rather -predisposed, in fact, to look at everything from a purely practical -standpoint, and this quality has been further developed in me by the -fact that for twenty years I have been an active member of the detective -police force at Westford, a large town in one of our most important -manufacturing districts. A policeman, as most people will readily -believe, has to deal with so much practical life that he has small -opportunity for developing other than practical qualities, and he is -more apt to believe in tangible things than in ideas of a somewhat -superstitious nature. However, I was once under the firm conviction that -I had been largely helped up the ladder of life by the ghost of a once -well-known burglar. I have told the story to many, and have heard it -commented upon in various fashions. Whether the comments were satirical -or practical, it made no difference to me; I had a firm faith at that -time in the truth of my tale. - -Eighteen years ago I was a plain clothes officer at Westford. I was then -twenty-three years of age, and very anxious about two matters. First and -foremost I desired promotion; second, I wished to be married. Of course -I was more eager about the second than the first, because my sweetheart, -Alice Moore, was one of the prettiest and cleverest girls in the town; -but I put promotion first for the simple reason that with me promotion -must come before marriage. Knowing this, I was always on the lookout for -a chance of distinguishing myself, and I paid such attention to my -duties that my superiors began to notice me, and foretold a successful -career for me in the future. - -One evening in the last week of September, 1873, I was sitting in my -lodgings wondering what I could do to earn the promotion which I so -earnestly wished for. Things were quiet just then in Westford, and I am -afraid I half wished that something dreadful might occur if I only could -have a share in it. I was pursuing this train of thought when I suddenly -heard a voice say, “Good evening, officer.” - -I turned sharply around. It was almost dusk and my lamp was not lighted. -For all that, I could see clearly enough a man who was sitting by a -chest of drawers that stood between the door and the window. His chair -stood between the drawers and the door, and I concluded that he had -quietly entered my room and seated himself before addressing me. - -“Good evening!” I replied. “I didn’t hear you come in.” - -He laughed when I said that--a low, chuckling, rather sly laugh. “No,” -he said, “I dessay not, officer. I’m a very quiet sort of person. You -might say, in fact, noiseless. Just so.” - -I looked at him narrowly, feeling considerably surprised and astonished -at his presence. He was a thickly built man, with a square face and -heavy chin. His nose was small, but aggressive; his eyes were little and -overshadowed by heavy eyebrows; I could see them twinkle when he spoke. -As for his dress, it was in keeping with his face. - -He wore a rough suit of woolen or frieze; a thick, gayly colored Belcher -neckerchief encircled his bull-like throat, and in his big hands he -continually twirled and twisted a fur cap, made apparently out of the -skin of some favorite dog. As he sat there smiling at me and saying -nothing, it made me feel uncomfortable. - -“What do you want with me?” I asked. - -“Just a little matter o’ business,” he answered. - -“You should have gone to the office,” I said. “We’re not supposed to do -business at home.” - -“Right you are, guv’nor,” he replied; “but I wanted to see you. It’s you -that’s got to do my job. If I’d ha’ seen the superintendent he might -ha’ put somebody else on to it. That wouldn’t ha’ suited me. You see, -officer, you’re young, and nat’rally eager-like for promotion. Eh?” - -“What is it you want?” I inquired again. - -“Ain’t you eager to be promoted?” he reiterated. “Ain’t you now, -officer?” - -I saw no reason why I should conceal the fact, even from this strange -visitor. I admitted that I was eager for promotion. - -“Ah!” he said, with a satisfied smile; “I’m glad o’ that. It’ll make you -all the keener. Now, officer, you listen to me. I’m a-goin’ to put you -on to a nice little job. Ah! I dessay you’ll be a sergeant before long, -you will. You’ll be complimented and praised for your clever conduck in -this ’ere affair. Mark my words if you ain’t.” - -“Out with it,” I said, fancying I saw through the man’s meaning. “You’re -going to split on some of your pals, I suppose, and you’ll want a -reward.” - -He shook his head. “A reward,” he said, “wouldn’t be no use to me at -all--no, not if it was a thousand pounds. No, it ain’t nothing to do -with reward. But now, officer, did you ever hear of Light Toed Jim?” - -Light Toed Jim! I should have been a poor detective if I had not. Why, -the man known under that sobriquet was one of the cleverest burglars and -thieves in England, and had enjoyed such a famous career that his name -was a household word. At that moment there was an additional interest -attached to him. He had been convicted of burglary at the Northminster -assizes in 1871, and sentenced to ten years’ penal servitude. After -serving nearly two years of his time he had escaped from Portland, -getting away in such clever fashion that he had never been heard of -since. Where he was no one could say; but lately there had been a strong -suspicion among the police that Light Toed Jim was at his old tricks -again. - -“Light Toed Jim!” I repeated. “I should think so. Why, what do you know -about him?” - -He smiled and nodded his head. “Light Toed Jim,” said he, “is in -Westford at this ’ere hidentical moment. Listen to me, officer. Light -Toed Jim is a-goin’ to crack a crib to-night. Said crib is the mansion -of Miss Singleton, that ’ere rich old lady as lives out on the Mapleton -Road. You know her--awfully rich, with naught but women servants and -animals about the place. There’s some very valyable plate there. That’s -what Light Toed Jim’s after. He’ll get in through the scullery window -about 1 a. m., then he’ll pass through the back and front kitchens and -into the butler’s pantry--only it’s a butleress, ’cos there ain’t no men -at all--and there he’ll set to work on the safe. Some of his late pals -in Portland give him the tip about this ’ere job.” - -“How did you come to hear of it?” I asked. - -“Never mind, guv’nor. You wouldn’t understand. Now, I wants you to be up -there to-night and to nab Light Toed Jim red-handed, so to speak. It’ll -mean promotion for you, and it’ll suit me down to the ground. You wants -to be about and to watch him enter. Then follow him and dog him. And be -armed, officer, for Jim’ll fight like a tiger if you don’t draw his -teeth first.” - -“Now, look here, my man,” said I, “this is all very well, but it’s all -irregular. You must just tell me who you are and how you come to be in -Light Toed Jim’s secrets, and I’ll put it down in black and white.” - -I turned away from him to get my writing materials. I was not half a -minute with my back to him, but when I turned round he was gone. The -door was shut, but I had heard no sound from it either opening or -shutting. Quick as thought I darted to it, tore it wide open, and looked -down the narrow staircase. There was no one there. I ran hastily -downstairs into the passage, and found my landlady, Mrs. Marriner, -standing at the open door with a female friend. “Mrs. Marriner,” I said, -breaking in upon their conversation, “which way did that man go who came -downstairs just now?” - -Mrs. Marriner looked at me strangely. “There ain’t been no man come -downstairs, Mr. Parker,” said she; “leastways, not this good -three-quarters of an hour, which me and Missis Higgins ’ere, as ’ave -come out to take an airing, her having been ironin’ all this blessed -day, has been standin’ ’ere all the time and ain’t never seen a soul.” - -“Nonsense,” I said. “A man came down from my room just now--the man you -sent up twenty minutes since.” - -Mrs. Marriner looked at me with an expression betokening the most -profound astonishment. Mrs. Higgins sighed deeply. - -“Mr. Parker,” said Mrs. Marriner, “sorry am I to say it, sir, but you’re -either intoxicated or else you’re a-sickening for brain fever, sir. -There ain’t no person entered this door, in or out, for nigh onto an -hour, as me and Missis Higgins ’ere will take our Bible oaths on.” - -I went upstairs and looked in the rooms on either side of mine. The man -was not there. I looked under my bed, and of course he was not there. He -must have gone downstairs. But then the women must have seen him. There -was only one door to the house. I gave it up in despair and began to -smoke my pipe. By the time I had drawn the last whiff I decided that if -anyone was “intoxicated,” it was probably Mrs. Marriner and Mrs. -Higgins, and that my strange visitor had departed by the door. I was not -going to believe that he had anything supernatural about him. - -I had no duty that night, and as the hours wore on I found myself stern -in my resolve to go up to Miss Singleton’s house and see what I could -make out of my informant’s story. It was my opinion that my late visitor -was a whilom “pal” of Light Toed Jim, and that having become aware of -the latter’s plot, he had, for some reason of his own, decided to split -on his old chum. Thieves’ disagreement is an honest man’s opportunity, -and I determined to solve the truth of the story told me. Lest it should -come to nothing, I decided not to report the matter to my chief. If I -could really capture Light Toed Jim, my success would be all the more -brilliant by being suddenly sprung upon the authorities. - -I made my plan of action rapidly. I took a revolver with me and went up -to Miss Singleton’s house. Fortunately, I knew the housekeeper there--a -middle-aged, strong-minded woman, not easily frightened, which was a -good thing. To her I communicated such information as I considered -necessary. She consented to conceal me in the room where the safe stood. -There was a cupboard close by the safe from which I could command a full -view of the burglar’s operations and pounce upon him at the right -moment. If only my information was to be relied upon, there was every -chance of my capturing the famous burglar. - -Soon after midnight, when the house was all quiet, I went to the pantry -and got into the cupboard, locking myself in. There were two openings -in the panel, through either of which I was able to command a full view -of the room. My position was somewhat cramped, but the time soon passed -away. My mind was principally occupied in wondering if I was really -about to have a chance of distinguishing myself. Somehow, there was an -air of unreality about the events of the evening which puzzled me. - -Suddenly I heard a sound which put me on the alert at once. It was -nothing more than the creaking of a board or opening of a door would -make in a quiet house; but it sounded intensified to my expectant ears. -I drew myself up against the door of the cupboard and placed my eye to -the opening in the panel. I had oiled the key of the door, and kept my -fingers upon it in readiness to spring upon the burglar at the proper -moment. After what seemed some time I saw the gleam of light through the -keyhole of the door opening into the pantry. Then it opened, and a man -carrying a small lantern came gently into the room. At first I could see -nothing of his face; but when my eyes grew accustomed to the hazy light -I saw that I had been rightly informed, and that the burglar was indeed -no other than the famous Light Toed Jim. - -As I stood there watching him I could not help admiring the cool fashion -in which he went to work. He went over to the window and examined it. He -tried the door of the cupboard in which I stood concealed. Then he -locked the door of the pantry and turned his attention to the safe. He -set his lamp on a chair before the lock and took from his pocket as neat -and pretty a collection of tools as ever I saw. With these he went -quietly and swiftly to work. - -Light Toed Jim was a somewhat slimly built fellow, with little muscular -development about him, while I am a big man with plenty of bone and -sinew. If matters had come to a fight between us I could have done what -I pleased with him; but I knew that Jim would not chance a fight. -Somewhere about him I felt sure there was a revolver, which he would use -on the least provocation. My plan, therefore, was to wait until his back -was bent over the lock of the safe, then to open the cupboard door -noiselessly and fall bodily upon him, pinning him to the ground beneath -me. - -Before long the moment came. He was working steadily away at the lock, -his whole attention concentrated on the job. The slight noise of his -drill was sufficient to drown the faint click of the key in the cupboard -door. I turned it quickly and tumbled right upon him, driving the tool -out of his hands and tumbling him into a heap at the foot of the safe. -He uttered an exclamation of rage and astonishment as he went down, and -immediately began to wriggle under me like an eel. As I kept him down -with one hand I tried to pull out the handcuffs with the other. This -somewhat embarrassed me, and the burglar profited by it to pull out a -sharp knife. He had worked himself round on his back, and before I -realized what he was after he was hacking furiously at me with his keen, -dagger-like blade. Then I realized that we were going to have a fight -for it, and prepared myself. He tried to run the knife into my side. I -warded it off, but the blade caught the fleshy part of my left arm and I -felt a warm stream of blood spurt out. - -That maddened me, and I seized one of the steel drills lying near at -hand, and hit my man such a blow over the temple that he collapsed at -once, and lay as if dead. I put the handcuffs on him instantly, and, to -make matters still more certain, I secured his ankles. Then I rose and -looked at my arm. The knife had made a nasty gash, and the blood was -flowing freely, but it was not serious; and when the housekeeper, who -had just then appeared on the scene, had bandaged it, I went out and -secured the help of the first policeman I met in conveying Light Toed -Jim to the office. - -I felt a proud man when I made my report to the inspector. - -“Light Toed Jim?” said he. “What, James Bland? Nonsense, Parker.” But I -took him to the cells where Jim was being attended to by the doctor. - -“You’re right, Parker,” he said. “That’s the man. Well, this will be a -fine thing for you.” - -After a time, feeling a little exhausted, I went home to try and get -some sleep. The surgeon had attended to my arm, and told me it was but a -superficial wound. It felt sore enough in spite of that. - -I had no sooner reached my lodgings than I saw sitting in my easy-chair -the strange man who had called upon me earlier in the evening. He rose -to his feet when I entered. I stared at him in utter astonishment. - -“Well, guv’nor,” said he, “I see you’ve done it. You’ve got him square -and fair, I reckon?” - -“Yes,” I said. - -“Ah!” he said, with a sigh of complete satisfaction. “Then I’m -satisfied. Yes, I don’t know as how there’s aught more I could say. I -reckon as how Light Toed Jim an’ me is quits.” - -I was determined to find out who this man was this time. “Sit down,” I -said. “There’s a question or two I must ask you. Just let me get my coat -off and I’ll talk to you.” I took my coat off and went over to the bed -to lay it down. “Now then,” I began, and looked around at him. I said no -more, being literally struck dumb. The man was gone! - -I began to feel uncomfortable. I ran hastily downstairs, only to find -the outer door locked and bolted, as I had left it a few minutes -before. I went back, utterly nonplussed. For an hour I pondered the -matter over, but could neither make head nor tail of it. - -When I went down to the office next morning I was informed that the -burglar wanted to see me. I went to his cell, where he was lying in bed -with his head bandaged. I had hit him pretty hard, as it turned out, and -it was probable he would have to lie on the sick list for some days. -“Well, guv’nor,” said he, “you’d the best of me last night. You hit me -rather hard that time.” - -“I was sorry to have to do it, my man,” I answered. “You would have -stabbed me if you could.” - -“Yes,” he said, “I should. But I say, guv’nor, come a bit closer; I want -to ask you a question. How did you know I was on that little job last -night? For, s’elp me, there wasn’t a soul knew a breath about it but -myself. I hadn’t no pals, never talked to anybody about it, never -thought aloud about it, as I knows on. How came you to spot it, -guv’nor?” - -There was no one else in the cell with us, and I thought I might find -out something about my mysterious visitor of the night before. “It was a -pal of yours who gave me the information,” I said. - -“Can’t be, guv’nor. No use telling me that. I ain’t got no -pals--leastways not in this job.” - -“Did you ever know a man like this?” I described my visitor. As I -proceeded, Light Toed Jim’s face assumed an expression of real terror. -Whatever color there was in it faded away. I never saw a man look more -thoroughly frightened. “Yes, yes,” he said, eagerly. “In course I know -who it is. Why, it’s Barksea Bill, as I pal’d with at one time--and what -did he say, guv’nor--that he owed me a grudge? That we was quits at -last? Right you are, ’cos he did owe me a grudge. I treated Bill very -shabby--very shabby, indeed, and he swore solemn he’d have his revenge. -On’y, guv’nor, what you see wasn’t Barksea Bill at all, but his ghost, -’cos Barksea Bill’s been dead and buried this three year.” - -I was naturally very much exercised in my mind over this weird -development of the affair, and I used to think about it long after Light -Toed Jim had once more retired to the seclusion of Portland. While he -was in charge at Westford I tried more than once to worm some more -information out of him about the defunct Barksea Bill, but with no -success. He would say no more than that “Bill was dead and buried this -three year;” and with that I had to be content. Gradually I came to have -a firm belief that I had indeed been visited by Barksea Bill’s ghost, -and I often told the story to brother officers, and sometimes got well -laughed at. That, however, mattered little to me; I felt sure that any -man who had gone through the same experience would have had the same -beliefs. - -Of course I got my promotion and was soon afterward married. Things went -well with me, and I was lifted from one step to another. In my secret -mind I was always sure I owed my first rise to the burglar’s ghost, and -I should have continued to think so but for an incident which occurred -just five years after my capture of Light Toed Jim. - -I had occasion to travel to Sheffield from Westford, and had to change -trains at Leeds. The carriage I stepped into was occupied by a solitary -individual, who turned his face to me as I sat down. Though dressed in -more respectable fashion, I immediately recognized the man who had -visited me so mysteriously at my lodgings. My first feeling was one of -fear, and I daresay my face showed it, for the man laughed. - -“Hallo, guv’nor,” said he; “I see you knew me as soon as you come in. -You owes a deal to me, guv’nor; now, don’t you, eh?” - -“Look here, my man,” I said, “I’ve been taking you for a ghost these -five years past. Now just tell me how you got in and out of my room that -night, will you?” - -He laughed long and loud at that. “A ghost?” said he. “Well, if that -ain’t a good un! Why, easy enough, guv’nor. I was a-lodging for a day or -two in the same house. It’s easy enough, when you know how, to open a -door very quiet and to slip out, too.” - -“But I followed you sharp, and looked for you.” - -“Ay, guv’nor; but you looked down, and I had gone up! You should ha’ -come up to the attics, and there you’d ha’ found me. So you took me for -a ghost? Well, I’m blowed.” - -I told him what Light Toed Jim had said in the cell. - -“Ay,” said he, “I dessay, guv’nor. You see, ’twas this way--it weren’t -Jim’s fault as I wasn’t dead. He tried to murder me, guv’nor, he did, -and left me a-lying for dead. So I ses to myself when I comes round that -I’d pay him out sooner or later. But after that I quit the profession, -Jim’s nasty conduck havin’ made me sick of it. So I went in for honest -work at my old trade, which was draining and pipe repairing. I was on a -job o’ that sort in Westford, near Miss Singleton’s house, when I see -Light Toed Jim. I had a hidea what he was up to, havin’ heard o’ the -plate, and I watches him one or two nights, and gets a notion ’ow he was -going to work the job. Then, o’ course, you being a officer and close at -hand I splits on him--and that’s all.” - -“But you had got the time and details correct?” - -“Why, o’ course, guv’nor. I was an old hand--served many years at -Portland, I have, and I knew just how Jim would work it, after seeing -his perlim’nary observations. But a ghost! Ha, ha, ha! Why, guv’nor, you -must ha’ been a very green young officer in them days!” - -Perhaps I was. At any rate I learned a lesson from the ci-devant Barksea -Bill--namely, that in searching a house it is always advisable to look -up as well as down. - - - - -A PHANTOM TOE. - - -I am not a superstitious man, far from it, but despite all my efforts to -the contrary I could not help thinking, directly I had taken a survey of -my chamber, that I should never quit it without going through a strange -adventure. There was something in its immense size, heaviness and gloom -that seemed to annihilate at one blow all my resolute skepticism as -regards supernatural visitations. It appeared to me totally impossible -to go into that room and disbelieve in ghosts. - -The fact is, I had incautiously partaken at supper of that favorite -Dutch dish, sauerkraut, and I suppose it had disagreed with me and put -strange fancies into my head. Be this as it may I only know that after -parting with my friend for the night I gradually worked myself up into -such a state of fidgetiness that at last I wasn’t sure whether I hadn’t -become a ghost myself. - -“Supposing,” ruminated I, “supposing the landlord himself should be a -practical robber and should have taken the lock and bolt from off this -door for the purpose of entering here in the dead of the night, -abstracting all my property, and perhaps murdering me! I thought the dog -had a very cutthroat air about him.” Now, I had never had any such idea -until that moment, for my host was a fat (all Dutchmen are fat), -stupid-looking fellow, who I don’t believe had sense enough to -understand what a robbery or murder meant, but somehow or other, -whenever we have anything really to annoy us (and it certainly was not -pleasant to go to bed in a strange place without being able to fasten -one’s door), we are sure to aggravate it by myriads of chimeras of our -own brain. - -So, on the present occasion, in the midst of a thousand disagreeable -reveries, some of the most wild absurdity, I jumped very gloomily into -bed, having first put out my candle (for total darkness was far -preferable to its flickering, ghostly light, which transformed rather -than revealed objects), and soon fell asleep, perfectly tired out with -my day’s riding. - -How long I lay asleep I don’t know, but I suddenly awoke from a -disagreeable dream of cutthroats, ghosts and long, winding passages in a -haunted inn. An indescribable feeling, such as I never before -experienced, hung upon me. It seemed as if every nerve in my body had a -hundred spirits tickling it, and this was accompanied by so great a heat -that, inwardly cursing mine host’s sauerkraut and wondering how the -Dutchmen could endure such poison, I was forced to sit up in bed to -cool myself. The whole of the room was profoundly dark, excepting at one -place, where the moonlight, falling through a crevice in the shutters, -threw a straight line of about an inch or so thick upon the -floor--clear, sharp and intensely brilliant against the darkness. I -leave you to conceive my horror when, upon looking at this said line of -light, I saw there a naked human toe--nothing more. - -For the first instant I thought the vision must be some effect of -moonlight, then that I was only half awake and could not see distinctly. -So I rubbed my eyes two or three times and looked again. Still there was -the accursed thing--plain, distinct, immovable--marblelike in its -fixedness and rigidity, but in everything else horribly human. - -I am not an easily frightened man. No one who has traveled so much and -seen so much and been exposed to so many dangers as I, can be, but there -was something so mysterious and unusual in the appearance of this single -toe that for a short time I could not think what to be at, so I did -nothing but stare at it in a state of utter bewilderment. - -At length, however, as the toe did not vanish under my steady gaze, I -thought I might as well change my tactics, and remembering that all -midnight invaders, be they thieves, ghosts or devils, dislike nothing -so much as a good noise I shouted out in a loud voice: - -“Who’s there?” - -The toe immediately disappeared in the darkness. - -Almost simultaneously with my words I leaped out of bed and rushed -toward the place where I had beheld the strange appearance. The next -instant I ran against something and felt an iron grip round my body. -After this I have no distinct recollection of what occurred, excepting -that a fearful struggle ensued between me and my unseen opponent; that -every now and then we were violently hurled to the floor, from which we -always rose again in an instant, locked in a deadly embrace; that we -tugged and strained and pulled and pushed, I in the convulsive and -frantic energy of a fight for life, he (for by this time I had -discovered that the intruder was a human being) actuated by some passion -of which I was ignorant; that we whirled round and round, cheek to cheek -and arm to arm, in fierce contest, until the room appeared to whiz round -with us, and that at least a dozen people (my fellow traveler among -them), roused, I suppose, by our repeated falls, came pouring into the -room with lights and showed me struggling with a man having nothing on -but a shirt, whose long, tangled hair and wild, unsettled eyes told me -he was insane. And then, for the first time, I became aware that I had -received in the conflict several gashes from a knife, which my opponent -still held in his hand. - -To conclude my story in a few words (for I daresay all of you by this -time are getting very tired), it turned out that my midnight visitor was -a madman who was being conveyed to a lunatic asylum at The Hague, and -that he and his keeper had been obliged to stop at Delft on their way. -The poor fellow had contrived during the night to escape from his -keeper, who had carelessly forgotten to lock the door of his chamber, -and with that irresistible desire to shed blood peculiar to many insane -people had possessed himself of a pocketknife belonging to the man who -had charge of him, entered my room, which was most likely the only one -in the house unfastened, and was probably meditating the fatal stroke -when I saw his toe in the moonlight, the rest of his body being hidden -in the shade. - -After this terrible freak of his he was watched with much greater -strictness, but I ought to observe, as some excuse for the keeper’s -negligence, that this was the first act of violence he had ever -attempted. - - - - -MRS. DAVENPORT’S GHOST. - -BY FREDERICK F. SCHRADER. - - -Dear readers, do you agree with Hamlet? Do you believe that there is -more between heaven and earth than we dream of in our philosophy? Does -it seem possible to you that Eliphas Levy conjured up the shade of -Apollonius of Tyana, the prophet of the Magii, in a London hotel, and -that the great sage, William Crookes, drank his tea at breakfast several -days a week, for months in succession, in the society of the -materialized spirit of a young lady, attired in white linen, with a -feather turban on her head? - -Do not laugh! Panic would seize you in the presence even of a turbaned -spirit, and the grotesque spectacle would but intensify your terror. As -for me, I did not laugh last night on reading an account in a New York -newspaper of a criminal trial that will probably terminate in the death -penalty of the accused. - -It is a sad case. I shudder as I transcribe the records of the trial -from the testimony of the hotel waiter, who heard the conversation of -the two confederates through a keyhole, and of forty thoroughly -credible witnesses, who testified to the same facts. What would be my -feelings if I had seen the beautiful victim with the gaping wound in her -breast, into which she dipped her finger to mark the brow of her -murderer? - - -I. - -About three o’clock on the afternoon of February 3, Professor Davenport -and Miss Ida Soutchotte, a very pale and delicate young girl, who had -submitted to the tests of Professor Davenport for a number of years, -were finishing their dinner in their room in the second story of a New -York hotel. Professor Benjamin Davenport was a celebrity, but it was -said that he owed his fame to somewhat questionable means. The leading -spiritualists did not repose the confidence in him that manifestly -marked their regard for William Crookes or Daniel Douglas Home. - -“Greedy and unscrupulous mediums,” the author of Spiritualism in America -thinks, “are to blame for the most bitter attacks to which our cause has -been exposed. When the materializations do not take place as quickly as -circumstances require, they resort to trickery and fraud to extricate -themselves from a dilemma.” - -Professor Benjamin Davenport belonged to these “versatile” mediums. -Aside from this, queer stories were afloat about him. He was secretly -accused of highway robbery in South America, cheating at cards in the -gambling houses of San Francisco, and the overhasty use of firearms -toward persons who had never offended him. It was said almost openly, -that the professor’s wife had died from abuse and grief at his -infidelity. But in spite of these annoying rumors, Mr. Davenport, by -virtue of his skill as a fraud and fakir, continued to exercise a great -deal of influence upon certain plain and simple-minded folks, whom it -was impossible to convince that they had not touched the materialized -spirits of their brothers, mothers, or sisters through the agency of his -wonderful power. His professional success received material accession -from his swarthy, Mephisto-like countenance, his deep, fiery eyes, his -large curved nose, the cynical expression of his mouth, and the lofty, -almost prophetic tone of his words. - -When the waiter had made his last visit--he did not go far--the -following conversation took place in the room: - -“There is to be a seance this evening at the residence of Mrs. Harding,” -began the medium. “Quite a number of influential people will be there, -and two or three millionaires. Conceal under your skirt the blonde -woman’s wig and the white material in which the spirits usually make -their appearance.” - -“Very well,” replied Ida Soutchotte, in a resigned tone. - -The waiter heard her pace the room. After a pause, she asked: - -“Whose spirit are you going to control this evening, Benjamin?” - -The waiter heard a loud, brutal laugh and the chair groaning beneath the -weight of the demonstrative professor. - -“Guess.” - -“How should I know?” she asked. - -“I am going to conjure up the spirit of my dead wife.” - -And another burst of laughter issued from the room, full of sinister -levity. A cry of terror burst from Ida’s lips. A muffled sound indicated -to the eavesdropper at the door that she was dragging herself to the -feet of the professor. - -“Benjamin, Benjamin! don’t do it,” she sobbed. - -“Why not? They say I broke Mrs. Davenport’s heart. The story is damaging -my reputation, but it will be forgotten if her spirit should address me -in terms of endearment from the other shore in the presence of numerous -witnesses. For you will speak to me tenderly, will you not, Ida?” - -“No, no. You shall not do it; you shall not think of it. Listen to me, -for God’s sake. During the four years that I have been with you I have -obeyed you faithfully and suffered patiently. I have lied and deceived, -like you; I learned to imitate the sleep and symptoms of clairvoyants. -Tell me, did I ever refuse to serve you, or utter a word of complaint, -even when my shoulders bent with the weight of my burden, when you -pierced the flesh of my arms with knitting needles? Worse than all this, -I imitated distant voices behind curtains, and made mothers and wives -believe that their sons and husbands had come from a better world to -communicate with them. How often have I performed the most dangerous -feats in parlors with the lamps turned low? Clothed in a shroud or white -muslin I essayed to represent supernatural forms, whom tear-dimmed eyes -recognized as those of departed dear ones. You do not know what I -suffered at this unhallowed work. You scoff at the mysteries of -eternity. I suffer the torments of an impending retribution. My God! if -some time the dead whom I counterfeit should rise up before me with -uplifted arms and dreadful imprecations! This constant terror has -injured my heart--it will kill me. I am consumed by fever. Look how -emaciated, how worn-out and downcast I am. But I am under your control. -Do as you like with me; I am in your power, and I want it to be so. Have -I ever complained? But do not force me to do this thing, Benjamin. Have -pity on me for what I have done for you in the past, for what I am -suffering. Do not attempt this mummery; do not compel me to play the -role of your dead wife, who was so tender and beautiful. Oh, what put -that thought into your mind? Spare me, Benjamin, I implore you!” - -The professor did not laugh again. Amid the confusion of upturned -articles of furniture the eavesdropper distinguished the sound of a -skull striking the floor. He concluded that Professor Davenport had -knocked Miss Ida down with a blow of his fist, or had kicked her as she -approached him. But the waiter did not enter the room, as no one rang -for him. - - -II. - -That evening forty persons were assembled in Mrs. Joanne Harding’s -parlor, staring at the curtain where a spirit form was in process of -materializing. One dark lantern in a corner of the room contributed the -light that emphasized the darkness rather than relieved it. The room was -pervaded by profound silence, save the quickened, suppressed breathing -of the spectators. The fire in the grate cast mysterious rays of light, -resembling fugitive spirits, upon the objects around, almost -indistinguishable in the semi-gloom. - -Professor Davenport was at his best this evening. The spirit world -obeyed him without hesitation, like their lawful master. He was the -mighty prince of souls. Hands that had no arms were seen picking flowers -from the vases; the touch of an invisible spirit conjured sweet -melodies from the keys of the piano; the furniture responded by -intelligent rappings to the most unanticipated questions. The professor -himself elevated his form in symbolical distortions from the floor to an -altitude of three feet, indicated by Mrs. Harding, and remained -suspended in the air for a quarter of an hour, holding live coals in his -hands. - - -III. - -But the most interesting, as well as the most conclusive, test was to be -the materialization of the spirit of Mrs. Arabella Davenport, which the -professor had promised at the beginning of the seance. - -“The hour has come,” exclaimed the medium. - -And while the hearts of all throbbed with anxious suspense, and their -eyes distended with painful expectancy of the promised materialization, -Benjamin Davenport stood before the curtain. In the twilight the tall -man with the disheveled hair and demon look, was really terrible and -handsome. - -“Appear, Arabella!” he exclaimed, in a commanding voice, with gestures -of the Nazarene at the sepulcher of Lazarus. - -All are waiting---- - -Suddenly a cry burst from behind the curtain--a piercing, shuddering, -horrible shriek, the shriek of an expiring soul. - -The spectators trembled. Mrs. Harding almost fainted. The medium -himself appeared surprised. - -But Benjamin recovered his composure on seeing the curtain move and -admit the spirit. - -The apparition was that of a young woman with long blonde tresses; she -was beautiful and pale, clad in some light, whitish material. Her breast -was bare, and on the left side appeared a bleeding wound, in which -trembled a knife. - -The spectators arose and retreated, pushing their chairs to the wall. -Those who chanced to look at the medium noticed that a deathly pallor -had overspread his face, and that he was cowering and trembling. - -But the young woman, Mrs. Arabella, the real one, whom he so well -remembered, she had come in response to his summons, and advanced in a -direct line toward Benjamin, who in terror covered his eyes to shut out -the ghastly sight, and with a cry fled behind the furniture. But she -dipped the finger of her thin hand into the blood from her wound and -traced it across the brow of the unconscious medium, the while -repeating, in a slow, monotonous tone that sounded like the echo of a -wail, again and again: - -“You are my murderer! You are my murderer!” - -And while he was rolling and tossing in deadly terror on the floor they -turned up the lights. - -The spirit had vanished. But in the communicating room, behind the -curtain, they found the body of poor Miss Ida Soutchotte with horribly -distorted features. A physician who was present pronounced it heart -stroke. - -And that is the reason that Prof. Benjamin Davenport appeared alone in a -New York courtroom to answer to the charge of having murdered his wife -four years ago in San Francisco. - - - - -THE PHANTOM WOMAN. - - -He took an all-possessing, burning fancy to her from the first. She was -neither young nor pretty, so far as he could see--but she was wrapped -round with mystery. That was the key of it all; she was noticeable in -spite of herself. Her face at the window, sunset after sunset; her eyes, -gazing out mournfully through the dusty panes, hypnotized the lawyer. He -saw her through the twilight night after night, and he grew at length to -wait through the days in a feverish waiting for dusk, and that one look -at an unknown woman. - -She was always at the same window on the ground floor, sitting doing -nothing. She looked beyond, so the infatuated solicitor fancied, at him. -Once he even thought that he detected the ghost of a friendly smile on -her lips. Their eyes always met with a mute desire to make acquaintance. -This romance went on for a couple of months. - -Gilbert Dent assured himself that nothing in this life can possibly -remain stationary, and he cudgeled his brain for a respectable manner of -introducing himself to his idol. - -He had hardly arrived at this point when he received a shock. There came -an evening when she was not at the window. - -Next morning he walked down Wood Lane on his way to the office. He -always went by train, but he felt a strong disinclination to go through -another day without a sight of her. His heart began to beat like a -schoolgirl’s as he drew near the house. If she should be at the window. -He was almost disposed to take his courage in his hand and call on her, -and--yes, even--tell her in a quick burst that she had mysteriously -become all the world to him. He could see nothing ridiculous in this -course; the possibility of her being married, or having family ties of -any sort, had simply never occurred to him. - -However, she was not at the window; what was more, there was a sinister -silence, a sort of breathlessness about the whole place. - -It was a very hot morning in late August. He looked a long time, but no -face came, and no movement stirred the house. - -He went his way, walking like a man who has been heavily knocked on the -brow and sees stars still. That afternoon he left the office early, and -in less than an hour stood at the gate again. The window was blank. He -pushed the gate back--it hung on one hinge--and walked up the drive to -the door. There were five steps--five steps leading up to it. At the -foot he wheeled aside sharply to the window; he had a sick dread of -looking through the small panes--why he could not have told. - -When at last he found courage to look he saw that there was a small -round table set just under the window--a work-table to all appearance; -one of those things with lots of little compartments all round and a lid -in the middle which shut over a well-like cavity for holding pieces of -needlework. He remembered that his mother had one--thirty years before. - -Round the edge of the table was gripped a small, delicate hand. Gilbert -Dent’s eyes ran from this bloodless hand and slim wrist to a shoulder -under a coarse stuff bodice--to a rather wasted throat, which was bare -and flung back. - -So this was the end--before the beginning. He saw her. She was dead; -twisted on the floor with a ghastly face turned up toward the ceiling, -and stiff fingers caught in desperation round the work table. - -He stumbled away along the path and into the lane. - -For a long time he could not realize the horror of this thing. The -influence of the decayed house hung over him--nothing seemed real. It -was quite dark when he moved away from the gate, and went in the -direction of the nearest police station. That she was dead--this woman -whose very name he did not know although she influenced him so -powerfully--he was certain; one look at the face would have told anyone -that. That she was murdered he more than suspected. He had seen no blood -about; there had been no mark on the long, bare throat, and yet the word -rushed in his ears, “Murder.” - -Later on he went back with a police officer. - -They broke into the house and entered the room. It was in utter -darkness, of course, by now. Dent, his fingers trembling, struck a -match. It flared round the walls and lighted them for a moment before he -let it fall on the dusty floor. - -The policeman began to light his lantern and turned it stolidly on the -window. He had no reason for delay; he was eager to get to the bottom of -the business. His professional zeal was whetted; this promised to be a -mystery with a spice in it. - -He turned the light full on the window; he gave a strange, choked cry, -half of rage, half of apprehension. Then he went up to Gilbert Dent, who -stood in the middle of the room with his hands before his eyes, and took -his shoulder and shook it none too gently. - -“There ain’t nobody,” he said. - -Dent looked wildly at the window--the recess was empty except for the -work-table. The woman was gone. - -They searched the house; they minutely inspected the garden. Everything -was normal; everything told the same mournful tale--of desertion, of -death, of long empty years. But they found no woman, nor trace of one. - -“This house,” said the policeman, looking suspiciously into the lawyer’s -face, “has been empty for longer than I can remember. Nobody’ll live in -it. They do say something about foul play a good many years ago. I don’t -know about that. All I do know is that the landlord can’t get it off his -hands.” - -It was doubtful if Gilbert Dent heard one word of what the man was -saying. He was too stunned to do anything but creep home--when he was -allowed to go--and let himself stealthily into his own house with a -latch key; he was afraid even of himself. He did not go to bed that -night. - -As for the mystery of the woman, the matter was allowed to drop; it -ended--officially. There was a shrug and a grin at the police station. -The impression there was that the lawyer had been drinking--that the -dead woman in the empty room was a gruesome freak of his tipsy brain. - - * * * * * - -A week or so later Dent called on his brother Ned--the one near relation -he had. Ned was a doctor; perhaps he was a shade more matter-of-fact -than Gilbert; at all events, when the latter told his story of the house -and the woman, he attributed the affair solely to liver. - -“You are overworked”--the elder brother looked at the younger’s yellow -face. “An experience of this nature is by no means uncommon. Haven’t you -heard of people having their pet ‘spooks’?” - -“But this was a real woman,” he declared. “I--I, well, I was in love -with her. I had made up my mind to marry her--if I could.” - -Ned gave him a keen, swift glance. - -“We’ll go to Brighton to-morrow,” he said, with quiet decision. “As for -your work, everything must be put aside. You’ve run completely down. You -ought to have been taken in hand before.” - -They went to Brighton, and it really seemed as if Ned was right, and -that the woman at the window had been merely a nervous creation. It -seemed so, that is, for nearly three weeks, and then the climax came. - -It was in the twilight--she had always been part of it--that Gilbert -Dent saw her again; the woman that he had found lying dead. - -They were walking, the two brothers, along the cliffs. - -The wind was blowing in their faces, the sea was booming beneath the -cliff. Ned had just said it was about time they turned back to the hotel -and had some dinner, when Gilbert with a cry leapt forward to the very -edge of the flat grass path on which they were strolling. The movement -was so sudden that his brother barely caught him in time. They -struggled and swayed on the very edge of the cliff for a second; -Gilbert, possessed by some sudden frenzy, seemed resolved to go over, -but the other at last dragged him backward, and they rolled together on -the close, thick turf. - -At this point Gilbert opened his eyes and tried to get on his feet. - -“Better?” asked his brother, cheerfully, holding out a helping hand. -“Strange! The sea has that effect on some people. Didn’t think that you -were one of them.” - -“What effect?” - -“Vertigo, my dear fellow.” - -“Ned,” said the other solemnly, “I saw her. It is not worth your while -to try to account for anything. I have been inclined to think that you -were right--that she, the woman at the window, was a fancy, that I had -fallen in love with a creation of my own brain; but I saw her again -to-night. You must have seen her yourself--she was within a couple of -feet of you. Why did you not try and save her? It was nothing short of -murder to let her go over like that. I did my best.” - -“You certainly did--to kill us both,” said Ned, grimly. - -Gilbert gave him a wild look. - -After luncheon Ned persuaded him to rest--watched him fall asleep, and -then went out. - -In the porch of the hotel he was met by a waiter on his return who told -him that Gilbert had left about a quarter of an hour after he had -himself gone out. - -Directly he heard this he feared the worst; having, as is usual in such -cases, a very hazy idea of what the worst might be. Of course he must -follow without a moment’s delay; but a reference to the time-table told -him that there was not another train for an hour, and that was slow. - -It was already getting dusk when he arrived there. He felt certain that -Gilbert would go there. He got to the end of the lane and walked up it -slowly, examining every house. There would be no difficulty in -recognizing the one he wanted; Gilbert had described it in detail more -than once. - -He stood outside the loosely hanging gate at last, and stared through -the darkness at the shabby stucco front and rank garden. - -He went down a flight of steps to the back door, and finding it -unfastened, stepped into a stone passage. It was one of the problems of -the place that he should have avoided the main entrance door with a -half-admitted dread, and that, only half admitting still, he was afraid -to mount the long flight of stone stairs leading from the servants’ -quarters. However, he pulled himself together and went up to the room. - -It was quite dark inside. He heard something scuttle across the floor; -he felt the grit and dust of years under his feet. He struck a -match--just as Gilbert had done--and looked first at the recess in which -the window was built. The match flared round the room for a moment and -gave him a flash picture of his surroundings. He saw the stripes of -gaudy paper moving almost imperceptibly, like tentacles of some sea -monster, from the wall; he saw a creature--it looked like a rat--scurry -across the floor from the window to the great mantelpiece of hard white -marble. - -If he had seen nothing more than this. - -He saw in detail all that the first match had flashed at him. He saw his -brother lying on the floor; a ghastly coincidence, his hand was caught -round the edge of the work-table as hers had been. The other hand was -clenched across his breast; there was a look of great agony on his face. - -A dead face, of course. This was the end of the affair. He was lying -dead by the window where the woman had sat every night at dusk and -smiled at him. - -The second match went out; the brother of the dead man struck a third. -He looked again and closely. Then he staggered to his feet and gave a -cry. It rang through the empty rooms and echoed without wearying down -the long, stone passages in the basement. - -Gilbert’s head was thrown back; his chin peaked to the ceiling. On his -throat were livid marks. The doctor saw them distinctly; he saw the grip -of small fingers; the distinct impression of a woman’s little hand. - - * * * * * - -The curious thing about the whole story--the most curious thing, -perhaps--is that no other eye ever saw those murderous marks. So there -was no scandal, no chase after the murderer, no undiscovered crime. They -faded; when the doctor saw his brother again in the full light and in -the presence of others his throat was clear. And the post mortem proved -that death was due to natural causes. - -So the matter stands, and will. - -But where the house and its overgrown garden stood runs a new road with -neat red and white villas. - -Whatever secret it knew--if any--it kept discreetly. - -Ned Dent is morbid enough to go down the smart new road in the twilight -sometimes and wonder. - - - - -THE PHANTOM HAG. - - -The other evening in an old castle the conversation turned upon -apparitions, each one of the party telling a story. As the accounts grew -more horrible the young ladies drew closer together. - -“Have you ever had an adventure with a ghost?” said they to me. “Do you -not know a story to make us shiver? Come, tell us something.” - -“I am quite willing to do so,” I replied. “I will tell you of an -incident that happened to myself.” - -Toward the close of the autumn of 1858 I visited one of my friends, -sub-prefect of a little city in the center of France. Albert was an old -companion of my youth, and I had been present at his wedding. His -charming wife was full of goodness and grace. My friend wished to show -me his happy home, and to introduce me to his two pretty little -daughters. I was feted and taken great care of. Three days after my -arrival I knew the entire city, curiosities, old castles, ruins, etc. -Every day about four o’clock Albert would order the phaeton, and we -would take a long ride, returning home in the evening. One evening my -friend said to me: - -“To-morrow we will go further than usual. I want to take you to the -Black Rocks. They are curious old Druidical stones, on a wild and -desolate plain. They will interest you. My wife has not seen them yet, -so we will take her.” - -The following day we drove out at the usual hour. Albert’s wife sat by -his side. I occupied the back seat alone. The weather was gray and -somber that afternoon, and the journey was not very pleasant. When we -arrived at the Black Rocks the sun was setting. We got out of the -phaeton, and Albert took care of the horses. - -We walked some little distance through the fields before reaching the -giant remains of the old Druid religion. Albert’s wife wished to climb -to the summit of the altar, and I assisted her. I can still see her -graceful figure as she stood draped in a red shawl, her veil floating -around her. - -“How beautiful it is! But does it not make you feel a little -melancholy?” said she, extending her hand toward the dark horizon, which -was lighted a little by the last rays of the sun. - -The afternoon wind blew violently, and sighed through the stunted trees -that grew around the stone cromlechs; not a dwelling nor a human being -was in sight. We hastened to get down, and silently retraced our steps -to the carriage. - -“We must hurry,” said Albert; “the sky is threatening, and we shall have -scarcely time to reach home before night.” - -We carefully wrapped the robes around his wife. She tied the veil around -her face, and the horses started into a rapid trot. It was growing dark; -the scenery around us was bare and desolate; clumps of fir trees here -and there and furze bushes formed the only vegetation. We began to feel -the cold, for the wind blew with fury; the only sound we heard was the -steady trot of the horses and the sharp clear tinkle of their bells. - -Suddenly I felt the heavy grasp of a hand upon my shoulder. I turned my -head quickly. A horrible apparition presented itself before my eyes. In -the empty place at my side sat a hideous woman. I tried to cry out; the -phantom placed her fingers upon her lips to impose silence upon me. I -could not utter a sound. The woman was clothed in white linen; her head -was cowled; her face was overspread with a corpse-like pallor, and in -place of eyes were ghastly black cavities. - -I sat motionless, overcome by terror. - -The ghost suddenly stood up and leaned over the young wife. She -encircled her with her arms, and lowered her hideous head as if to kiss -her forehead. - -“What a wind!” cried Madame Albert, turning precipitately toward me. “My -veil is torn.” - -As she turned I felt the same infernal pressure on my shoulder, and the -place occupied by the phantom was empty. I looked out to the right and -left--the road was deserted, not an object in sight. - -“What a dreadful gale!” said Madame Albert. “Did you feel it? I cannot -explain the terror that seized me; my veil was torn by the wind as if by -an invisible hand; I am trembling still.” - -“Never mind,” said Albert, smiling; “wrap yourself up, my dear; we will -soon be warming ourselves by a good fire at home. I am starving.” - -A cold perspiration covered my forehead; a shiver ran through me; my -tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, and I could not articulate a -sound; a sharp pain in my shoulder was the only sensible evidence that I -was not the victim of an hallucination. Putting my hand upon my aching -shoulder, I felt a rent in the cloak that was wrapped around me. I -looked at it; five perfectly distinct holes--visible traces of the grip -of the horrible phantom. I thought for a moment that I should die or -that my reason should leave me; it was, I think, the most dreadful -moment of my life. - -Finally I became more calm; this nameless agony had lasted for some -minutes; I do not think it is possible for a human being to suffer more -than I did during that time. As soon as I had recovered my senses, I -thought at first I would tell my friends all that had passed, but -hesitated, and finally did not, fearing that my story would frighten -Madame Albert, and feeling sure my friend would not believe me. The -lights of the little city revived me, and gradually the oppression of -terror that overwhelmed me became lighter. - -So soon as we reached home, Madame Albert untied her veil; it was -literally in shreds. I hoped to find my clothes whole and prove to -myself that it was all imagination. But no, the cloth was torn in five -places, just where the fingers had seized my shoulder. There was no -mark, however, upon my flesh, only a dull pain. - -I returned to Paris the next day, where I endeavored to forget the -strange adventure; or at least when I thought of it, I would force -myself to think it an hallucination. - -The day after my return I received a letter from my friend Albert. It -was edged with black. I opened it with a vague fear. - -His wife had died the day of my return. - - - - -FROM THE TOMB. - -TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF DE MAUPASSANT BY E. C. WAGGENER. - - -The guests filed slowly into the hotel’s great dining-hall and took -their places, the waiters began to serve them leisurely, to give the -tardy ones time to arrive and to save themselves the bother of bringing -back the courses; and the old bathers, the yearly habitues, with whom -the season was far advanced, kept a close watch on the door each time it -opened, hoping for the coming of new faces. - -New faces! the single distraction of all pleasure resorts. We go to -dinner chiefly to canvass the daily arrivals, to wonder who they are, -what they do and what they think. A restless desire seems to have taken -possession of us, a longing for pleasant adventures, for friendly -acquaintances, perhaps, for possible lovers. In this elbow-to-elbow life -our unknown neighbors become of paramount importance. Curiosity is -piqued, sympathy on the alert and the social instinct doubly active. - -We have hatreds for a week, friendships for a month, and view all men -with the special eyes of watering-place intimacy. Sometimes during an -hour’s chat after dinner, under the trees of the park, where ripples a -healing spring, we discover men of superior intellect and surprising -merit, and a month later have wholly forgotten these new friends, so -charming at first sight. - -There, too, more specially than elsewhere, serious and lasting ties are -formed. We see each other every day, we learn to know each other very -soon, and in the affection that springs up so rapidly between us there -is mingled much of the sweet abandon of old and tried intimates. And -later on, how tender are the memories cherished of the first hours of -this friendship, of the first communion in which the soul came to light, -of the first glances that questioned and responded to the secret -thoughts and interrogatories the lips have not dared yet to utter, of -the first cordial confidence and delicious sensation of opening one’s -heart to someone who has seemed to lay bare to you his own! The very -dullness of the hours, as it were, the monotony of days all alike, but -renders more complete the rapid budding and blooming of friendship’s -flower. - -That evening, then, as on every evening, we awaited the appearance of -unfamiliar faces. - -There came only two, but very peculiar ones, those of a man and a -woman--father and daughter. They seemed to have stepped from the pages -of some weird legend; and yet there was an attraction about them, albeit -an unpleasant one, that made me set them down at once as the victims of -some fatality. - -The father was tall, spare, a little bent, with hair blanched white; too -white for his still young countenance, and in his manner and about his -person the sedate austerity of carriage that bespeaks the Puritan. The -daughter was, possibly, some twenty-four or twenty-five years of age. -She was very slight, emaciated, her exceedingly pale countenance bearing -a languid, spiritless expression; one of those people whom we sometimes -encounter, apparently too weak for the cares and tasks of life, too -feeble to move or do the things that we must do every day. Nevertheless -the girl was pretty, with the ethereal beauty of an apparition. It was -she, undoubtedly, who came for the benefit of the waters. - -They chanced to be placed at table immediately opposite to me; and I was -not long in noticing that the father, too, had a strange affection, -something wrong about the nerves it seemed. Whenever he was going to -reach for anything, his hand, with a jerky twitch, described a sort of -fluttering zig-zag, before he was able to grasp what he was after. Soon, -the motion disturbed me so much, I kept my head turned in order not to -see it. But not before I had also observed that the young girl kept her -glove on her left hand while she ate. - -Dinner ended, I went out as usual for a turn in the grounds belonging to -the establishment. A sort of park, I might say, stretching clear to the -little station of Auvergne, Chatel-Guyon, nestling in a gorge at the -foot of the high mountain, from which flowed the sparkling, bubbling -springs, hot from the furnace of an ancient volcano. Beyond us there, -the domes, small extinct craters--of which Chatel-Guyon is the starting -point--raised their serrated heads above the long chain; while beyond -the domes came two distinct regions, one of them, needle-like peaks, the -other of bold, precipitous mountains. - -It was very warm that evening, and I contented myself with pacing to and -fro under the rustling trees, gazing at the mountains and listening to -the strains of the band, pouring from the Casino, situated on a knoll -that overlooked the grounds. - -Presently, I perceived the father and daughter coming toward me with -slow steps. I bowed to them in that pleasant Continental fashion with -which one always salutes his hotel companions. The gentleman halted at -once. - -“Pardon me, sir,” said he, “but may I ask if you can direct us to a -short walk, easy and pretty, if possible?” - -“Certainly,” I answered, and offered to lead them myself to the valley -through which the swift river flows--a deep, narrow cleft between two -great declivities, rocky and wooded. - -They accepted, and as we walked, we naturally discussed the virtue of -the mineral waters. They had, as I had surmised, come there on his -daughter’s account. - -“She has a strange malady,” said he, “the seat of which her physicians -cannot determine. She suffers from the most inexplicable nervous -symptoms. Sometimes they declare her ill of a heart disease; sometimes -of a liver complaint; again of a spinal trouble. At present they -attribute it to the stomach--that great motor and regulator of the -body--this Protean disease of a thousand forms, a thousand modes of -attack. It is why we are here. I, myself, think it is her nerves. In any -case it is sad.” - -This reminded me of his own jerking hand. - -“It may be hereditary,” said I, “your own nerves are a little disturbed, -are they not?” - -“Mine?” he answered, tranquilly. “Not at all, I have always possessed -the calmest nerves.” Then, suddenly, as if bethinking himself: - -“For this,” touching his hand, “is not nerves, but the result of a -shock, a terrible shock that I suffered once. Fancy it, sir, this child -of mine has been buried alive!” - -I could find nothing to say, I was dumb with surprise. - -“Yes,” he continued, “buried alive; but hear the story, it is not long. -For some time past Juliette had seemed affected with a disordered action -of the heart. We were finally certain that the trouble was organic and -feared the worst. One day it came, she was brought in lifeless--dead. -She had fallen dead while walking in the garden. Physicians came in -haste, but nothing could be done. She was gone. For two days and nights -I watched beside her myself, and with my own hands placed her in her -coffin, which I followed to the cemetery and saw placed in the family -vault. This was in the country, in the province of Lorraine. - -“It had been my wish, too, that she should be buried in her jewels, -bracelets, necklace and rings, all presents that I had given her, and in -her first ball dress. You can imagine, sir, the state of my heart in -returning home. She was all that I had left, my wife had been dead for -many years. I returned, in truth, half mad, shut myself alone in my room -and fell into my chair dazed, unable to move, merely a miserable, -breathing wreck. - -“Soon my old valet, Prosper, who had helped me place Juliette in her -coffin and lay her away for her last sleep, came in noiselessly to see -if he could not induce me to eat. I shook my head, answering nothing. He -persisted: - -“‘Monsieur is wrong; this will make him ill. Will monsieur allow me, -then, to put him to bed?’ - -“‘No, no,’ I answered. ‘Let me alone.’ - -“He yielded and withdrew. - -“How many hours passed I do not know. What a night! What a night! It was -very cold; my fire of logs had long since burned out in the great -fireplace; and the wind, a wintry blast, charged with an icy frost, -howled and screamed about the house and strained at my windows with a -curiously sinister sound. - -“Long hours, I say, rolled by. I sat still where I had fallen, -prostrated, overwhelmed; my eyes wide open, but my body strengthless, -dead; my soul drowned in despair. Suddenly the great bell gave a loud -peal. - -“I gave such a leap that my chair cracked under me. The slow, solemn -sound rang through the empty house. I looked at the clock. - -“It was two in the morning. Who could be coming at such an hour? - -“Twice again the bell pulled sharply. The servants would never answer, -perhaps never hear it. I took up a candle and made my way to the door. I -was about to demand: - -“‘Who is there?’ but, ashamed of the weakness, nerved myself and drew -back the bolts. My heart throbbed, my pulse beat, I threw back the panel -brusquely and there, in the darkness, saw a shape like a phantom, -dressed in white. - -“I recoiled, speechless with anguish, stammering: - -“‘Who--who are you?’ - -“A voice answered: - -“‘It is I, father.’ - -“It was my child, Juliette. - -“Truly, I thought myself mad. I shuddered, shrinking backward before the -specter as it advanced, gesticulating with my hand to ward off the -apparition. It is that gesture which has never left me. - -“Again the phantom spoke: - -“‘Father, father! See, I am not dead. Someone came to rob me of my -jewels--they cut off my finger--the--the flowing blood revived me.’ - -“And I saw then that she was covered with blood. I fell to my knees -panting, sobbing, laughing, all in one. As soon as I regained my senses, -but still so bewildered I scarcely comprehended the happiness that had -come to me, I took her in my arms, carried her to her room, and rang -frantically for Prosper to rekindle the fire, bring a warm drink for -her, and go for the doctor. - -“He came running, entered, gazed a moment at my daughter in the -chair--gave a gasp of fright and horror and fell back--dead. - -“It was he who had opened the vault, who had wounded and robbed my -child, and then abandoned her; for he could not efface all trace of his -deed; and he had not even taken the trouble to return the coffin to its -niche; sure, besides, of not being suspected by me, who trusted him so -fully. We are truly very unfortunate people, monsieur.” - -He was silent. - -Meanwhile the night had come on, enveloping in the gloom the still and -solitary little valley; a sort of mysterious dread seemed to fall upon -me in presence of these strange beings--this corpse come to life, and -this father with his painful gestures. - -“Let us return,” said I, “the night has grown chill.” - -And still in silence, we retraced our steps back to the hotel, and I -shortly afterward returned to the city. I lost all further knowledge of -the two peculiar visitors to my favorite summer resort. - - - - -SANDY’S GHOST. - - -“‘Commerdations fer the night, stranger? Waal, yes; I reckon we can fix -a place fer you. Hev a cheer an’ set you down.” - -“Thank you. Don’t you find this rather a lonely place--no neighbors, no -nothing, that I can see? How came you to settle here, so far removed -from other habitations?” - -“Waal, perhaps it’s best not ter ask too many questions ter once.” - -“Beg your pardon. No offense was intended, I assure you. Simply idle -curiosity.” - -“Don’t say ’nuther word, stranger, but come in an’ we’ll hev a snack fer -supper. Polly, bring on the victu’ls. Yer jes’ in time.” - -Polly at once obeyed. She was a typical Western girl--tall, lithe, -graceful and limpid-eyed. She was clear-skinned and high-spirited, too, -and in this case ignorant through no fault of her own. John Barr’s eyes -scanned her intently, and a flush came to her cheeks. For the first time -in her life she was unpleasantly conscious of her bare feet. It may have -been this that made her stumble and spill some of the contents of an -earthen bowl over the guest’s knees as she placed it on the table. - -Her eyes flashed and a tear of anger twinkled on the lashes. She -stopped, half meaning to apologize, but an oath from her father caused -her to set the bowl down heavily and to hurry from the cabin. A moment -later Barr saw a flutter of pink calico from behind a pile of rocks. Old -Kit Robinson saw it, too. - -“Don’t wonder at yer sayin’ ’tain’t right. She’s a sma’t gal, and a good -looker, too, as should hev been sent away frum here ter school ter be -eddicated. But she won’t leave her no ’count dad. I orter be shot fer -cussin’ her. But I ain’t what I use ter be. Settin’ here an’ keepin’ -guard makes me narvous.” - -Barr’s eyes asked the question his lips refused to speak. Supper eaten, -the men went outside and sat with their chairs tilted back against the -cabin. Something in the younger man’s frank face had softened old Kit -into a reminiscent mood and made him strangely inclined to gratify an -idle curiosity. - -The soft evening winds sighed through the branches of the tall spruce -pines, and the declining rays of the setting sun caused the shadow of -the rude home to stretch out longer across the greensward. From its -shelter where he sat John Barr looked out on the grand ranges of the -Rockies and wondered where in their vastness he would find the man he -sought--the finding of whom had brought him out into this wild and -almost forsaken mining camp. - -“Stranger, I’ve took a likin’ ter you. Ye’ve a sumthin’ about you thet -reminds me of sum one I know, an’ you look like an honest chap. Say, do -you b’lieve in ghosts?” - -He put the question very suddenly, and a look of disappointment crossed -his face when Barr told him that he did not believe in spooks. - -“Waal, I’ve seen ’em!” - -A thought connecting the pink calico with something in the past came to -Barr’s mind. - -“Can’t you tell me about it?” he asked. - -“I’d like ter if you’ll sw’ar, on yer derringer, never ter blab. Will -you sw’ar?” - -The solitary guest started to smile, but the smile faded at the thought -of unshed tears in Polly’s eyes. It might make it easier for her if he -humored the old man. - -“I’ll swear,” he said. And he did. - -“Do you see yan old spruce at the turn of the trail an’ the cliff jes’ -above? Waal, thet’s the spot I’m watchin’ an’ guardin’ till the owner -cums ter claim it. I’m quick ter burn powder an’ a pretty sure shot. I -know a man when I sees him, an’ I ain’t easy fooled. Waal, ter begin -with, I had a pardner once, an’ he wuz a man, sure ’nough. He wuz frum -the State of New York. I never axed him as ter how so fine a gent cum -ter be diggin’ an’ shov’lin’ in the Rockies, though ter myself I said -thar wuz sum good reason. He had light hair, an’ we called him Sandy, -fer short, an’ he wuz jes’ erbout as gritty as sand. We wuz as unlike as -any two fellers you ever saw. He wuz quietlike an’ steady, an’ I wuz -sorter wild an’ reckless an’ liked mounting dew mos’ too well. Waal, -when we had a little dust scraped together, we would divvy, an’ I tuk my -share way down ter the station on the other side of the cliffs an’ sent -it off ter the bank in Helena. But I allers left sum hid whar the gal -would find it. Old Sandy hed a bank of his own thet no one knew erbout, -’cepting hisself, an’ ev’ry time we divided he’d carry part of it ter -his hidin’ place, an’ then give the rest ter me ter send ter his boy, -thet he said wuz bein’ eddicated in sum college way up in Boston. He -seemed ter think a heap of thet boy. Arter awhile my old woman give out, -an’ soon we laid her away on the hillside. It wuz hard, stranger.” - -Old Kit’s voice failed him for a moment, but he quickly regained his -composure and continued: - -“But when old Sandy, my good old pard, give up I didn’t keer fer -nothin’. We buried him in style. All the boys frum round the diggin’s -wuz thar, an’ many an eye wuz wet. We didn’t hev nary a preacher, but -the gal she prayed at the grave. Fer the life of me I don’t know where -she larnt it. Reckon the old woman must hev told her. Next mornin’ the -gal showed me a letter thet Sandy give her jes’ afore he died. It wuz -ter his boy, an’ she wuz ter give it ter him if he ever cum out this -way, an’ she’s got it yet. - -“Thet same evenin’ after supper, feelin’ kinder glumish an’ like thar -wuz sumthin’ in my throat I couldn’t swaller, I tuk a stroll up the -gulch. I went on out ter the top of the edge of the big rock an’ got ter -studyin’ whar I’d find another pard like Sandy. All ter once I felt a -hand touch my shoulder kinder light once or twice. I jumped up, half -expectin’ it wuz Sandy, but it wuz only the gal. Waal, I wuz all tuk -back at fust, an’ then I got mad. - -“‘What air you doin’ up here?’ I axed, kinder rough. She hed tears in -her eyes as she looked at me, an’ said: - -“‘Pap, don’t git mad. I wuz lonesum. I seed you cumin’ up this way, an’ -I follered you, ’cause I wanted ter tell you thet Sandy said ter give -his boy his pile when he cums.’ - -“‘Waal,’ says I, ‘you might hev waited till I cum back ter the house.’ -An’ then I sent her back. - -“Arter she wuz gone I sot ter studyin’ whar in the world Sandy’s pile -wuz. I tried ter think whar could he hev hid it. But it warn’t no use. -All ter once I noticed it wuz plum dark, an’ as these mountings ain’t a -he’lthy place fer a man ter roam in arter nightfall, especially if he -ain’t got his shootin’ irons on, I cut a pretty swift gait fer the -shack. - -“Jes’ as I cum round the bend thar at the pine I happened ter look up -terward the clift, an’ thar sot Sandy. Yes, sir. It wuz him sure as yer -born. My feet felt heavy as lead, an’ I couldn’t move frum the spot. I -tried ter holler, but it warn’t no go. Finally I gave a sudden jerk an’ -made a step terward him, an’ as I did so he disappeared. Then I made -tracks fer home. But I kept mum, ’cause I knowed the boys would say thet -mounting dew wuz lickin’ up my brains, an’ I would be seein’ snakes an’ -sich things afore long. - -“The next night sumhow er ’nuther I thought ter go an’ see if he wuz -thar ag’in, an’ sure ’nough, thar he sot, lookin’ kinder sad an’ making -marks on the rocks with his fingers. I hed my hand on my gun this time, -so I got a little closter than afore. But, by hookey, he got away from -me ag’in, nor did he cum back. - -“I could hardly wait fer the next night ter cum round. At the same time -I wuz on hand good an’ early, jes’ as it begun ter git dark, an’ the -trees looked like long spooks a-stretchin’ out their arms. I looked -terward the clift, an’ thar he sot a-markin’ an’ a-scratchin’ on the -rock with his fingers an’ still looking sad. Now, this bein’ the third -time, I kinder got bold, an’ I went a little closter, an’ says: - -“‘Sandy, wha-what’s the ma-mat-matter with you? Didn’t the boys do the -plantin’ right fer you?’ - -“Then as luck would hev it I thought of sumthin’ else right quick, an’ I -said: - -“‘Or is it the dust you hev hid whar yer sittin’?’ - -“Waal, he looked up then, an’ the happiest smile cum ter his face, an’ -all ter once he disappeared ag’in. An’ since then I hev sot here an’ -guarded the place till the right one cums along ter claim it. - -“Let’s see. What did you say yer name wuz?” - -“Pardon me. I thought I had told you. My name is John Willett Barr.” - -“Polly, oh, Polly! Cum hyar, gal. What wuz Sandy’s full name? I plum -fergot.” - -“What you want ter know fer?” she asked. “I ain’t a-goin’ ter tell you -now. Thet’s my own secret.” - -“Cum, cum, gal. Tell me ter once, or it won’t be he’lthy fer you.” - -“Waal, then,” she answered stubbornly, “it’s John Willett Barr.” - -At her reply the younger man’s face grew deathly pale, and he started up -from his chair, but Kit thrust him back into his seat, saying: - -“Bring me the letter, Polly.” - -“What are you goin’ ter do with it, pa?” she inquired, cautiously. - -“I promised old Sandy on my oath ter keep it till the right one cums -erlong ter claim it, an’ I mean ter keep my word. The right one is here, -gal. Thar he sits. So trot thet letter out, an’ don’t parley long with -me if you knows when yer well off.” - -Polly stared at the younger man in utter bewilderment for a moment. -Then, turning slowly, she stepped quietly into the cabin after the -precious document; an unusual gleam of joy lighted up her face and a -suppressed excitement shone in her eyes. Under her breath she said: -“Sumhow er ruther I felt he wuz the right one.” - -Too truly, John Barr realized in that painful moment that he whom he -sought was now dead to him; that the father from whom he had been parted -so many years was sleeping that long, dreamless sleep in the clay mound -on the hillside, which marked his last resting place. As he turned to -look at the face of old, honest Kit, who had been his father’s friend -during those long years of forced exile, a happy smile lit up the old -miner’s rugged features as he pointed with his finger to the rock cliff -near the old spruce vine, and said, in an exultant, trembling voice: - -“Thar he be, stranger--jes’ as I hev seen him many a night--yer dad--my -pard--pore old Sandy!” - -With an eager voice John Barr sprang forward, and the mountains echoed -and re-echoed the plaintive cry of “Father! Father!” But his -outstretched arms clasped only emptiness and the darkening shadows of -the rapidly approaching night. - - - - -THE GHOSTS OF RED CREEK. - -BY S. T. - - -To the northward of Mississippi City and its neighbor, Handsboro, there -extends a tract of pine forest for miles with but few habitations -scattered through it. Black and Red Creeks, with their numerous -branches, drain this region into the Pascagoula River to the eastward. -With the swamps of Pascagoula as a refuge, and the luxuriant and -unfrequented bottoms of Red and Black Creeks to browse upon, there are -few choicer spots for deer. Knowing this fact, a small party of -gentlemen on the day before a crisp, cold Christmas, started from -Handsboro in a large four-wheeled wagon for a thirty-mile drive into -this wilderness of pine and a week’s sport after the deer. The guide was -Jim Caruthers, a true woodsman, and the driver and general factotum, a -jolly negro named Jack Lyons, than whom no one could make a better -hoe-cake and cook a venison steak. His laugh could be heard a quarter of -a mile, and his good nature was as expansive as the range of the -laughter. - -The usual experiences of a hunting camp were heartily enjoyed during -the first days of this life out of doors; but its cream did not rise -until about the fifth night, when, from familiar intercourse, Jack Lyons -became loquacious, and after the day’s twenty or twenty-five-mile walk, -would spin yarns in front of the camp fire, which brought forgetfulness -of fatigue. - -The night before New Year’s was intensely cold. The cold north wind of -the afternoon had subsided at sunset, and only a gust now and again -touched the musical leaves of the pines, making them vibrant with that -mournful score of nature’s operas which even maestros have failed to -catch. - -In front of two new and white tents two sportsmen reclined at length -within reach of the warmth of the fire, while opposite them rested at -ease the guide and the worthy Jack Lyons. - -Wearied with the day’s chase four stanch hounds--Ringwood, Rose, Jet and -Boxer--were dreaming of future quarry. - -The firelight brought out in bright relief the trunks of the tall pines -like cathedral columns, and sparkling through the leafy dome overhead -the scintillating stars glistened with a diamond brightness. A silence -which added its influence to the scene rested about the borders of the -creek below, and gave more effect to the story of the veteran teamster -than perhaps it otherwise would have had. - -“If de deer run down de creek,” said old Jack, smacking his lips over a -carefully prepared brewing of the real Campbellton punch, “wese boun’ to -see fun to-morrer, for dey’ll take us down thar by de old Gibbet’s -place. In daylight dere’s no place like it, but after nightfall, you bet -you wouldn’t catch dis nigger thar.” - -Old Jack was naturally asked why he didn’t care about visiting the -Gibbet’s place at night. Asking to be excused until he filled his pipe, -the silence was unbroken until his return. He piled on more pine knots -and commenced: - -“You kno’, gemmen, dat when de gunboats was in de sound we folks had to -travel way back hyar on dese roads outun de range of deir big guns. I -was ’gaged by Mr. Harrison in hauling salt from de factory at -Mississippi City, on de beach ober to Mobile, an’ I had been making a -trip ebery week or so. Dis back country road was neber thought ob by de -Federals, an’ we had good times long de way, no shells and no shootin’. - -“De nite, gemmen, I’se speakin’ of was a Friday, dat yous all knows is -unlucky. Well, you see, I hitched up Betsie an’ Rose in de lead, an’ ole -Fox an’ Blossom at de pole, an’ takes in de biggest load of salt dat -team eber carried. I starts out an’ crosses de Biloxi Riber at Han’sboro -jes’ as de moon was goin’ down. Yes, boss, dese roads weren’t no better -den now, an’ de rain had made ’em mighty rough when yer come to de -holes. - -“I sat in de seat whistlin’ ‘De Cows is in de Pea Patch,’ and a-thinkin’ -of Sarah Jamison, what was afterwards my wife, when I felt de off fore -wheel go ‘kersush’ in a hole up to de hub. I’d made seventeen miles out -ob Han’sboro. I did some cussin’, an’ den went to de fence, about twenty -yards off, an’ took out a rail to prize up de wheel. Den I saw I was at -Mister Gibbet’s place. I sez to myself, I’ll go up to de house an’ get -old Mr. Gibbet to give me a turn. I had done gone by dar two weeks afore -an’ seed de old man. - -“Now, gemmen, yer listen to me, for what I’se tellin’ yer is as sure as -Jinny’ll blow de horn on de las’ day. I walked up to de house an’ dar I -saw a bright light inside. It showed out froo de windows, an’ I saw -shadders of Miss Gibbet and Mrs. Gibbet on de window curtain--shore, -honeys, shore. De front do’ was shet, an’ I steps up on ter de gallery -an’ knocks wid de butt end of my whip. I didn’t knock loud, needer. God -bless us all, gemmen, de lights went out like dat, an’ I hears set up a -laugh, ha-ha-ha-ha. How dat set my knees a-shakin’. I opens de do’, an’ -dere was no sign of anybody. I struck a match an’ all de furniture was -moved out, an’ de old red curtain dat I fought I seed was in rags. De -whole family was gone, for shore. I didn’t kno’ ’zactly what to think -’bout dem strange voices, but I started back to de wagon, when it -lightened, an’ bress God, dar in de front yard was six graves jes’ made. -Somefin’ wrong here, sed I; an’ I builds a fire by de wagon an’ digs de -wheel out. Jes’ den old Squire Pasture kem along de road from Mobile, -an’ he tells me de news. Ole man Gibbet cut de froats of his wife and -fore chillerns an’ shoot hisself in de head outun jealousy of his wife. -Dey was all buried in de front yard, an’ de house was deserted ten days -befo’. - -“Gemmen, when I hear dat, dem mules make de quickest time to Mobile eber -seed; an’ youse can tell me dar’s no ghosts, but yo’ don’ catch me roun’ -dat log house of Gibbet’s ’ceptin’ sun’s an hour high.” - -Jack looked suspiciously over his shoulder into the darkness and crawled -into his blanket, muttering: - -“It scares dis nigger eben now to tell ’bout dat night.” - -Sleep soon fell upon the camp, but the impression of old Jack’s story -survived the night, and the next day he still asserted its truth. - - - - -THE SPECTRE BRIDE. - - -The winter nights up at Sault Ste. Marie are as white and luminous as -the Milky Way. The silence that rests upon the solitude appears to be -white also. Nature has included sound in her arrestment. Save the still -white frost, all things are obliterated. The stars are there, but they -seem to belong to heaven and not to earth. They are at an immeasurable -height, and so black is the night that the opaque ether rolls between -them and the observer in great liquid billows. - -In such a place it is difficult to believe that the world is peopled to -any great extent. One fancies that Cain has just killed Abel, and that -there is need for the greatest economy in the matter of human life. - -The night Ralph Hagadorn started out for Echo Bay he felt as if he were -the only man in the world, so complete was the solitude through which he -was passing. He was going over to attend the wedding of his best friend, -and was, in fact, to act as the groomsman. Business had delayed him, and -he was compelled to make his journey at night. But he hadn’t gone far -before he began to feel the exhilaration of the skater. His skates were -keen, his legs fit for a longer journey than the one he had undertaken, -and the tang of the frost was to him what a spur is to a spirited horse. - -He cut through the air as a sharp stone cleaves the water. He could feel -the tumult of the air as he cleft it. As he went on he began to have -fancies. It seemed to him that he was enormously tall--a great Viking of -the Northland, hastening over icy fiords to his love. That reminded him -that he had a love--though, indeed, that thought was always present with -him as a background for other thoughts. To be sure, he had not told her -she was his love, because he had only seen her a few times and the -opportunity had not presented itself. She lived at Echo Bay, too, and -was to be the maid of honor to his friend’s bride--which was another -reason why he skated on almost as swiftly as the wind, and why, now and -then, he let out a shout of exhilaration. - -The one drawback in the matter was that Marie Beaujeu’s father had -money, and that Marie lived in a fine house and wore otter skin about -her throat and little satin-lined mink boots on her feet when she went -sledding, and that the jacket in which she kept a bit of her dead -mother’s hair had a black pearl in it as big as a pea. These things -made it difficult--nay, impossible--for Ralph Hagadorn to say anything -more than “I love you.” But that much he meant to have the satisfaction -of saying, no matter what came of it. - -With this determination growing upon him he swept along the ice which -gleamed under the starlight. Indeed, Venus made a glowing path toward -the west and seemed to reassure him. He was sorry he could not skim down -that avenue of light from the love star, but he was forced to turn his -back upon it and face toward the northeast. - -It came to him with a shock that he was not alone. His eyelashes were a -good deal frosted and his eyeballs blurred with the cold, and at first -he thought it an illusion. But he rubbed his eyes hard and at length -made sure that not very far in front of him was a long white skater in -fluttering garments who sped over the snows fast as ever werewolf went. -He called aloud, but there was no answer, and then he gave chase, -setting his teeth hard and putting a tension on his firm young muscles. -But however fast he might go the white skater went faster. After a time -he became convinced, as he chanced to glance for a second at the North -Star, that the white skater was leading him out of his direct path. For -a moment he hesitated, wondering if he should not keep to his road, but -the strange companion seemed to draw him on irresistibly, and so he -followed. - -Of course it came to him more than once that this might be no earthly -guide. Up in those latitudes men see strange things when the hoar frost -is on the earth. Hagadorn’s father, who lived up there with the Lake -Superior Indians and worked in the copper mines, had once welcomed a -woman at his hut on a bitter night who was gone by morning, and who left -wolf tracks in the snow--yes, it was so, and John Fontanelle, the -half-breed, could tell you about it any day--if he were alive. (Alack, -the snow where the wolf tracks were is melted now!) - -Well, Hagadorn followed the white skater all the night, and when the ice -flushed red at dawn and arrows of lovely light shot up into the cold -heavens, she was gone, and Hagadorn was at his destination. Then, as he -took off his skates while the sun climbed arrogantly up to his place -above all other things, Hagadorn chanced to glance lakeward, and he saw -there was a great wind-rift in the ice and that the waves showed blue as -sapphires beside the gleaming ice. Had he swept along his intended path, -watching the stars to guide him, his glance turned upward, all his body -at magnificent momentum, he must certainly have gone into that cold -grave. The white skater had been his guardian angel! - -Much impressed, he went up to his friend’s house, expecting to find -there the pleasant wedding furore. But someone met him quietly at the -door, and his friend came downstairs to greet him with a solemn -demeanor. - -“Is this your wedding face?” cried Hagadorn. “Why, really, if this is -the way you are affected, the sooner I take warning the better.” - -“There’s no wedding to-day,” said his friend. - -“No wedding? Why, you’re not----” - -“Marie Beaujeu died last night----” - -“Marie----” - -“Died last night. She had been skating in the afternoon, and she came -home chilled and wandering in her mind, as if the frost had got in it -somehow. She got worse and worse and talked all the time of you.” - -“Of me?” - -“We wondered what it all meant. We didn’t know you were lovers.” - -“I didn’t know it myself; more’s the pity.” - -“She said you were on the ice. She said you didn’t know about the big -breaking up, and she cried to us that the wind was off shore. Then she -cried that you could come in by the old French Creek if you only -knew----?” - -“I came in that way,” interrupted Hagadorn. - -“How did you come to do that? It’s out of your way.” - -So Hagadorn told him how it came to pass. - -And that day they watched beside the maiden, who had tapers at her head -and feet, and over in the little church the bride who might have been at -her wedding said prayers for her friend. Then they buried her in her -bridesmaid’s white, and Hagadorn was there before the altar with her, as -he intended from the first. At midnight the day of the burial her -friends were married in the gloom of the cold church, and they walked -together through the snow to lay their bridal wreaths on her grave. - -Three nights later Hagadorn started back again to his home. They wanted -him to go by sunlight, but he had his way and went when Venus made her -bright path on the ice. He hoped for the companionship of the white -skater. But he did not have it. His only companion was the wind. The -only voice he heard was the baying of a wolf on the north shore. The -world was as white as if it had just been created and the sun had not -yet colored nor man defiled it. - - - - -HOW HE CAUGHT THE GHOST. - - -“Yes, the house is a good one,” said the agent; “it’s in a good -neighborhood, and you’re getting it at almost nothing; but I think it -right to tell you all about it. You are orphans, you say, and with a -mother dependent on you? That makes it all the more necessary that you -should know. The fact is, the house is said to be haunted----” - -The agent could not help smiling as he said it, and he was relieved to -see an answering smile on the two faces before him. - -“Ah, you don’t believe in ghosts,” he went on; “nor do I, for that -matter; but, somehow, the reputation of the house keeps me from having a -tenant long at a time. The place ought to rent for twice as much as it -does.” - -“If we succeed in driving out the ghost, you will not raise the rent?” -asked the boy, with a merry twinkle in his eyes. - -“Well, no--not this year, at any rate,” laughed the agent. And so the -house was rented; and the slip of a girl and the tall lad, her brother, -went their way. - -Within a week the family had moved into the house, and were delighted -with it. It was large and cool, with wide halls and fine stairways, and -with more room than they needed. But that did not matter in the least, -for they had always been cramped in small houses, suffering many -discomforts; and they never could have afforded such a place as this if -it had not been “haunted.” - -“Blessings on the ghost!” cried Margaret, gaily, as she ran about as -merry as a child. “Who would be without a ghost in the house, when it -brings one like this?” - -“And it is so near your school,” said the mother; “and I used to worry -so over the long walk; and David can come home to lunch now, and you -don’t know what a pleasure that will be.” - -“It seems to me,” David gravely explained, “that if I should meet the -ghost I would treat him with the greatest politeness and encourage him -to stay. We shall not miss the room he takes, shall we? I think it would -be well to set aside that room over yours, Maggie, for his ghostship’s -own, for we shall not need that, you know. Besides, the door doesn’t -shut, and he can go in and out without breaking the lock.” - -And then they all laughed and had a great deal of fun over the ghost, -which was a great joke to them. - -They were very tired that night and slept soundly all night long. When -they met the next morning there was more laughter about the ghost which -was shy about meeting strangers, probably, and had made no effort to -introduce himself. For the next three days they were all hard at work, -trying to bring chaos into something like order; and then it was time -for the school to open, and Margaret was to begin teaching, and David -inserted an advertisement in the city papers for a maid-of-all-work, who -might help their mother in their absence. - -For one whole day prospective colored servants presented themselves and -announced: - -“Is dis de house whar dey wants a worklady? No, ma’am, I ain’ gwine to -work in dis house. Ketch me workin’ in no ha’nted house.” - -After which they each and all departed, and others came in their stead. -One was secured after a while, but no sooner had she talked across the -fence with a neighbor’s servant than she, too, departed. - -“Never mind, children,” said Mrs. Craig, wearily, “I would much rather -do the work than be troubled in this way.” - -So the maid-of-all-work was dismissed and the Craig family locked the -doors and went to their rooms, worn out with the day’s anxieties. - -They had been in the house four days, and there had been neither sight -nor sound of the ghost. The very mention of it was enough to start them -all to laughing, for they were thoroughly practical people, with a -fondness for inquiring into anything that seemed mysterious to them and -for understanding it thoroughly before they let it go. - -David was soon sleeping the sound sleep of healthy boyhood, and all was -silent in the house, when Margaret stole softly into his room and laid -her hand on his arm. He was not easy to waken, and several minutes had -passed before he sat up in bed with an articulate murmur of surprise. - -“Hush!” said Margaret, in a whisper, with her hand on his lips. “I want -you to come into my room and listen to a sound that I have been hearing -for some time.” - -“Doors creaking,” suggested David, as he began to dress. - -“Nothing of the kind,” was all she said. - -They walked up the stairway, and along the upper hall to the door of the -unused room. Something was wrong with the lock and the door would not -stay fastened, as I have said. - -Something that was not fear thrilled their hearts as they pushed the -door further ajar, and stood where they could see every foot of the -vacant floor. One of their own boxes stood in the middle of the room, -but aside from that, nothing was to be seen, and they looked at one -another in silence. - -“Hold the lamp a minute, Maggie,” David said, at last, and then he went -all over the room, and looked more particularly at its emptiness, and -even felt the walls. - -“Secret panels, you know,” he said, with a smile, but it was a very -puzzled smile indeed. - -“I can’t see what it could have been,” Margaret said, as they went down -the stairs. - -“No, I can’t see, either, but I’m going to see,” said David. “That was a -chain, and chains don’t drag around by themselves, you know. A ghost -could not drag a chain, if he were to try.” - -“The conventional ghost very often drags chains,” said Margaret, as she -closed the door of her room. - -And then she lay awake all night and listened for the conventional ghost -that dragged a chain, but it seemed that the weight of the chain must -have wearied him, for he was not heard again. - -The mother had slept through it all, and next morning they gave her a -vivid account of the night’s adventure. - -“Perhaps it was someone in the house,” she said, in alarm. There were no -ghosts within the bounds of possibility, so far as she was concerned, -but burglars were very possible, indeed. - -Then Margaret and David both laughed more than ever. - -“What fun it would be,” said David, “for a burglar to get into this -house and try to find something worth carrying away!” - -So they went on to the next night, all three fully determined to spend -the night in listening for the ghost, and running him to earth if -possible. - -But it was Margaret that heard the ghost, after all. She had been -sleeping and was suddenly startled wide awake, and there, overhead, was -the sound of the chain dragging; and just as she was on the point of -springing out of bed to call her brother, the chain seemed to go out of -the upper room. She lay still and listened, and in a moment she heard it -again. - -It was coming down the stairs. - -There was no carpet on the stairs, and she could hear the chain drop -from step to step, until it had come the whole way down. There it was, -almost at the door of her room, and something that was strangely like -fear kept her lying still, listening in horrified silence. - -Then it went along the hall, dragging close to the door; and then -further away; and back and forth for awhile; and then it began dragging -back up the stairs again. Step by step she could hear it drawn over the -edge of every step--and by the time it had reached the top she -remembered herself and called David. - -Again did the brother and sister make a tour of the upper room, with the -lamp. Not only that, but they looked into every nook and corner of the -upper part of the house, and at last came back, baffled. They had seen -nothing extraordinary, and they had not heard a sound. - -“I’m going to see that ghost to-night,” David said to his sister the -next evening. - -“How?” - -“I’m going to sit up all night at the head of the stairs. Don’t say -anything about it to mother; it might make her uneasy.” - -So, after the household were all quiet, David slipped into his place at -the head of the stairs, and sat down to his vigil. He had placed a -screen at the head of the stairway so that it hid him from view--as if a -ghost cared for a screen--and he established himself behind it, and -prepared to be as patient as he could. - -It seemed to him that hours so long had never been devised as those the -town clocks tolled off that night. He bore it until midnight moderately -well, because, he argued with himself, if there were any ghosts about -they would surely walk then; but they were not in a humor for walking; -and still the hours rolled on without any developments. He took the -fidgets, and had nervous twitches all over him, and at last he could -endure it no longer, and had leaned his head back against the wall and -was going blissfully to sleep when---- - -He heard a chain dragging just beyond the open door of that unused room. - -In spite of himself a shiver ran down his back. There was no mistaking -it; it was a real chain, if he had ever heard one. More than that, it -had left the room, and was coming straight towards the stairs. The hall -was dark, and it was impossible for him to see anything, although he -strained his eyes in the direction of the sound. And even while he -looked it had passed behind the screen, and was going down the stairs, -dropping from step to step with a clank. - -Half way down a narrow strip of moonlight from a stair-window lay -directly across the steps. Whatever the thing was, it must pass through -that patch of light, and David leaned forward and watched. - -Down it went from step to step, and presently it had slipped through the -light, and was down; and a little later it came back again, through the -light, and up the stairs, and back into that unused room. - -And then David slapped his knees jubilantly, and ran down to his room, -and slept all the rest of the night. - -Next morning he was very mysterious about his discoveries of the night -before. - -“Oh, yes, I saw the ghost,” he said to Maggie. “There; don’t ask so many -questions; I’ll tell you more about it to-morrow, maybe.” - -And that was all the information she could get from him. It was very -provoking. - -That day David made a purchase down town and brought home a bulky -bundle, which he hid in his own room and would not let his sister even -peep at. - -“I’m going to try to catch a ghost to-night,” he said, “and you know how -it is; if I brag too much beforehand, I shall be sure to fail.” - -He was working with something in the hall after the others had retired; -but he did not sit up this time. He went to bed, and Margaret listened -at his door and found that he was soon asleep. - -But away in the night they were all awakened by a squealing that brought -them all into the hall in a great hurry; and there, at the head of the -stairs, they found the huge rat-trap that David had set a few hours -before, and in the midst of the toils was a rat. - -“Why, David,” exclaimed the mother, “I didn’t know that there was a rat -in the house.” - -And then, all at once, she saw that there was a long chain hanging from -a little iron collar around the creature’s neck, and she and Margaret -cried together. - -“And this was the ghost!” - -Such a funny ghost when they came to think of it--this poor rat, with a -nest in some hole of the broken chimney. He had been someone’s pet, -once, perhaps; and now, the households he had broken up, the nights he -had disturbed, the wild sensations he had created--it made his captors -laugh to think that this innocent creature had been the cause of the -whole trouble. - -“I’ll get a cage for him, and take care of him for the rest of his -life,” said David. “We owe him so much that we can’t afford to be -ungrateful.” - -The next morning he took the ghost-in-a-cage and showed it to the agent, -and gave him a vivid account of the capture. - -“So, you have a good house for about half price, all on account of that -rat,” exclaimed the agent, grimly. “Young man--but never mind, you -deserve it. What are you working for now? Six dollars a week? If you -ever want to change your place--suppose you come around here. I think -you need a business that will give you a chance to grow.” - -And the agent and David shook hands warmly over the cage of the -“ghost.” - - - - -GRAND-DAME’S GHOST STORY. - -BY C. D. - - -I don’t know whether you ever tell your children ghost stories or not; -some mothers don’t, but our mother, though of German descent, was -strong-minded on the ghost subject, and early taught all of her children -to be fearless mentally as well as physically, and, though dearly fond -of hearing ghost stories, especially if they were real true ghosts, we -were sadly skeptical as to their being anything of the kind that could -harm. We were quite learned in ghostly lore, knew all about -“doppeigangers,” “Will o’ the Wisp,” “blue lights,” etc., and we could -not have a greater treat for good behavior than for our mother to draw -on her store of supernatural tales for our entertainment. The story I am -about to relate she told us one stormy night, when, gathered round her -chair in her own cozy sanctum, before a cheerful fire, we ate nuts and -apples, and listened while she recited “an o’er true tale,” told her by -her grandmother, who herself witnessed the vision: - -It was a fearful night, the wind sobbed and wailed round the house like -lost spirits mourning their doom; the rain beat upon the casements, and -the trees, writhing in the torture of the fierce blast, groaned and -swayed until their tops almost swept the earth; bright flashes of -lightning pierced even through the closed shutters and heavy curtains, -and the thunder had a sullen, threatening roar that made your blood -creep. It was a night to make one seek to shut out all sound, draw the -curtains close, stir the fire and nestle deep in the arm-chair before -it, with feet upon the fender, and have something cheerful to think or -talk about. But I was all alone; none in the house with me but the -servants, and the servants’ wing was detached from the main part of the -building, for I do not care to have menials near me, and I had no loved -ones near. - -It was just such a night that Nancy Black died. “What a fearful night -for the soul to leave its earthly home and go out into the vast, unknown -future!” I spoke aloud, as, rousing from a train of thought, I drew my -heavy mantle closer round me, wheeled my arm-chair nearer the fire, and -cuddled down in it, burying my feet in the foot-cushion to warm them, -for I felt strangely cold. I was in the library; it was my usual -sitting-room, for I seldom used the parlors. What was the use? My books -were my friends, and I loved best to be with them. My children dead, or -married and away, the cold, grand parlors always seemed gloomy and sad; -the ghosts of departed pleasures haunted them, and I cared not to enter -them. - -It was a long, wide room across the hall from the parlors, running the -whole length of the house, and was lined with shelves from floor to -ceiling. My husband’s father had been a bibliomaniac, and my husband had -had a leaning that way also, and the shelves held many an old rare work -that was worth its weight in gold. The fire, though burning brightly, -did not illume one-half the room of which, sitting in the chimney -corner, I commanded a full view, and had been looking at the shadows -playing on the furniture and shelves, as the flame shot up, and after -flickering a moment, would die out, leaving a gloom which would break -away into fantastic shadows as the firelight would again shoot up. - -While watching the gleams of light and darkling shades, unconsciously -the wailing of the storm outside attracted my attention, there seemed to -be odd noises of tapping on the windows, and sobs and sighs, as though -someone was entreating entrance from the fierce tumult; and as I sat -there, again I thought of Nancy Black, the old schoolgirl friend who had -loved me so dearly, and the night when she went forth to meet the doom -appointed her; resting my head upon my hand, I sat gazing in the fire, -thinking over her strange life, and still stranger death, and wondering -what could have become of the money and jewels that I knew she had once -possessed. - -While sitting thus, a queer sensation crept over me; it was not fear, -but a feeling as though if I’d look up I’d see something frightful; a -shiver, not like that of cold, ran from my head to my feet, and a -sensation as though someone was breathing icy cold breath upon my -forehead, the same feeling you would cause by holding a piece of ice to -your cheek; it fluttered over my face and finally settled round my lips, -as though the unseen one was caressing me, thrilling me with horror. But -I am not fearful, nervous nor imaginative, and resolutely throwing off -the dread that fell upon me, I turned round and looked up, and there, so -close by my side that my hand, involuntarily thrown out, passed through -her seeming form, stood Nancy Black. It was Nancy Black, and yet not -Nancy Black; her whole body had a semi-transparent appearance, just as -your hand looks when you hold it between yourself and a strong light; -her clothing, apparently the same as worn in life, had a wavy, seething, -flickering look, like flames have, and yet did not seem to burn. - -“In the name of God, Nancy Black, what brought you here, and whence came -you?” I exclaimed. - -A hollow whisper followed: - -“Thank you, my old friend, for speaking to me, and, oh, how deeply I -thank you for thinking of me to-night--I shall have rest.” - -Rest! I heard echoed, and a jeering laugh rang through the room that -made her quiver at its sound. - -“I have been near you often; but always failed to find you in a -condition when you would be en rapport before to-night. What I came for -I will tell you; whence I come, you need not know; suffice it to say, -that were I happy I would not be here on such an errand, nor on such a -night--it is only when the elements are in a tumult, and the winds wail -and moan, that we come forth. When you hear these sounds it is souls of -the lost you hear mourning their doom--’tis then they wander up and -down, to and fro, their only release from their fearful home of torture -and undying pain. - -“I have come to tell you that you must go over to the old house, and in -the back room I always kept locked, have the carpet taken up from toward -the fireplace. You will see a plank with a knot-hole in it. Remove that, -and you will find what caused me to lose my soul--have prayers said for -me, for ’tis well to pray for the dead. The money and jewels give in -charity; bury in holy ground the others you find, and pray for them and -me. Ah! Jeannette, you thought your old friend, though strange and odd, -pure and innocent. It is a bitter part of my punishment that I must -change your thought of me. Farewell! Do not fail me, and I shall trouble -you no more. But whenever you hear that wind howl and sweep round the -house as it does to-night, know that the lost are near. It is their -swift flight through space--fleeing before the scourge of memory and -conscience--that causes that sound. - -“That to-morrow you may not think you are dreaming, here is a token,” -and she touched the palm of my hand with her finger-tips, and as you -see, my child, to this day, there are three crimson spots in the palm of -my hand that nothing will eradicate. - -“Do not fail me, and pray for us, Jeannette, pray,” and with a longing, -wistful gaze, and a deep, sobbing sigh, Nancy Black faded from my sight. - -“Am I dreaming?” I exclaimed, as I rose from my chair and rang the bell. -When the servant entered, I bade him attend to the fire and light the -lamps, and I went through the room to see if any unusual arrangement of -the furniture could have caused the appearance, but nothing was -apparent, and I bade him send my maid to attend me in my chamber, for I -could not help feeling unwilling to remain in the library any longer -that evening. - -While making my toilet for the night my maid said: - -“Have you burned your hand, madam?” - -Glancing hastily down, I saw three dark crimson spots upon the palm of -my left hand. They had an odd look, seared as though touched by a -red-hot iron, yet the flesh was soft, not burned and not painful. Making -some excuse for it, I did not allude to it again, and dismissed her -speedily, that I might reflect undisturbed over the singular occurrence. -There were the marks upon my hand; I could not remove them, and they did -not fade. In fact, their deep red made the rest of the palm lose its -pinkish hue and look pale from the strong contrast. Could I have been -asleep and dreamed it all, and by any means have done this to myself? I -thought, but finally concluded that on the morrow I’d go over to Nancy -Black’s old residence and settle the question; and with that conclusion -had to content myself until the morrow came. - -Nancy Black was an old friend from my girlhood, who had owned large -property in the town, and lived all alone in a spacious stone house -directly opposite my home, and who, when dying, had left me the sole -legatee of her property. - -When morning came I took the keys, and, with my maid, went over to -Nancy’s house. It had never been disturbed since her death, which was -sudden and somewhat singular, and the furniture remained just as she -left it when taken to her last resting place. We went to the room Nancy -had directed. I bade Sarah take up the carpet, and, sure enough, there -was a plank with a knot-hole in it; so I sent her from the room, and -lifted the plank myself, and there, between the two joints, rested a -long box, the lid not fastened. Opening it, I was horrified to see two -skeletons--those of an infant and of a woman, small in stature and -delicate frame. In a moment it flashed before me that I saw all that -remained of Nancy Black’s young sister, a girl of seventeen, who had -left home somewhat mysteriously years ago, and had died while absent--at -least, that was the version Nancy had given of her absence, and no one -had dreamed of doubting it, her tale was so naturally told. - -Left orphans when Lucy was only two years and Nancy eighteen, she had -devoted her life to the care of this young girl, and when she found her -sister had fallen, she, in her pride of name and position, had destroyed -mother and child, that her shame might not be known, and had lived all -those dreary years in that house with her fearful secret. - -Round the box, heaped up on every side, were money and jewels, and a -parchment scroll among them had written on it: “Lucy’s share of our -father’s estate.” I carried out Nancy’s wishes to the letter, for I now -firmly believed that she had come to me herself that night. To avoid -scandal resting on the dead, I took our clergyman into my confidence, -and with his assistance had the remains buried quietly in consecrated -ground. The money and jewels were given to the poor, and the old -building I turned into a home for destitute females; and morning and -night, as I kneel in prayer, I pray forgiveness to rest upon Nancy Black -and peace to her troubled soul. - - - - -A FIGHT WITH A GHOST. - -BY Q. E. D. - - -“No, I never believed much in ghosts,” said the doctor. “But I was -always rather afraid of them.” - -“Have you ever seen one?” asked one of the other men. - -The doctor took his cigar out of his mouth and contemplated the ash for -a moment or two before replying. “I have had some rather startling -experiences,” he said, after a pause, during which the rest of us -exchanged glances, for the doctor has seen many things and is not averse -to talking about them in congenial company. “Would you care about -hearing one of them? It gives me the cold shivers now to speak of it.” -We nodded, and the doctor, taking a sip as an antidote to the shivers, -began: - -“You remember George Carson, who played for the ‘Varsity some years ago; -big chap, with a light mustache? Well, I saw a good deal of him before -he married, while he was reading for the bar in town. It was just after -he became engaged to Miss Stonor, who is now Mrs. Carson, that he asked -me to go down to a place which his people had taken in the country. Miss -Stonor was to be there and he wanted me to meet her. I could not go down -for Christmas Day, as I had promised to be with my people. But as I had -been working a bit too hard, and wanted a few days’ rest, I decided to -run down for a few days about the New Year. - -“Woodcote was a pleasant enough place to look at. There were two packs -of hounds within easy distance, and it was not far enough from a station -to cut you off completely from the morning papers. The Carsons had been -lucky, I thought, in coming across such a good house at such a moderate -figure. For, as George told me, the owner had been obliged to go abroad -for his health, and was anxious not to leave the place empty all the -winter. It was an old house, with big gables and preposterous corners -all over the place, and you couldn’t walk ten paces along any of the -passages without tumbling up or down stairs. But it had been patched -from time to time and, among other improvements, a big billiard-room had -been built out at the back. A country house in the winter without a -billiard-room, when the frost stops hunting, is just--well, not even a -gilded prison. The party was a small one; besides George and his father -and mother, there were only a couple of Misses Carson, who, being -somewhere in the early teens, didn’t count, and Miss Stonor, who, of -course, counted a good deal, and, lastly, myself. - -“Miss Stonor ought to have been happy, for George Carson, besides being -an excellent fellow all around, was by no means a bad match, being an -only son with considerable expectations. But, somehow or other, she did -not strike me as looking either very well or very happy. She gave me the -impression of having something on her mind, which made her alternately -nervous and listless. George, I fancied, noticed it, and was puzzled by -it, for I caught him several times watching her with an anxious and -inquiring look, but, as I was not there as a doctor, of course it was no -business of mine, though I discovered the reason before I left Woodcote. - -“The second night after my arrival--we had been playing, I remember, a -family pool; the rest had gone upstairs to bed--George and I adjourned -to a sort of study, which he had arranged upstairs, for a final smoke -and a chat before turning in. The study was next to his bedroom, and -parted off from it by curtains. As we were settling down I missed my -pipe, and remembered that I had laid it down in the billiard-room. On -principle I never smoke another man’s pipe, so I lit a candle, the house -being in darkness, and started away in search of my own. The house -looked awfully weird by the flickering light of a solitary candle, and -the stairs creaked in a particularly gruesome way behind me, just for -all the world as though someone were following at my heels. I found my -pipe where I had expected in the billiard-room, and came back in perhaps -a little more hurry than was absolutely necessary. Which, perhaps, -explains why I stumbled in the uncertain light over a couple of -unforeseen stairs, and dropped my candle. Of course it went out, but -after a little groping I found it. Having no matches with me I was -obliged to feel my way along the banisters, for it was so dark that I -could not see my hand in front of me. And as I slowly advanced, sliding -my hand along the broad balustrade at my side, it suddenly slid over -something cold and clammy, which was not balustrade at all; for, -stopping dead, and closing my fingers round it for an instant, I felt -that I was holding another hand, a skinny, bony hand, which writhed -itself slowly from my grasp. And though I could hear nothing and see -nothing, I was yet conscious that something was brushing past me and -going up the stairs. - -“‘Hi--what’s that? Who are you?’ I called. - -“There was no answer. - -“I admit that I was in a regular funk. I must have shown it in my face. - -“‘What’s the matter?’ asked George, as I blundered into his study. - -“‘Oh, nothing,’ I answered; ‘dropped my candle and lost the way.’ - -“‘But who were you talking to?’ - -“‘I was only swearing at the candle,’ I replied. - -“‘Oh! I thought perhaps you had seen--somebody,’ replied George. - -“Somehow I did not like to tell him the truth, for fear he would laugh -at my nervousness. But I determined to keep an eye on my liver, and take -a couple of weeks’ complete rest. That night I woke up several times -with the feeling of that confounded hand under my own--a clammy hand -which writhed as my fingers closed upon it. - -“The next morning after breakfast I was in the billiard-room practicing -strokes while Carson was over at the stables. Presently the door opened, -and Miss Stonor looked in. - -“‘Come in,’ I said; ‘George will be back from the stables in a few -minutes. Meanwhile we can have fifty up.’ - -“‘I wanted to speak to you,’ she said. - -“She was looking very tired and ill, and I began to think I should not -have an uninterrupted holiday after all. - -“‘Do you believe in ghosts?’ she asked, having closed the door and come -up to the table, where she stood leaning with both her hands upon it. - -“‘No,’ I replied, missing an easy carrom as I remembered my experience -of last night, ‘but I believe in fancy.’ - -“‘And, supposing then that a person fancied he saw things, is there any -remedy?’ - -“‘What do you mean, Miss Stonor?’ I replied, looking at her in some -surprise. ‘Do you mean that you fancy----’ - -“I stopped, for Miss Stonor turned away, sat down on one of the -easy-chairs by the wall, and burst into tears. - -“‘Oh! please help me’ she sobbed; ‘I believe I am going mad.’ - -“I laid down my cue and went over to her. - -“‘Look here, Miss Stonor,’ I said, taking her hand, which was hot and -feverish, ‘I am a doctor, and a friend of George. Now tell me all about -it, and I’ll do my best to set it right.’ - -“She was in a more or less hysterical condition, and her words were -freely punctuated by sobs. But gradually I managed to elicit from her -that nearly every night since she came to Woodcote she had been awakened -in some mysterious way, and had seen a horrible face looking at her from -over the top of a screen which stood by the door of her bedroom. As soon -as she moved the face disappeared, which convinced her that the -apparition existed only in her imagination. That seemed to distress her -even more than if she had believed it to be a genuine ghost, for she -thought her brain was giving way. - -“I told her that she was only suffering from a very common symptom of -nervous disorder, as indeed it was, and promised to send a groom into -the village to get a prescription made up for her. And, having made me -promise to breathe no word to anyone on the subject, more especially to -George, she went away relieved. Nevertheless, I was not quite certain -that I had made a correct diagnosis of the case. You see I had been -rather upset myself not many hours before. George was longer than I -expected at the stable, and I was just going to find him when at the -door I met Mrs. Carson. - -“‘Can you spare me one moment?’ she said, as I held open the door for -her. ‘I wanted to find you alone.’ - -“‘Certainly, Mrs. Carson, with pleasure; an hour, if you wish,’ I -replied. - -“‘It is so convenient, you know, to have a doctor in the house,’ she -said, with a nervous laugh. ‘Now I want you to prescribe me a sleeping -draught. My nerves are rather out of order, and--I don’t sleep as I -should.’ - -“‘Ah,’ I said, ‘do you see faces--and such like things when you wake?’ - -“‘How do you know?’ she asked quickly. - -“‘Oh, I inferred from the other symptoms. We doctors have to observe all -kinds of little things.’ - -“‘Well, of course, I know it is only fancy; but it is just as bad as if -it were real. I assure you it is making me quite ill; and I didn’t like -to mention it to Mr. Carson or to George. They would think I was losing -my head.’ - -“I gave Mrs. Carson the same prescription as I had written for Miss -Stonor, though by that time the conviction had grown upon me that there -was something wrong which could not be cured by medicine. However, I -decided to say nothing to George about the matter at present. For I -could hardly utilize the confidence which had been placed in me by Miss -Stonor and Mrs. Carson. And my own experience of the night before would -scarcely have appeared convincing to him. But I determined that on the -next day--which was Sunday--I would invent an excuse for staying at home -from church and make some explorations in the house. There was obviously -some mystery at work which wanted clearing up. - -“We all sat up rather late that night. There seemed to be a general -disinclination to go to bed. We stayed all together in the billiard-room -until nearly midnight, and then loitered about in the hall, talking in -an aimless sort of fashion. But at last Mrs. Carson said good-night, -with a confidential nod to me, and Miss Stonor murmured, ‘So many -thanks; I’ve got it,’ and they both went upstairs. George and I parted -in the corridor above. Our rooms were opposite each other. - -“I did not begin undressing at once, but sat down and tried to piece -together some theory to account for the uncanniness of things. But the -more I thought, the more perplexing it became. There was no doubt -whatever that I had put my hand on something extremely alive and -extremely unpleasant the night before. The bare recollection of it made -me shudder. What living thing could possibly be creeping about the house -in the dark? It was a man’s hand. Of that I was certain from the size of -it. George Carson was out of the question, for he was in his room all -the time. Nor was it likely that Mr. Carson, senior, would steal about -his own house in his socks and refuse to answer when spoken to. The only -other man in the house was an eminently respectable-looking butler; and -his hand, as I had noted particularly when he poured out my wine at -dinner, was plump and soft, whereas the mysterious hand on the -balustrade was thin and bony. And then, what was the real explanation of -the face which had appeared to the two ladies? Indigestion might have -explained either singly. Extraordinary coincidences do sometimes occur, -but it seemed too extraordinary that a couple of ladies--one old and one -young--should suffer from the same indigestion in the same house, at the -same time, and with the same symptoms. On the whole, I did not feel at -all comfortable, and looked carefully in all the cupboards and recesses, -as well as under the bed, before starting to undress. Then I went to the -door, intending to lock it. Just as my hand was upon the key, I heard a -soft step in the corridor outside, accompanied by a sound which was -something between a sigh and a groan. Very faint, but quite -unmistakable, and, under the circumstances, discomposing. It might, of -course, be George. Anyhow, I decided to look and see. I turned the -handle gently and opened the door. There was nothing to be seen in the -corridor. But on the opposite side I could see a door open, and George’s -head peeping round the corner. - -“‘Hullo!’ he said. - -“‘Hullo!’ I replied. - -“‘Was that you walking up the passage?’ he asked. - -“‘No,’ I answered, ‘I thought it might be you.’ - -“‘Then who the devil was it?’ he said. ‘I’ll swear I heard someone.’ - -“There was silence for a few moments. I was wondering whether I had -better tell him of the fright I had already had, when he spoke again: - -“‘I say, just come here for a bit, old fellow; I want to speak to you.’ - -“I stepped across the passage, and we went together into the little -study which adjoined his bedroom. - -“‘Look here,’ he said, poking up the fire, which was burning low, -‘doesn’t it strike you that there is something very odd about this -house?’ - -“‘You mean----’ - -“‘Well, I wouldn’t say anything about it to the master or Miss Stonor -for fear of frightening them. All the same, scarcely a night passes but -I hear curious footsteps on the stairs. You’ve heard them yourself, -haven’t you?’ - -“‘Now you mention it,’ I said, ‘I confess I have.’ - -“‘And, what is more,’ he continued, ‘I was sitting here two nights ago -half asleep, and--it seems ridiculous, I know, but it’s a fact--I -suddenly saw a horrible face glaring at me from between those curtains -behind you. It was gone in a moment, but I saw it as plainly as I see -you.’ - -“I moved my seat uneasily. - -“‘Did you look in your bedroom or in the passage?’ I asked. - -“‘Yes--at once,’ he replied. ‘There was nothing to be seen; but twice -again that night I heard footsteps passing--good God!’ - -“He started up in his chair, staring straight over my shoulder. I turned -quickly and saw the curtains which parted off the bedroom swing -together. - -“‘What is it?’ I asked, breathlessly. - -“‘I saw it again--the same face--between the curtains.’ - -“I tore the hangings aside, and rushed into the next room. It was empty. -The lamp was burning upon a side table, and the door was open, just as -George had left it. In the passage outside all was quiet. I came back -into the study and found George running his fingers through his hair in -perplexity. - -“‘There is clearly one person too many in the house,’ I said. ‘I think -we ought to draw the place and find out who it is.’ - -“‘All right,’ said he, picking up the poker from the fireplace; ‘if it’s -anything made of flesh and blood this will be useful, and if not----’ - -“He stopped short, for at that instant the most awful shriek of horror -rang through the house--a shriek of wild, uncontrollable terror, such as -I had never heard before and I never hope to hear again. One moment we -stood staring at each other, dumbfounded. The next George Carson had -dashed out of the room and down the corridor to the stairs. I followed -close behind him. For we both knew that none but a woman in mortal fear -would shriek like that, and that that woman was Miss Stonor. - -“Down the stairs we tumbled pell-mell in the darkness. But before I -reached the landing below, where Miss Stonor’s room was, I felt, as I -had felt the evening before, something brush swiftly past me. As I ran I -turned and caught at it in the dark. But my hand gripped only empty air. -I was just about to turn back and follow it, when a cry from George -arrested me, and, looking down, I saw him standing over the prostrate -form of Miss Stonor. The door of her room was open, and by the moonlight -which streamed into the room I could see her lying in her white -nightdress across the threshold. What followed in the next few minutes -I can scarcely recall with accuracy. The whole house was aroused by the -poor girl’s awful shriek. She was quite unconscious when we came upon -her, but she revived more or less as soon as Mrs. Carson and one of the -terrified servants had lifted her into bed again. Nothing intelligible -could be gathered from her, however, as to the cause of her fright; she -only repeated, hysterically, again and again: - -“‘Oh, the face; the face!’ - -“When I saw I could do her no further good for the present, I took -George by the arm and led him out of the room. - -“‘Look here, George,’ I said, ‘we must find out the reason of this at -once. I am certain I felt something go by me as I came downstairs. Now -does that staircase lead anywhere but to our rooms?’ - -“George considered for a moment. - -“‘Yes,’ he replied; ‘there is a door at the end of the passage which -leads up into a sort of lumber room.’ - -“‘Then we’ll explore it,’ I said. ‘For my part I can’t go to sleep until -I’ve got to the bottom of this. Get the man to bring a lantern along.’ - -“The butler looked as though he didn’t half like the enterprise, and, to -tell the truth, no more did I. It was the uncanniest job I ever -undertook. However, we started, the three of us. First of all we -searched the rooms on the floor above, where George and I slept. -Everything was just as we had left it. Then I pushed open the door at -the end of the corridor. A crazy-looking staircase led up into darkness. -We went cautiously up, I first with a candle, then George, and last of -all the butler with a lantern. At the top we stepped into a big, rather -low room, with beams across the ceiling, and a rough, uneven floor. Our -lights threw strange shadows into the corners, and more than once I -started at what looked like a crouching human figure. We searched every -corner. There was nothing to be seen but a few old boxes, a roll or two -of matting, and some broken chairs. But in the far corner George pointed -out to me a rickety ladder which ended at a closed trap-door. Just then -I distinctly heard the curious, half groaning, half sighing sound which -had already puzzled me in the corridor below. We stood still and looked -at one another. We all heard the sound. - -“‘Whatever it is, it’s up there,’ I said. ‘The question is, who is going -up?’ - -“George put his candle down upon the floor and stepped upon the ladder. -It cracked beneath his weight. He stopped. - -“‘Come down; it won’t bear you,’ I said. ‘I shall have to go.’ - -“I don’t know that I was ever in such a queer funk as I was while I -slowly mounted that ladder, and pushed open the trap-door. I had formed -no clear idea of what I expected to find there. Certainly I was not -prepared for what happened. For no sooner was the trap-door fully open -than there fell--literally fell--upon me from the darkness above a thing -in human shape, which kicked and spat and tore at me as I stood clinging -to the ladder. It lasted but a moment or so, but in that moment I lived -a lifetime of terror. The ladder swayed and cracked beneath me, and I -fell to the floor with the thing gripping my throat like a vise. The -next instant George had stunned it with a blow from the poker and -dragged it off me. It lay upon its back on the floor--a ragged, hideous, -loathsome shape. And the mystery was solved.” - -“But you haven’t told us what it really was,” said one of the listeners. - -The doctor smiled. - -“It was the owner of the house,” he replied. “He had not gone abroad. He -had gone to a private lunatic asylum with homicidal mania upon him. -About a fortnight before this he had managed to escape; and, having made -his way to his former home, had concealed himself, with a cunning often -shown by lunatics, in the loft. I suppose he had found enough to eat in -his nightly rambles about the house. The only wonder is that he didn’t -kill someone before he was caught.” - - - - -COLONEL HALIFAX’S GHOST STORY. - - -I had just come back to England, after having been some years in India, -and was looking forward to meet my friends, among whom there was none I -was more anxious to see than Sir Francis Lynton. We had been to Eton -together, and for the short time I had been at Oxford, before entering -the army, we had been at the same college. Then we had parted. He came -into the title and estates of the family in Yorkshire on the death of -his grandfather--his father had predeceased--and I had been over a good -part of the world. One visit, indeed, I had made him in his Yorkshire -home, before leaving for India, of but a few days. - -It will be easily imagined how pleasant it was, two or three days after -my arrival in London, to receive a letter from Lynton, saying that he -had just seen in the papers that I had arrived, and, begging me to come -down at once to Byfield, his place in Yorkshire. - -“You are not to tell me,” he said, “that you cannot come. In fact, you -are to come on Monday. I have a couple of horses which will just suit -you; the carriage shall meet you at Packham, and all you have got to do -is to put yourself in the train which leaves Kings Cross at twelve -o’clock.” - -Accordingly, on the day appointed, I started, in due time reached -Packham, losing much time on a detestable branch line, and there found -the dog-cart of Sir Francis awaiting me. I drove at once to Byfield. - -The house I remembered. It was a low gable structure of no great size, -with old-fashioned lattice windows, separated from the park, where were -deer, by a charming terraced garden. - -No sooner did the wheels crunch the gravel by the principal entrance, -than, almost before the bell was rung, the porch-door opened, and there -stood Lynton himself, whom I had not seen for so many years, hardly -altered, and with all the joy of welcome beaming in his face. Taking me -by both hands, he drew me into the house, got rid of my hat and wraps, -looked me all over, and then, in a breath, began to say how glad he was -to see me, what a real delight it was to have got me at last under his -roof, and what a good time we would have together, like the old days -over again. - -He had sent my luggage up to my room, which was ready for me, and he -bade me make haste and dress for dinner. - -So saying he took me through a paneled hall, up an old oak staircase, -and showed me my room, which, hurried as I was, I observed was hung -with tapestry, and had a large four-post bed, with velvet curtains, -opposite the window. - -They had gone in to dinner when I came down, despite all the haste I -made in dressing; but a place had been kept for me next Lady Lynton. - -Besides my hosts, there were their two daughters, Colonel Lynton, a -brother of Sir Francis, the chaplain, and some others, whom I do not -remember distinctly. - -After dinner there was some music in the hall, and a game of whist in -the drawing-room, and after the ladies had gone upstairs, Lynton and I -retired to the smoking-room, where we sat up talking the better part of -the night. I think it must have been near three when I retired. Once in -bed I slept so soundly that my servant’s entrance the next morning -failed to arouse me, and it was past nine when I awoke. - -After breakfast and the disposal of the newspapers, Lynton retired to -his letters, and I asked Lady Lynton if one of her daughters might show -me the house. Elizabeth, the eldest, was summoned, and seemed in no way -to dislike the task. - -The house was, as already intimated, by no means large; it occupied -three sides of a square, the entrance and one end of the stables making -the fourth side. The interior was full of interest--passages, rooms, -galleries, as well as hall, were paneled in dark wood and hung with -pictures. I was shown everything on the ground - -[Illustration: “_Losing much time on a detestable branch line._”] - -floor, and then on the first floor. Then my guide proposed that we -should ascend a narrow, twisting staircase that led to a gallery. We did -as proposed, and entered a handsome long room or passage leading to a -small chamber at one end, in which my guide told me her father kept -books and papers. - -I asked if anyone slept in this gallery, as I noticed a bed and -fireplace, and rods by means of which curtains might be drawn, enclosing -one portion where were bed and fireplace, so as to convert it into a -very cosy chamber. - -She answered “No;” the place was not really used, except as a playroom; -though, sometimes, if the house happened to be very full--in her -great-grandfather’s time--she had heard that it had been occupied. - -By the time we had been over the house, and I had also been shown the -garden and the stables, and introduced to the dogs, it was nearly one -o’clock. We were to have an early luncheon, and to drive afterwards to -see the ruins of one of the grand old Yorkshire abbeys. - -This was a pleasant expedition, and we got back just in time for tea, -after which there was some reading aloud. The evening passed much in the -same way as the preceding one, except that Lynton, who had some -business, did not go down into the smoking-room, and I took the -opportunity of retiring early in order to write a letter for the Indian -mail, something having been said as to the prospect of hunting the next -day. - -I had finished my letter, which was a long one, together with two or -three others, and had just got into bed, when I heard a step overhead, -as of someone walking along the gallery, which I now knew ran -immediately above my room. It was a slow, heavy, measured tread which I -could hear getting gradually louder and nearer, and then as gradually -fading away, as it retreated into the distance. - -I was startled for a moment, having been told that the gallery was -unused; but the next instant it occurred to me that I had been told it -communicated with a chamber where Sir Francis kept books and papers. I -knew he had some writing to do, and I thought no more on the matter. - -I was down the next morning at breakfast in good time. “How late you -were last night,” I said to Lynton, in the middle of breakfast. “I heard -you overhead after one o’clock.” - -Lynton replied rather shortly: “Indeed you did not, for I was in bed -last night before twelve.” - -“There was someone certainly moving overhead last night,” I answered, -“for I heard his steps as distinctly as I ever heard anything in my life -going down the gallery.” - -Upon which Colonel Lynton remarked that he had often fancied he had -heard steps on the staircase, when he knew that no one was about. He was -apparently disposed to say more, when his brother interrupted him -somewhat curtly, as I fancied, and asked me if I should feel inclined -after breakfast to have a horse and go out and look for the hounds. They -met a considerable way off, but if they did not find in the coverts they -would first draw, a thing not improbable, they would come our way, and -we might fall in with them about one o’clock and have a run. I said -there was nothing I should like better. Lynton mounted me on a very nice -chestnut, and the rest of the party having gone out shooting, and the -young ladies being otherwise engaged, he and I started about eleven -o’clock for our ride. - -It was a beautiful day, soft, with a bright sun, one of those beautiful -days which so frequently occur in the early part of November. - -On reaching the hilltop where Lynton had expected to meet the hounds, no -trace of them was to be discovered. They must have found at once, and -run in a different direction. At three o’clock, after we had eaten our -sandwiches, Lynton reluctantly abandoned all hopes of falling in with -the hounds, and said we would return home by a slightly different route. - -We had not descended the hill before we came on an old chalk quarry and -the remains of a disused kiln. - -I recollected the spot at once. I had been here with Sir Francis on my -former visit, many years ago. “Why, bless me!” said I; “do you remember, -Lynton, what happened here when I was with you before? There had been -men engaged removing chalk, and they came on a skeleton under some depth -of rubble. We went together to see it removed, and you said you would -have it preserved till it could be examined by some ethnologist or -anthropologist, any one of those dry-as-dusts, to decide whether the -remains were dolichocephalous or brachycephalous--whether British, -Danish, or--modern. What was the result?” - -Sir Francis hesitated a moment, and then answered, “It is true, I had -the remains removed.” - -“Was there an inquest?” - -“No. I had been opening some of the tumuli on the Wolds. I had sent a -crouched skeleton and some skulls to the Scarsborough museum. This, I -was doubtful about--whether it was a prehistoric interment--in fact, to -what date it belonged. No one thought of an inquest.” - -On reaching the house, one of the grooms who took the horses, in answer -to a question from Lynton, said that Colonel and Mrs. Hampshire had -arrived about an hour ago, and that, one of the horses being lame, the -carriage in which they had driven over from Castle Frampton was to put -up for the night. In the drawing-room we found Lady Lynton pouring out -tea for her husband’s sister and her husband, who, as we came in, -exclaimed: “We have come to beg a night’s lodging.” - -It appeared that they had been on a visit in the neighborhood, and had -been obliged to leave at a moment’s notice in consequence of a sudden -death in the house where they were staying, and that, in the -impossibility of getting a fly, their hosts had sent them over to -Byfield. - -“We thought,” Mrs. Hampshire went on to say, “that as we were coming -here the end of next week, you would not mind having us a little sooner; -or that, if the house were quite full, you would be willing to put us up -anywhere till Monday, and let us come back later.” - -Lady Lynton interposed with the remark that it was all settled; and -then, turning to her husband, added: “But I want to speak to you for a -moment.” - -They both left the room together. - -Lynton came back almost immediately, and, making an excuse to show me, -on a map in the hall, the point to which we had ridden, said, as soon as -we were alone, with a look of considerable annoyance: “I am afraid we -must ask you to change your room. Shall you mind very much? I think we -can make you quite comfortable upstairs in the gallery, which is the -only room available. Lady Lynton has had a good fire lit; the place is -really not cold, and it will be only for a night or two. Your servant -has been told to put your things together, but Lady Lynton did not like -to give orders to have them actually moved before my speaking to you.” - -I assured him that I did not mind in the very least; that I should be -quite as comfortable upstairs; but that I did mind very much their -making such a fuss about a matter of that sort with an old friend like -myself. - -Certainly nothing could look more comfortable than my new lodging when I -went upstairs to dress. There was a bright fire in the large grate, an -arm-chair had been drawn up beside it, and all my books and writing -things had been put in, with a reading-lamp in the central position, and -the heavy tapestry curtains were drawn, converting this part of the -gallery into a room to itself. Indeed, I felt somewhat inclined to -congratulate myself on the change. The spiral staircase had been one -reason against this place having been given to the Hampshires. No lady’s -long dress trunk could have mounted it. - -Sir Francis was necessarily a good deal occupied in the evening with his -sister and her husband, whom he had not seen for some time. Colonel -Hampshire had also just heard that he was likely to be ordered to Egypt, -and when Lynton and he retired to the smoking-room, instead of going -there I went upstairs to my own room to finish a book in which I was -interested. I did not, however, sit up long, and very soon went to bed. - -Before doing so, I drew back the curtains on the rods, partly because I -like plenty of air where I sleep, and partly also because I thought I -might like to see the play of the moonlight on the floor in the portion -of the gallery beyond where I lay, and where the blinds had not been -drawn. - -I must have been asleep for some time, for the fire, which I had left in -full blaze, was gone to a few sparks wandering among the ashes, when I -suddenly awoke with the impression of having heard a latch click at the -further extremity of the gallery, where was the chamber containing books -and papers. - -I had always been a light sleeper, but on the present occasion I woke at -once to complete and acute consciousness, and with a sense of stretched -attention which seemed to intensify all my faculties. The wind had -risen, and was blowing in fitful gusts round the house. - -A minute or two passed, and I began almost to fancy I must have been -mistaken, when I distinctly heard the creak of the door, and then the -click of the latch falling back into place. Then I heard a sound on the -boards as of one moving in the gallery. I sat up to listen, and as I did -so I distinctly heard steps coming down the gallery. - -[Illustration: “_Who are you?_”] - -I heard them approach and pass my bed; I could see nothing, all was -dark; but I heard the tread proceeding toward where were the uncurtained -and unshuttered windows, two in number; but the moon shone through only -one of these, the nearest--the other was dark, shadowed by the chapel or -some other building at right angles. The tread seemed to me to pause now -and again, and then continue as before. - -I now fixed my eyes intently on the one illumined window, and it -appeared to me as if some dark body passed across it; but what? I -listened intently, and heard the step proceed to the end of the gallery, -and then return. - -I again watched the lighted window, and immediately that the sound -reached that portion of the long passage it ceased momentarily, and I -saw, as distinctly as I ever saw anything in my life, by moonlight, a -figure of a man with marked features, in what appeared to be a fur cap -drawn over the brows. - -It stood in the embrasure of the window, and the outline of the face was -in silhouette; then it moved on, and as it moved I again heard the -tread. - -I was as certain as I could be that the thing, whatever it was, or the -person, whoever he was, was approaching my bed. - -I threw myself back in the bed, and as I did see a mass of charred wood -on the hearth fell down and sent up a flash of--I fancy sparks, that -gave out a glare into the darkness, and by that--red as blood--I saw a -face near me. - -With a cry, over which I had as little control as the scream uttered by -a sleeper in the agony of a nightmare, I called, “Who are you?” - -There was an instant during which my hair bristled on my head, as in the -horror of the darkness I prepared to grapple with the being at my side; -when a board creaked as if someone had moved, and I heard the footsteps -retreat, and again the click of the latch. - -The next instant there was a rush on the stairs and Lynton burst into -the room, just as he had sprung out of bed, crying: “For God’s sake, -what is the matter? Are you ill?” - -I could not answer. Lynton struck a light and leaned over the bed. Then -I seized him by the arm, and said, without moving: “There has been -something in this room--gone in thither.” - -The words were hardly out of my mouth when Lynton, following the -direction of my eyes, had sprung to the end of the corridor and thrown -open the door there. - -He went into the room beyond, looked round it, returned, and said: “You -must have been dreaming.” - -By this time I was out of bed. - -“Look for yourself,” said he, and he led me into the little room. It was -bare, with cupboards and boxes, a sort of lumber place. “There is -nothing beyond this,” said he, “no door, no staircase. It is a blind -way.” Then he added: “Now pull on your dressing-gown and come downstairs -to my sanctum.” - -I followed him, and after he had spoken to Lady Lynton, who was standing -with the door of her room ajar in a state of great agitation, he turned -to me, and said: “No one can have been in your room. You see, my and my -wife’s apartments are close below, and no one could come up the spiral -staircase without passing my door. You must have had a nightmare. -Directly you screamed I rushed up the steps, and met no one descending; -and there is no place of concealment in the lumber-room at the end of -the gallery.” - -Then he took me into his private snuggery, blew up the fire, lighted a -lamp, and said: “I shall be really grateful if you will say nothing -about this. There are some in the house and neighborhood who are silly -enough as it is. You stay here, and if you do not feel inclined to go to -bed, read--here are books. I must go to Lady Lynton, who is a good deal -frightened, and does not like to be left alone.” - -He then went to his bedroom. - -Sleep, as far as I was concerned, was out of the question, nor do I -think Sir Francis and his wife slept much, either. - -I made up the fire, and after a time took up a book, and tried to read, -but it was useless. - -I sat absorbed in thoughts and questionings till I heard the servants -stirring in the morning. I went to my own room, left the candle burning, -and got into bed. I had just fallen asleep when my servant brought me a -cup of tea at eight o’clock. - -At breakfast Colonel Hampshire and his wife asked if anything had -happened in the night, as they had been much disturbed by noises -overhead, to which Lynton replied that I had not been very well, and had -an attack of cramp, and that he had been upstairs to look after me. From -his manner I could see that he wished me to be silent, and I said -nothing accordingly. - -In the afternoon, when everyone had gone out, Sir Francis took me into -his snuggery, and said: “Halifax, I am very sorry about that matter last -night. It is quite true, what my brother said, that steps have been -heard about this house, but I never gave heed to such things, putting -all noises down to rats. But after your experiences I feel that it is -due to you to tell you something, and also to make to you an -explanation. There is--there was--no one in the room at the end of the -corridor, except the skeleton that was discovered in the chalk-pit when -you were here many years ago. I confess I had not paid much heed to it. -My archæological fancies passed; I had no visits from anthropologists; -the bones and skull were never shown to experts, but remain packed in a -chest in that lumber-room. I confess I ought to have buried them, having -no more scientific use for them, but I did not--on my word, I forgot all -about them, or, at least, gave no heed to them. However, what you have -gone through, and have described to me, has made me uneasy, and has also -given me a suspicion that I can account for that body in a manner that -had never occurred to me before.” - -After a pause, he added: “What I am going to tell you is known to no one -else, and must not be mentioned by you--anyhow, in my lifetime. You know -now that, owing to the death of my father when quite young, I and my -brother and sister were brought up here with our grandfather, Sir -Richard. He was an old, imperious, hot-tempered man. I will tell you -what I have made out of a matter that was a mystery for long, and I will -tell you afterwards how I came to unravel it. My grandfather was in the -habit of going out at night with a young under-keeper, of whom he was -very fond, to look after the game and see if any poachers, whom he -regarded as his natural enemies, were about. - -“One night, as I suppose, my grandfather had been out with the young man -in question, and, returning by the plantations, where the hill is -steepest, and not far from the chalk-pit you - -[Illustration: “_He and the keeper buried the body._”] - -remarked on yesterday, they came upon a man who, though not actually -belonging to the country, was well known in it as a sort of traveling -tinker of indifferent character and a notorious poacher. Mind this, I am -not sure it was at the place I mention; I only now surmise it. On the -particular night in question, my grandfather and the keeper must have -caught this man setting snares; there must have been a tussle, in the -course of which, as subsequent circumstances have led me to imagine, the -man showed fight, and was knocked down by one or the other of the -two--my grandfather or the keeper. I believe that after having made -various attempts to restore him, they found that the man was actually -dead. - -“They were both in great alarm and concern--my grandfather especially. -He had been prominent in putting down some factory riots, and had given -orders to the military to fire, whereby several lives had been lost. -There was a vast outcry against him, and a certain political party had -denounced him as an assassin. No man was more vituperated; yet now, in -my conscience, I believe he acted with both discretion and pluck, and -arrested a mischievous movement that might have led to much bloodshed. -Be that as it may, my impression is that he lost his head over this -fatal affair with the tinker, and that he and the keeper together buried -the body secretly, not far from the place where he was killed. I now -think it was in the chalk-pit, and that the skeleton found years after -there belonged to this man.” - -“Good heavens!” I exclaimed, as at once my mind rushed back to the -figure with the fur cap that I had seen against the window. - -Sir Francis went on: “The sudden disappearance of the tramp, in view of -his well-known habits and wandering mode of life, did not for some time -excite surprise; but, later on, one or two circumstances having led to -suspicion, an inquiry was set on foot, and among others, my -grandfather’s keepers were examined before the magistrates. It was -remembered afterwards that the under-keeper in question was absent at -the time of the inquiry, my grandfather having sent him with some dogs -to a brother-in-law of his who lived upon the moors; but whether anyone -noticed the fact, or if they did, preferred to be silent, no -observations were made. Nothing came of the investigation, and the whole -subject would have been dropped if it had not been that two years later, -for some reasons I do not understand, but at the instigation of a -magistrate recently imported into the division, whom my grandfather -greatly disliked, and who was opposed to him in politics, a fresh -inquiry was instituted. In the course of that inquiry it transpired -that, owing to some unguarded words dropped by the under-keeper, a -warrant was about to be issued for his arrest. My grandfather, who had a -fit of the gout, was away from home at the time, but on hearing the news -he came home at once. The evening he returned he had a long interview -with the young man, who left the house after he had supped in the -servants’ hall. It was observed that he looked much depressed. The -warrant was issued the next day, but in the meantime the keeper had -disappeared. My grandfather gave orders to his people to do everything -in their power to assist the authorities in the search that was at once -set on foot, but was unable himself to take any share in it. - -“No trace of the keeper was found, although at a subsequent period -rumors circulated that he had been heard of in America. But the man -having been unmarried, he gradually dropped out of remembrance, and as -my grandfather never allowed the subject to be mentioned in his -presence, I should probably never have known anything about it but for -the vague tradition which always attaches to such events, and for this -fact, that after my grandfather’s death, a letter came addressed to him -from somewhere in the United States from some one--the name different -from that of the keeper--but alluding to the past, and implying the -presence of a common secret, and, of course, with it came a request for -money. I replied, mentioning the death of Sir Richard, and asking for -an explanation. I did get an answer, and it is from that that I am able -to fill in so much of the story. But I never learned where the man had -been killed and buried, and my next letter to the fellow was returned -with ‘deceased’ written across it. Somehow, it never occurred to me till -I heard your story that possibly the skeleton in the chalk-pit might be -that of the poaching tinker. I will now most assuredly have it buried in -the churchyard.” - -“That certainly ought to be done,” said I. - -“And,” said Sir Francis, after a pause, “I give you my word--after the -burial of the bones, and you are gone, I will sleep for a week in the -bed in the gallery, and report to you if I see or hear anything. If all -be quiet, then--well, you form your own conclusions.” - -I left a day after. Before long I got a letter from my friend, brief, -but to the point: “All quiet, old boy; come again.” - - - - -THE GHOST OF THE COUNT. - - -Not far from the Alameda, in the City of Mexico, there is a great old -stone building, in which once lived a very wealthy and wicked Spanish -count. The house has about four floors, and ninety rooms, more or less. -The entire fourth floor is rented and occupied by a big American firm, -and their bookkeeper, an American girl, has given us the following true -account of the ghost that for years haunted the building. The second -floor is unoccupied, as no one cares to live there for obvious reasons. -And the bottom floor is also unoccupied, save for lumber rooms, empty -boxes and crates and barrels. And last of all is the great patio with -its tiled floor, where secretly in the night a duel was fought to the -death by the wicked count and a famous Austrian prince, who was one of -Maximilian’s men. The count was killed. - -No one knows why the duel was fought; some say it was because of a -beautiful Spanish woman; some say that it was because of treasure that -the two jointly “conveyed,” and which the count refused to divide with -his princely “socio,” and more people--Mexicans--shrug their shoulders -if you ask about it, and say, “Quien sabe?” - -“I saw a ghost here last night, Miss James,” announces our cashier with -much eclat and evident pride. - -So great is the shock that I gasp, and my pen drops, spattering red ink -on my nice fresh cuffs, and (worse luck!) on the ledger page that I had -just totted up. It is ruined, and I will have to erase it, -or--something! Wretched man! - -“I wish to goodness it had taken you off,” I cry, wrathfully, as I look -at the bespattered work. “Now will you just look here and see what you -have done? I wish you and your ghosts were in----” - -“Gehenna?” he inquires, sweetly; “I’ll fix that--it won’t take half a -minute. And don’t look so stern, else I won’t tell you about the -‘espanto.’ And you will be sorry if you don’t hear about it--it would -make such a good story.” (Insinuatingly.) - -“Then go ahead with it.” (Ungraciously.) - -“Well, last night I was waiting for West. He was to meet me here, after -which it was our intention to hit the--that is, I mean we were going out -together. (I nod scornfully.) And it seems that while I was patiently -waiting here, in my usual sweet-tempered way, the blank idiot had his -supper and then lay down to rest himself for a while. You know how -delicate he is? (Another contemptuous nod.) Unfortunately he forgot the -engagement, and slept on. He says he never awoke until three o’clock, -and so didn’t come, thinking I wouldn’t be there. Meantime I also went -to sleep, and might have snoozed on until three, likewise, but for the -fact that the ghost woke me----” - -“Well? Do go on,” I urge. - -“The ghost woke me, as I said,” proceeds the simpleton, slowly. “It was -passing its cold fingers over my face and groaning. Really, it was most -extraordinary. At first I didn’t know what it was; then, as I felt the -icy fingers stroking my face and heard blood-curdling groans issuing -from the darkness, I knew what it was. And I remembered the story of the -prince and his little duel down in the patio, and knew it was the ghost -of the prince’s victim. By the way, you don’t know what a funny -sensation it is to have a ghost pat your face, Miss James----” - -“Pat nothing,” I retort, indignantly. “I wonder you are not ashamed to -tell me such fibs. Such a ta-ra-diddle! And as for the man that the -prince killed downstairs, you know as well as I do that he was taken -home to Spain and buried there. Why, then, should he come back here, -into our offices, and pat your face?” - -“Ah, that I can’t say,” with a supercilious drawl. “I can only account -for it by thinking that the ghost has good taste--better than that of -some people I know,” meaningly. “But honestly, I swear that I am telling -you the truth--cross my heart and hope to die if I am not! And you -don’t know how brave I was--I never screamed; in fact, I never made a -sound; oh, I was brave!” - -“Then what did you do?” sternly. - -“I ran. Por Dios, how I ran! You remember with what alacrity we got down -the stairs during the November earthquake? (I remember only too -distinctly.) Well, last night’s run wasn’t a run, in comparison--it was -a disappearance, a flight, a sprint! I went down the four flights of -stairs like a streak of blue lightning, and the ghost flew with me. I -heard the pattering of its steps and its groans clean down to the patio -door, and I assure you I quite thought I had made such an impression -that it was actually going on home with me. And the thought made me feel -so weak that I felt perforce obliged to take a--have a--that is, -strengthen myself with a cocktail. After which I felt stronger and went -home quite peacefully. But it was an uncanny experience, wasn’t it?” - -“Was it before or after taking that cocktail?” I ask, incredulously. -“And did you take one only or eleven?” - -I am hard on the man, but he really deserves it. Ghosts! Spirits, -perhaps, but not ghosts. Whereat his feelings are quite “hurted”--so -much so that he vows he will never tell me anything again; I had better -read about Doubting Thomas; he never has seen such an unbelieving woman -in all his life, and if I were only a man he would be tempted to pray -that I might see the ghost; it would serve me right. Then, wrathfully -departs, to notice me no more that day. - -Not believing the least bit in ghosts I gave the matter no more thought. -In fact, when you fall heir to a set of books that haven’t been posted -for nineteen days, and you have to do it all, and get up your trial -balance, too, or else give up your Christmas holidays, you haven’t much -time to think about ghosts, or anything else, except entries. And though -I had been working fourteen hours per day, the 24th of December, noon -hour, found me with a difference of $13.89. The which I, of course, must -locate and straighten out before departing next morning on my week’s -holiday. Por supuesto, it meant night work. Nothing else would do; and -besides, our plans had all been made to leave on the eight o’clock train -next morning. So I would just sit up all night, if need be, and find the -wretched balance and be done with it. - -Behold me settled for work that night at seven o’clock in my own office, -with three lamps burning to keep it from looking dismal and lonely, and -books and ledgers and journals piled up two feet high around me. If hard -work would locate that nasty, hateful $13.89 it would surely be found. I -had told the portero downstairs on the ground floor to try and keep -awake for a time, but if I didn’t soon finish the work I would come down -and call him when I was ready to go home. - -He lived in a little room, all shut off from the rest of the building, -so that it was rather difficult to get at him. Besides, he was the very -laziest and sleepiest peon possible, and though he was supposed to take -care of the big building at night, patrolling it so as to keep off -ladrones, he in reality slept so soundly that the last trumpet, much -less Mexican robbers, would not have roused him. - -And for this very reason, before settling to my work I was careful to go -around and look to locks and bolts myself; everything was secure, and -the doors safely fastened. So that if ladrones did break through they -would have to be in shape to pass through keyholes or possess false -keys. - -With never a thought of spirits or porteros, or anything else, beyond -the thirteen dollars and eighty-nine cents, I worked and added and -re-added and footed up. And at eleven o’clock, grazia a Dios, I had the -thirteen dollars all safe, and would have whooped for joy, had I the -time. However, I wasn’t out of the woods yet, the sum of eighty-nine -dollars being often more easy of location than eighty-nine cents. The -latter must be found, also, before I could have the pleasure of shouting -in celebration thereof. - -At it I went again. After brain cudgeling and more adding and prayerful -thought I at last had under my thumb that abominable eighty cents. -Eureka! Only nine cents out. I could get it all straight and have some -sleep, after all! Inspired by which thought I smothered my yawns and -again began to add. I looked at my watch--ten minutes to twelve. Perhaps -I could get it fixed before one. - -I suppose I had worked at the nine cents for about twenty minutes. One -of the cash entries looked to me to be in error. I compared it with the -voucher--yes, that was just where the trouble lay! Eleven -cents--ten--nine---- - -S-t-t! Out went the lights in the twinkling of an eye--as I sat, gaping -in my astonishment, from out of the pitchy darkness of the room came the -most dreary, horrible, blood-curdling groan imaginable. As I sat -paralyzed, not daring to breathe, doubting my senses for a moment, and -then thinking indignantly that it was some trick of that wretched -cashier, I felt long, thin, icy fingers passing gently over my face. -Malgame Dios! what a sensation! At first I was afraid to move. Then I -nervously tried to brush the icy, bony things away. As fast as I -brushed, with my heart beating like a steam-hammer, and gasping with -deadly fear, the fingers would come back again; a cold wind was blowing -over me. Again came that dreadful groan, and too frightened to move or -scream, I tumbled in a heap on the floor, among the books and ledgers. -Then I suppose I fainted. - -When I regained my senses I was still in a heap with the ledgers; still -it was dark and still I felt the cold fingers caressing my face. At -which I became thoroughly desperate. No ghost should own me! I had -laughed at the poor cashier and hinted darkly at cocktails. Pray, what -better was I? - -I scrambled to my feet, the fingers still stroking my face. I must -address them--what language--did they understand English or Spanish, I -wondered? Spanish would doubtless be most suitable, if indeed, it was -the ghost of the murdered count----. - -“Will you do me the favor, Senor Ghost,” I started out bravely, in my -best Spanish, but with a very trembling voice, “to inform me what it is -that you desire? Is there anything I can do for you? Because, if not, I -would like very much to be allowed to finish my work, which I cannot do -(if you will pardon my abruptness) if I am not alone.” - -(Being the ghost of a gentleman and a diplomat, surely he would take the -hint and vanish. Ojala!) - -Perhaps the ghost did not understand my Spanish; at any rate there was -no articulate reply; there was another groan--again the fingers touched -me, and then there was such a mournful sigh that I felt sorry for the -poor thing--what could be the matter with it? With my pity, all fear was -lost for a moment, and I said to the darkness all about me: - -“What is it that you wish, pobre senor? Can I not aid you? I am not -afraid--let me help you!” - -The fingers moved uncertainly for a moment; then the ledgers all fell -down, with a loud bang; a cold hand caught mine, very gently--I tried -not to feel frightened, but it was difficult--and I was led off blindly, -through the offices. I could not see a thing--not a glimmer of light -showed; not a sound was heard except my own footsteps, and the faint -sound of the invisible something that was leading me along--there were -no more groans, thank goodness, else I should have shrieked and fainted, -without a doubt. Only the pattering footsteps and the cold hand that led -me on and on. - -We--the fingers and I--were somehow in the great hall, then on the -second floor, and at last on the stairs, going on down, flight after -flight. Then I knew that I was being led about by the fingers on the -tiled floor of the patio, and close to the portero’s lodge. Simpleton -that he was! Sleeping like a log, no doubt, while I was being led about -in the black darkness by an invisible hand, and no one to save me! I -would have yelled, of course, but for one fact--I found it utterly -impossible to speak or move my tongue, being a rare and uncomfortable -sensation. - -But where were we going? Back into the unused lumber rooms, joining onto -the patio? Nothing there, except barrels and slabs and empty boxes. What -could the ghost mean? He must be utterly demented, surely. - -In the middle of the first room we paused. I had an idea of rushing out -and screaming for the portero, but abandoned it when I found that my -feet wouldn’t go. I heard steps passing to and fro about the floor, and -waited, cold and trembling. They approached me; again my hand was taken, -and I was led over near the corner of the room. Obedient to the unseen -will, I bent down and groped about the floor, guided by the cold fingers -holding mine, until I felt something like a tiny ring, set firmly in the -floor. I pulled at it faintly, but it did not move, at which the ghost -gave a faint sigh. For a second the cold fingers pressed mine, quite -affectionately, then released me, and I heard steps passing slowly into -the patio, then dying away. Where was it going, and what on earth did it -all mean? - -But I was so tired and wrought up I tried to find the door, but couldn’t -(the cashier would have been revenged could he have seen me stupidly -fumbling at a barrel, thinking it was the door), and at last, too -fatigued and sleepy to stand, I dropped down on the cold stone floor -and went to sleep. - -I must have slept for some hours, for when I awoke the light of dawn was -coming in at the window, and I sat up and wondered if I had taken leave -of my senses during the night. What on earth could I be doing here in -the lumber-room? Then, like a flash, I remembered, and, half -unconsciously, crept about on the floor seeking the small ring. There it -was! I caught it and jerked at it hard. Hey, presto, change! For it -seemed to me that the entire floor was giving way. There was a sliding, -crashing sound, and I found myself hanging on for dear life to a barrel -that, fortunately, retained its equilibrium, and with my feet dangling -into space. Down below me was a small, stone-floored room, with big -boxes and small ones ranged about the walls. Treasure! Like a flash the -thought struck me, and with one leap I was down in the secret room -gazing about at the boxes. - -But, alas! upon investigation, the biggest chests proved empty. The bad, -wicked count! No wonder he couldn’t rest in his Spanish grave, but must -come back to the scene of his wickedness and deceit to make reparation! -But the smaller chests were literally crammed with all sorts of -things--big heavy Spanish coins, in gold and silver--gold and silver -dinner services, with the crest of the unfortunate emperor; magnificent -pieces of jeweled armor and weapons, beautiful jewelry and loose -precious stones. I deliberately selected handfuls of the latter, giving -my preference to the diamonds and pearls--I had always had a taste for -them, which I had never before been able to gratify!--and packed them in -a wooden box that I found in the lumber-room. The gold and dinner -services and armor, etc., I left as they were, being rather cumbersome, -and carried off, rejoicing, my big box of diamonds and pearls and other -jewelry. - -Needless to say we didn’t go away for the holidays on the eight o’clock -train. But I did come down to the office and proceeded to locate my -missing nine cents. After which I unfolded the tale of the ghost and the -treasure--only keeping quiet the matter of my private loot. Of which I -was heartily glad afterwards. For when the government learned of the -find what do you suppose they offered me for going about with the ghost -and discovering the secret room and treasure? Ten thousand dollars! When -I refused, stating that I would take merely, as my reward, one of the -gold dinner services, the greedy things objected at first, but I finally -had my way. And to this very day they have no idea that I--even I--have -all the beautiful jewels. Wouldn’t they be furious if they knew it? But -they aren’t apt to, unless they learn English and read this story. Which -isn’t likely. - - - - -THE OLD MANSION. - - -Down on Long Beach, that narrow strip of sand which stretches along the -New Jersey coast from Barnegat Inlet on the north to Little Egg Harbor -Inlet on the south, the summer sojourner at some one of the numerous -resorts, which of late years have sprung up every few miles, may, in -wandering over the sand dunes just across the bay from the village of -Manahawkin, stumble over some charred timbers or vestiges of crumbling -chimneys, showing that once, years back, a human habitation has stood -there. If the find rouses the jaded curiosity of the visitor -sufficiently to impel him to question the weatherbeaten old bayman who -sails him on his fishing trips he will learn that these relics mark the -site of one of the first summer hotels erected on the New Jersey coast. - -“That’s where the Old Mansion stood,” he will be informed by Captain -Nate or Captain Sam, or whatever particular captain it may chance to be, -and if by good fortune it chances to be Captain Jim, he will hear a -story that will pleasantly pass away the long wait for a sheepshead -bite. - -It was my good luck to have secured Captain Jim for a preceptor in the -angler’s art during my vacation last summer, and his stories and -reminiscences of Long Beach were not the least enjoyable features of the -two weeks’ sojourn. - -Captain Jim was not garrulous. Few of the baymen are. They are a sturdy, -self-reliant and self-controlled people, full of strong common sense, -but still with that firm belief in the supernatural which seems inherent -in dwellers by the sea. - -“The Old Mansion,” said Captain Jim, “or the Mansion of Health, for that -was its full name, was built away back in 1822, so I’ve heard my father -say. There had been a tavern close by years before that was kept by a -man named Cranmer, and people used to come from Philadelphia by stage, -sixty miles through the pines, to ‘Hawkin, and then cross here by boat. -Some would stop at Cranmer’s and others went on down the beach to -Homer’s which was clear down at End by the Inlet. Finally some of the -wealthy people concluded that they wanted better accommodations than -Cranmer gave, so they formed the Great Swamp Long Beach Company, and -built the Mansion of Health. I’ve heard that when it was built it was -the biggest hotel on the coast, and was considered a wonder. It was 120 -feet long, three stories high, and had a porch running all the way -around it, with a balcony on top. It was certainly a big thing for -those days. I’ve heard father tell many a time of the stage loads of gay -people that used to come rattling into ‘Hawkin, each stage drawn by four -horses, and sometimes four or five of them a day in the summer. A good -many people, too, used to come in their own carriages, and leave them -over on the mainland until they were ready to go home. There were gay -times at the Old Mansion then, and it made times good for the people -along shore, too.” - -“How long did the Old Mansion flourish, Captain?” I asked. - -“Well, for twenty-five or thirty years people came there summer after -summer. Then they built a railroad to Cape May, and that, with the -ghosts, settled the Mansion of Health.” - -“What do you mean by the ghosts?” I demanded. - -“Well, you see,” said Captain Jim, cutting off a mouthful of navy plug, -“the story got around that the old house was haunted. Some people said -there were queer things seen there, and strange noises were heard that -nobody could account for, and pretty soon the place got a bad name and -visitors were so few that it didn’t pay to keep it open any more.” - -“But how did it get the name of being haunted, Captain Jim?” I -persisted. - -“Why, it was this way,” continued the mariner. “Maybe you’ve heard of -the time early in the fifties when the Powhatan was wrecked on the beach -here, and every soul on board was lost. She was an emigrant ship, and -there were over 400 people aboard--passengers and crew. She came ashore -here during the equinoctial storm in September. There wasn’t any -life-saving stations in them days, and everyone was drowned. You can see -the long graves now over in the ‘Hawkin churchyard, where the bodies -were buried after they came ashore. They put them in three long trenches -that were dug from one end of the burying-ground to the other. The only -people on the beach that night was the man who took care of the old -mansion. He lived there with his family, and his son-in-law lived with -him. He was the wreckmaster for this part of the coast, too. It wasn’t -till the second day that the people from ‘Hawkin could get over to the -beach, and by that time the bodies had all come ashore, and the -wreckmaster had them all piled up on the sand. I was a youngster, then, -and came over with my father, and, I tell you, it was the awfullest -sight I ever saw--them long rows of drowned people, all lying there with -their white, still faces turned up to the sky. Some were women, with -their dead babies clasped tight in their arms, and some were husbands -and wives, whose bodies came ashore locked together in a death embrace. -I’ll never forget that sight as long as I live. Well, when the coroner -came and took charge he began to inquire whether any money or valuables -had been found, but the wreckmaster declared that not a solitary coin -had been washed ashore. People thought this was rather singular, as the -emigrants were, most of them, well-to-do Germans, and were known to have -brought a good deal of money with them, but it was concluded that it had -gone down with the ship. Well, the poor emigrants were given pauper -burial, and the people had begun to forget their suspicions until three -or four months later there came another storm, and the sea broke clear -over the beach, just below the Old Mansion, and washed away the sand. -Next morning early two men from ‘Hawkin sailed across the bay and landed -on the beach. They walked across on the hard bottom where the sea had -washed across, and, when about half way from the bay, one of the men saw -something curious close up against the stump of an old cedar tree. He -called the other man’s attention to it, and they went over to the stump. -What they found was a pile of leather money-belts that would have filled -a wheelbarrow. Every one was cut open and empty. They had been buried in -the sand close by the old stump, and the sea had washed away the -covering. The men didn’t go any further. - -“They carried the belts to their boats and sailed back to ‘Hawkin as -fast as the wind would take them. Of course, it made a big sensation, -and everybody was satisfied that the wreckmaster had robbed the bodies, -if he hadn’t done anything worse, but there was no way to prove it, and -so nothing was done. The wreckmaster didn’t stay around here long after -that, though. The people made it too hot for him, and he and his family -went away South, where it was said he bought a big plantation and a lot -of slaves. Years afterward the story came to ‘Hawkin somehow that he was -killed in a barroom brawl, and that his son-in-law was drowned by his -boat upsettin’ while he was out fishin’. I don’t furnish any affidavits -with that part of the story, though. - -“However, after that nobody lived in the Old Mansion for long at a time. -People would go there, stay a week or two, and leave--and at last it was -given up entirely to beach parties in the day time, and ghosts at -night.” - -“But, Captain, you don’t really believe the ghost part, do you?” I -asked. - -Captain Jim looked down the bay, expectorated gravely over the side of -the boat, and answered, slowly: - -“Well, I don’t know as I would have believed in ’em if I hadn’t seen the -ghost.” - -“What!” I exclaimed; “you saw it? Tell me about it. I’ve always wanted -to see a ghost, or next best thing, a man who has seen one.” - -“It was one August, about 1861,” said the captain. “I was a young -feller then, and with a half dozen more was over on the beach cutting -salt hay. We didn’t go home at nights, but did our own cooking in the -Old Mansion kitchen, and at nights slept on piles of hay upstairs. We -were a reckless lot of scamps, and reckoned that no ghosts could scare -us. There was a big full moon that night, and it was as light as day. -The muskeeters was pretty bad, too, and it was easier to stay awake than -go to sleep. Along toward midnight me and two other fellers went out on -the old balcony, and began to race around the house. We hollered and -yelled, and chased each other for half an hour or so, and then we -concluded we had better go to sleep, so we started for the window of the -room where the rest were. This window was near one end on the ocean -side, and as I came around the corner I stopped as if I had been shot, -and my hair raised straight up on top of my head. Right there in front -of that window stood a woman looking out over the sea, and in her arms -she held a little child. I saw her as plain as I see you now. It seemed -to me like an hour she stood there, but I don’t suppose it was a second; -then she was gone. When I could move I looked around for the other boys, -and they were standing there paralyzed. They had seen the woman, too. We -didn’t say much, and we didn’t sleep much that night, and the next night -we bunked out on the beach. The rest of the crowd made all manner of -fun of us, but we had had all the ghost we wanted, and I never set foot -inside the old house after that.” - -“When did it burn down, Captain?” I asked, as Jim relapsed into silence. - -“Somewhere about twenty-five years ago. A beach party had been roasting -clams in the old oven, and in some way the fire got to the woodwork. It -was as dry as tinder, and I hope the ghosts were all burnt up with it.” - - - - -A MISFIT GHOST. - - -Every boy with a knowledge of adventurous literature, otherwise “novels -of action,” knows of the “phantom ship,” the spook of the high seas. - -But it has not been known that ships themselves are haunted, and that in -the service of the United States Coast Survey there is a vessel now in -commission that is by her own officers supposed to be haunted. - -Yet the Eagre, a 140-foot schooner of the coast survey, is looked upon -in the service as a very undesirable vessel to be aboard of. About her -there is an atmosphere of gloom that wardroom jest cannot dispel. - -Duty on board her has been shunned as would be a pestilence, and stories -have been told by officers who have cruised aboard her that are not good -for timid people to hear. Officers have hesitated about telling these -uncanny stories, but they have become sufficiently well known to make a -billet to duty aboard the Eagre unwelcome among the coast survey men. - -The Mohawk was launched June 10, 1875, at Greenpoint, and she was then -the largest sailing yacht afloat. - -William T. Garner, her young millionaire owner, was very proud of his -new craft, and all the then leaders of New York society were invited to -participate in the good time afloat with which her launching was -celebrated. Commodore Garner, then but thirty-three years old, and his -young wife entertained charmingly, and the trim, speedy Mohawk was -christened with unusually merry festivities. Soon after that she was -capsized by a sudden squall off the landing at Stapleton, N. Y., and six -people were drowned like rats in her cabin and forecastle. - -Then the Mohawk was raised at a cost of $25,000 and purchased by the -United States Government for the service of the coast survey. Her name -was changed to Eagre, for Jack Tar is proverbially superstitious, and -with the old name it would have been impossible to ship a crew. - -Lieutenant Higby King describes his initial experience when he was -assigned to duty on the Eagre in this way: - -“She had her full complement of officers minus one when I boarded her at -Newport to complete the list. Every cabin was occupied but the port -cabin by the companion way, and to that I was assigned. - -“We had a jolly wardroom mess that night, and I retired from it early, -as I was tired by my journey to join the vessel. The others who were -still at the table regarded my retirement to the port cabin in absolute -silence, having bidden me good-night. Their silence did not lead me to -suspect anything, though I knew that the Eagre had once been the Mohawk. -My cabin door had the usual cabin lock of brass, and the porthole was -also securely fastened. There could have been no one under the bed or -sofa, as beneath each was a facing of solid oak paneling. - -“I undressed lazily and left the light burning dimly in my bracket lamp. -I tried conscientiously to go to sleep for I don’t know how long with my -back turned to the light. The noise ceased in the wardroom after a time, -and I knew the others had turned in, but I felt unaccountably nervous -and restless. I turned over and faced the light, thoroughly wide awake, -and there in the single chair sat an elderly man, seemingly wrapt in -deep thought. He was dressed in a blue yachting reefer, and had a long, -gray beard. His hands were clasped in his lap, and his eyes were -downcast. His face was not pale and ghastly, as the faces of ghosts are -popularly supposed to be, but ruddy and weatherbeaten. - -“I regarded him in scared silence for I don’t know how long, though it -seemed an hour when he, or it, or whatever it was, disappeared. During -that time the ghost, and such I now believe it to have been, made not a -motion, nor did it say anything. Presently I looked again, and it was -gone. - -“At breakfast the others watched me critically as I took my seat. I had -not intended to say anything about my experience, for I thought then I -had seen some sort of hallucination and strongly suspected that I was -verging on insanity. Lieutenant Irving asked me if I had slept well. I -replied that I had. ‘Didn’t you see anything?’ he inquired. I then -frankly admitted that I had and described my experience. Then I learned -that each one of the seven others present had tried the port cabin at -one time or another, and each had seen the self-same apparition. It had -acted in exactly the same way in each case, except in the case of -Irving, who shot at it with his pistol, when it immediately disappeared. -Some of the others had been led by their curiosity to inquire if anyone -lost on the Mohawk resembled the figure, and found that none of the -unfortunate ones at all fitted the description. It had been dubbed by -them the ‘misfit ghost.’ That one experience was enough for me, and -after that I, by courtesy, shared the cabin of another fellow.” - -Lieutenant Irving and others corroborate the story of Lieutenant King, -and as additional evidence that the Eagre is haunted, Lieutenant Irving -describes a New Year’s eve experience of the Eagre’s officers, that is, -to say the least, novel in the way of supernatural manifestations. - -“It was at mess. The first toast, ‘Sweethearts and Wives,’ had been -drunk, as it always is by Yankee sailors the world over on occasions of -festivity. Everyone was feeling happy, or, as Thackeray has it, -‘pleasant,’ when suddenly the sliding-doors separating the wardroom from -the companion way closed slowly with a loud, squeaking noise. They had -seldom been closed, and it took the entire strength of a man to start -them from their rusty fastenings. Yet upon this occasion they started -easily and closed tightly, while the officers jumped to their feet in -breathless astonishment. Half a dozen men hauled them open in haste, but -not a soul was behind them or anywhere about. ‘It must be our old friend -of the port cabin,’ suggested one, and in awe-stricken silence the -health of the ‘misfit ghost’ was drunk.” - - - - -AN UNBIDDEN GUEST. - - -My cousins, Kate and Tom Howard, married at Trinity, at Easter time, -concluded to commence housekeeping by taking one of those delightfully -expensively furnished, unfurnished cottages, with which the fashionable -watering place of W---- abounds, from whose rear windows one might -almost take a plunge into the surf, the beach beginning at the back -door. They went down quite early in May, being in a great hurry to try -their domestic experiment; and, as the evenings were still cold, they -spent them about the open fire, “spooning.” - -It was upon one of those nights, about eleven o’clock, that they were -startled by a noise, as of some small object falling, soon followed by -the sound of heavy footsteps, and then quiet again reigned supreme. At -once Tom, poker in hand, boldly started in search of the burglar, -followed by Kate, wildly clutching at his coat-tail, and in a state of -tremor. They looked upstairs, under the various beds, Kate suggesting -that in novels they were always to be found there. - -The dining-room was next explored, where all seemed well, and, lastly -the kitchen, where they found what was evidently a solution of the -mystery. The burglar had entered by the back door, which was found to be -unlocked and slightly ajar. The first excitement subsiding, they -returned again to the dining-room, where Tom, upon closer inspection, -then discovered that one of a pair of quaint little pepper-pots, wedding -gifts, was missing, and other small articles on the sideboard had been -slightly disturbed. - -The next morning, when Kate mildly remonstrated with the queen of the -kitchen for her carelessness, she received a shock by being told that it -was her usual custom to leave the door open, “so that it would be aisy, -convanient loike for the milkmaid.” They parted with her, and a new maid -was engaged, whose chief qualification for the place was that she was -most faithful in the discharge of her duties, especially in “locking -up.” - -While they mourned the loss of the pepper-pot, still it seemed so -trifling when they thought of that lovely repousse salad bowl, sent by -Aunt Julia, which stood near by, that nothing was said of the loss -outside of the family, and the little household settled into its normal -state once more of “billing and cooing.” - -About a fortnight later, Tom started out one night with an old -fisherman, one of the natives, and a local “character,” to indulge in -that delightful pastime, so dear to the heart of man, known as -“eeling,” and, as the night was dark, the eels were particularly -“sporty,” so that it was well on towards the “wee sma’ hours” when Tom -at last returned to the cottage. - -He found all excitement within. Kate was in hysterics, and the new maid, -also weeping, was industriously applying the camphor bottle to her -mistress’ nose. The burglar, or ghost, as they had now decided, the -windows and doors being found to be securely locked this time, had been -abroad again, but had succeeded in purloining nothing. His royal -ghostship had amused himself, apparently, by simply walking about. - -“Oh, Tom! he had on such heavy boots and was so dreadfully bold about -it,” said Kate, tearfully. - -From that time Kate became nervous and refused to be left alone. Tom -started whenever a door creaked, and the “treasure” departed hurriedly, -saying, “Faith, the house is haunted, sure.” - -After that Kate spent her days in “girl hunting,” and her nights in -answering shadowy advertisements that never materialized. They tried -Irish, English, Dutch, and a “heathen Chinee,” with a sprinkling of -“colored ladies” to vary the monotony. They seemed about to become -famous throughout the length and breadth of the land as “the family -that changes help once a week,” when they landed Treasure No. 2. - -Shortly after her advent we were all asked down to W----, to help -celebrate their happiness, and incidentally to christen the new dinner -set. We were not a little surprised at finding Kate so pale and Tom -rather distrait. However, after a delightful dinner, that should have -filled with pleasure the most exacting bride, we adjourned to the -piazza, leaving the men to the contemplation of their cigars. We were -enthusiastic in our praise of the house, and congratulated Kate in -securing such a prize, when, to our horror, she burst into tears, and -said: “Oh, girls, it’s a dreadful place; it’s haunted!” and then -tearfully proceeded with the details, until we all felt creepy and -suggested the parlor and lights. - -It was not until long afterwards that Kate discovered that Tom had also -related the “ghost story” to the men, that evening, to which Ned Harris -had said, laconically, “Rats,” and Bob Shaw laughingly remarked, “Tom, -old chap, you really shouldn’t take your nightcap so strong.” - -About the first of July the climax came. The ghost walked again, this -time taking not only the remaining pepper-pot, but also a silver -salt-cellar. Evidently he had a penchant for small articles, but unlike -former times, everything on the sideboard was in the greatest disorder. -Aunt Julia’s salad bowl was found on the floor, and not far away the -cheese-dish, with its contents scattered about. This time one of the -windows was found half open. A week later a note came to me from Kate, -saying that she and Tom had gone to Saratoga to spend the remainder of -the season with her mother. - -The following spring Tom received a note and parcel from Mr. B----, the -owner of the house at W----, which read as follows: - - DEAR MR. HOWARD: I send you by express three articles of silver, - which my wife suggests may belong to you, as they are marked with - your initials, namely, two silver pepper-pots and a salt-cellar; - they were found, the other day, during the process of spring house - cleaning, in a rat hole, behind the sideboard. I forgot to have the - holes stopped up last spring, or to caution you against the water - rats; the great fellows will get in, you know. Kind regards to Mrs. - Howard. - -Very truly, - -JOHN B----. - - - - -The next season the “Ghost Club” was organized, the badge being a small -silver rat, bearing proudly aloft a tiny pepper-pot. We thoughtfully -offered Tom the presidency, but he declined, with offended dignity, from -the effects of which I think he will never fully recover. - - - - -THE DEAD WOMAN’S PHOTOGRAPH. - - -Virgil Hoyt is a photographer’s assistant up at St. Paul, and a man of a -good deal of taste. He has been in search of the picturesque all over -the West, and hundreds of miles to the north in Canada, and can speak -three or four Indian dialects, and put a canoe through the rapids. That -is to say, he is a man of an adventurous sort and no dreamer. He can -fight well and shoot well and swim well enough to put up a winning race -with the Indian boys, and he can sit all day in the saddle and not dream -about it at night. - -Wherever he goes he uses his camera. - -“The world,” Hoyt is in the habit of saying to those who sit with him -when he smokes his pipe, “was created in six days to be photographed. -Man--and especially woman--was made for the same purpose. Clouds are not -made to give moisture, nor trees to cast shade. They were created for -the photographer.” - -In short, Virgil Hoyt’s view of the world is whimsical, and he doesn’t -like to be bothered with anything disagreeable. That is the reason that -he loathes and detests going to a house of mourning to photograph a -corpse. The horribly bad taste of it offends him partly, and partly he -is annoyed at having to shoulder, even for a few moments, a part of -someone’s burden of sorrow. He doesn’t like sorrow, and would willingly -canoe 500 miles up the cold Canadian rivers to get rid of it. -Nevertheless, as assistant photographer, it is often his duty to do this -very kind of thing. - -Not long ago he was sent for by a rich Jewish family at St. Paul to -photograph the mother, who had just died. He was very much put out, but -he went. He was taken to the front parlor, where the dead woman lay in -her coffin. It was evident that there was some excitement in the -household and that a discussion was going on, but Hoyt wasn’t concerned, -and so he paid no attention to the matter. - -The daughter wanted the coffin turned on end, in order that the corpse -might face the camera properly, but Hoyt said he could overcome the -recumbent attitude and make it appear that the face was taken in the -position it would naturally hold in life, and so they went out and left -him alone with the dead. - -The face was a strong and positive one, such as may often be seen among -Jewish matrons. Hoyt regarded it with some admiration, thinking to -himself that she was a woman who had been used to having her own way. -There was a strand of hair out of place, and he pushed it back from her -brow. A bud lifted its head too high from among the roses on her breast -and spoiled the contour of the chin, so he broke it off. He remembered -these things later very distinctly and that his hand touched her bare -face two or three times. - -Then he took the photographs and left the house. - -He was very busy at the time and several days elapsed before he was able -to develop the plates. He took them from the bath, in which they had -lain with a number of others, and went to work upon them. There were -three plates, he having taken that number merely as a precaution against -any accident. They came up well, but as they developed he became aware -of the existence of something in the photograph which had not been -apparent to his eye. The mysterious always came under the head of the -disagreeable with him, and was therefore to be banished, so he made only -a few prints and put the things away out of sight. He hoped that -something would intervene to save him from attempting an explanation. - -But it is a part of the general perplexity of life that things do not -intervene as they ought and when they ought, so one day his employer -asked him what had become of those photographs. He - -[Illustration: “_They left him alone with the dead._”] - -tried to evade him, but it was futile, and he got out the finished -photographs and showed them to him. The older man sat staring at them a -long time. - -“Hoyt,” said he, at length, “you’re a young man, and I suppose you have -never seen anything like this before. But I have. Not exactly the same -thing, but similar phenomena have come my way a number of times since I -went into the business, and I want to tell you there are things in -heaven and earth not dreamt of----” - -“Oh, I know all that tommy-rot,” cried Hoyt, angrily, “but when anything -happens I want to know the reason why, and how it is done.” - -“All right,” said his employer, “then you might explain why and how the -sun rises.” - -But he humored the younger man sufficiently to examine with him the bath -in which the plates were submerged and the plates themselves. All was as -it should be. But the mystery was there and could not be done away with. - -Hoyt hoped against hope that the friends of the dead woman would somehow -forget about the photographs, but of course the wish was unreasonable, -and one day the daughter appeared and asked to see the photographs of -her mother. - -“Well, to tell the truth,” stammered Hoyt, “those didn’t come out as -well as we could wish.” - -“But let me see them,” persisted the lady. “I’d like to look at them, -anyway.” - -[Illustration: “_He showed her the prints._”] - -“Well, now,” said Hoyt, trying to be soothing, as he believed it was -always best to be with women--to tell the truth, he was an ignoramus -where women were concerned--“I think it would be better if you didn’t -see them. There are reasons why----” he ambled on like this, stupid man -that he was, and of course the Jewess said she would see those pictures -without any further delay. - -So poor Hoyt brought them out and placed them in her hand, and then ran -for the water pitcher, and had to be at the bother of bathing her -forehead to keep her from fainting. - -For what the lady saw was this: Over face and flowers and the head of -the coffin fell a thick veil, the edges of which touched the floor in -some places. It covered the features so well that not a hint of them was -visible. - -“There was nothing over mother’s face,” cried the lady at length. - -“Not a thing,” acquiesced Hoyt. “I know, because I had occasion to touch -her face just before I took the picture. I put some of her hair back -from her brow.” - -“What does it mean, then?” asked the lady. - -“You know better than I. There is no explanation in science. Perhaps -there is some in psychology.” - -“Well,” said the lady, stammering a little and coloring, “mother was a -good woman, but she always wanted her own way, and she always had it, -too.” - -“Yes?” - -“And she never would have her picture taken. She didn’t admire herself. -She said no one should ever see a picture of hers.” - -“So?” said Hoyt, meditatively. “Well, she’s kept her word, hasn’t she?” - -The two stood looking at the pictures for a time. Then Hoyt pointed to -the open blaze in the grate. - -“Throw them in,” he commanded. “Don’t let your father see them--don’t -keep them yourself. They wouldn’t be good things to keep.” - -“That’s true enough,” said the lady, slowly. And she threw them in the -fire. Then Virgil Hoyt brought out the plates and broke them before her -eyes. - -And that was the end of it--except that Hoyt sometimes tells the story -to those who sit beside him when his pipe is lighted. - - - - -THE GHOST OF A LIVE MAN. - - -We were in the South Atlantic Ocean, in the latitude of the island of -Fernando Norohna, about 40 degrees 12 minutes south, on board the barque -H. G. Johnson, homeward bound from Australia. I was the only passenger, -and we had safely rounded Cape Horn, with the barometer at 28 degrees 18 -minutes, and yet had somehow miraculously escaped any extremely heavy -gale--had had light northerly and easterly winds till we reached 20 -degrees, and thence the southeast trades were sending us fast on our way -to the equator. I sat on deck smoking my pipe, with a glorious full moon -shedding its bright pathway across the blue waters, and chatting with -the first mate, a man some fifty-eight years of age, who had followed -the sea since he was a boy. For twenty years or more he had been mate or -captain, and many and varied were the experiences he could relate. A -thorough sailor and skillful navigator, he was as honest as the day is -long--had a heart as big as an ox and was an all-round good fellow and -genial companion. Some of his yarns might be taken cum grano salis, yet -he always positively assured me that he “was telling me the truth.” An -account of a voyage that he made in a whaler from the Southern Ocean to -New Bedford seemed to me worthy to be repeated. He had rounded Cape Horn -six times and the Cape of Good Hope twenty-six times, besides making -many trips across the Western Ocean and to South American ports. I give -his account as near as possible in his own words: - -“It was in ’71 that I commanded the whaler Mary Jane. We had been out -from home over three years, and had on board a full cargo of whale oil, -besides 2,000 pounds of whalebone, which was then worth $5 per pound. I -also had been fortunate enough to find in a dead whale which we came -across a large quantity of ambergris, and our hearts were all very light -as we began our homeward voyage, and our thoughts all tended to the -hearty welcome which we should receive from wives and sweethearts when -we reached our journey’s end. Many a night as I lay in my berth I had -thought with great pleasure of the amount of money that would be coming -to me from the proceeds of our voyage when we arrived in New Bedford. - -“I calculated that I had made $12,000 as my share of the proceeds of the -whalebone and oil--to say nothing of the ambergris, which I well knew -would bring at least $20,000, and one-half of which belonged to me. You -can therefore imagine that I was well pleased with myself as we went -bounding along through the southeast trades. We crossed the equator in -longitude 36 and soon after took strong northeast trades, and all was -going as well as I could wish. We had put the ship in perfect order, -painted her inside and out, and you would never have recognized her as -the old whaling ship that had for three years been plying the Southern -Ocean for whales. Never shall I forget an old bull whale that we tackled -about two degrees to the south of Cape Horn--but that is another story, -which I will give you another time. - -“We had just lost the northeast trades and were entering the Gulf -Stream. I sat in my cabin with my chart on the table before me rolled -up. I had just picked our location on it, and was thinking that in a -week more I should be at home, surrounded by those near and dear to me, -and relating to them the story of my great good fortune. - -“It was always my custom to work up my latitude and longitude about four -o’clock in the afternoon, and then after supper pick off her position on -the chart, have a smoke and perhaps just before retiring a nip of grog, -and then at 8.30 o’clock, as regular as a clock, I would turn in. - -“I am a great smoker, and this day I had been smoking all the afternoon, -besides having had two or three nips. We had a dog on board whom we -called ‘Bosun,’ who had been out with us all the voyage, and who was -afraid of nothing. He had endeared himself to every man on board, and -when Bosun ‘took water’ something very serious was in the wind. This -night as I sat in the cabin I heard a most dismal howl from Bosun, and -called out to the mate to know what was the matter with the dog. He -replied that he ‘reckoned some of the men had been teasing him,’ and the -occurrence soon passed from my mind. - -“Suddenly I saw someone coming down the after companion way into the -cabin. I supposed at first it was the mate and wondered that he had not -first spoken to me, but then I noticed that he wore clothes I had never -seen on the mate, and as he advanced into the cabin I saw his face. It -was the face of a man I had never seen in my life. He was thin and pale -and haggard, and as he advanced he looked about the cabin and at the -rolled up chart on the table. There seemed to be an appeal in his eyes, -and then there swept over his face a look of intense disappointment, and -before I could move or speak, he had vanished from my sight. - -“Now I am a very practical man, and I at once straightened myself in my -chair and said to myself: ‘Well, old man, you have smoked one too many -pipes to-day, or else you have had one drink too much, for you have been -asleep in your chair and seen a ghost.’ I was quite satisfied that I -had had a dream, especially as I called to the mate and asked him if he -had seen anyone come below. He said no; that he had not left the deck -for the last hour, and the man at the wheel, directly in front of the -door, was sure no one had entered the cabin, so I convinced myself that -I had had a very vivid dream--though I could not help thinking of the -matter all through the next day. - -“At eight o’clock the next evening I sat in the same place with my work -just finished and the chart lying rolled up on the table before me, when -suddenly the dog’s dismal howl rang through the ship, and looking up I -saw those same legs coming down the after companion. My hair fairly -stood on end, and yet to-day surely I was wide awake. I had only smoked -one pipe all day, and had not touched a drop of liquor. The same wan, -emaciated figure walked into the cabin, glanced inquiringly and -appealingly at me, and again there spread over his face that look of -utter disappointment as if he had sought something and failed to find -it, and again he disappeared. I rushed on deck to the mate and told him -all I had seen during the last two nights; but he made light of it, and -assured me I had been asleep or smoking too much. He did not like to -suggest that I had been drinking. Still, I could see that the thought -that came into his mind was ‘The old man has seen ’em again.’ I gave up -trying to convince him, but requested that the next night, from 8 to -8.30, he should sit with me in the cabin. - -“How the next day passed I cannot tell. I only know that my thoughts -never left that ghostly visitant, and somehow I felt that the evening -would reveal something to me and the spell be broken. I made up my mind -I would speak to the thing, whatever it was, and I felt a sort of -security in the presence of the mate, who was a daring fellow and feared -neither man nor the devil. Neither rum nor tobacco passed my lips during -the next day, and eight o’clock found the mate and I sitting in the -cabin, and this time the chart lay open on the table beside us. Just as -eight bells struck the dog’s premonitory wail sounded, and looking up we -both saw the figure descending the cabin stairs. We both seemed frozen -to our seats, and the strange weirdness of the whole proceeding cast the -same spell over the mate and me alike, and we were both unable to move -or speak. Slowly the figure proceeded into the cabin and glanced around -without a word, but with the same expectant look on his face. His form -was even more wasted, his cheeks sunken and his eyes seemed almost out -of sight so deeply were they set in their sockets. As his eye fell on -the open chart a look of supreme joy fairly irradiated his features, and -advancing to the table he placed one long, bony finger on the chart, -held it for a moment and then again disappeared from our sight. - -“For five minutes after he had left us we sat speechless. Then I managed -to say: ‘What do you think of that, Mr. Morris?’ ‘My God! sir, I don’t -know--it’s beyond me.’ Then my eyes fell on the open chart and there -where the finger had been was a tiny spot of blood, exactly on the point -of longitude 63 degrees west and latitude 37 degrees north. We were then -only about fifty miles distant from that position, and immediately there -came to me the determination to steer the ship there; so I laid her -course accordingly, and posted a lookout in the crow’s nest. At five -o’clock in the morning, just as the east began to grow gray, the lookout -called out: ‘Boat on the lee bow,’ and as we came up to it we found four -men in it--three dead and one with just a remnant of life left in him. -We sewed the three bodies in canvas and buried them in the ocean, and -then gave all our attention to restoring life to the poor emaciated -frame, which, I then recognized, was the very man who for three -successive nights had visited me in my cabin. - -“By judicious and careful nursing life gradually came back to him, and -in four days’ time he was able to sit up and talk with me in the cabin. -It seems he commanded the ship Promise, and she had taken fire and been -destroyed, and all hands had to take to the boats. Ten were in the boats -at first, but their food had given out, and one by one he had seen them -die, and one by one he had cast the bodies overboard. Finally he lost -consciousness and knew not whether his three remaining companions were -dead or alive. - -“Then he said he seemed in a dream to see a ship and tried to go to her -for help, but just as he would be going on board of her something would -seem to keep him back; three times in his dreams he tried to visit this -ship, and the last time there seemed to come to him a certain -satisfaction, and he felt that he had succeeded in his object. Turning -to my table, he said: ‘Let me take your chart; I’ll show you just where -we were.’ - -“‘Stop,’ said I, ‘don’t take that chart, it is an old one and all marked -over. Mark your position on this new one.’ He took my pencil and knife, -and carefully sharpened his pencil. Then, taking my dividers, he -measured his latitude and longitude and placed a pencil dot at a point -on the clean chart. As he lifted his hand he said: ‘Oh, excuse me, -captain, I cut my finger in sharpening the pencil and have left a drop -of blood on the chart.’ - -“‘Never mind,’ said I, ‘leave it there.’ And then I produced the old -chart and there, in an exactly corresponding place was the drop of blood -left by my ghostly visitor.” - -Then looking steadily into my face the mate solemnly added: “I can’t -explain this, sir, perhaps you can; but I can tell you on my honor it is -God’s own truth that I have told you.” - - - - -THE GHOST OF WASHINGTON. - - -It was early on Christmas morning when John Reilly wheeled away from a -picturesque little village where he had passed the previous night, to -continue his cycling tour through eastern Pennsylvania. To-day his -intention was to stop at Valley Forge, and then to ride on up the -Schuylkill Valley, visiting in turn the many points of historical -interest that lay along his route. Valley Forge, his road map indicated, -was but a short distance further on. All around him were the hills and -fields and roads over which Washington and his half-starved army had -foraged and roamed throughout the trying winter of 1777-8--one hundred -and twenty-six years ago. - -It was a beautiful Christmas day, truly, and, as he wheeled along, young -Reilly’s thoughts were almost equally divided between the surrounding -pleasant scenery and the folks at home, who, he knew very well, were -assembling at just about the present time around a heavily laden -Christmas tree in the front parlor. The sun rose higher and higher and -Reilly pedaled on down the valley, passing every now and then quaint, -pleasant-looking farmhouses, many of which, no doubt, had been built -anterior to the period which had given the vicinity its history. - -Arriving, finally, at a place where the road forked off in two -directions, Reilly was puzzled which way to go on. There happened to be -a dwelling close by. Accordingly he dismounted, left his wheel leaning -against a gate-post at the side of the road, and walked up a wretchedly -flagged walk leading to the house, with the idea of getting instructions -from its inmates. - -Situated in the center of an unkempt field of rank grass and weeds, the -building lay back from the highway probably one hundred and fifty feet. -It was long and low in shape, containing but one story and having what -is termed a gabled roof, under which there must have been an attic of no -mean size. On coming close to the house, a fact Reilly had not noticed -from the road became plainly evident. It was deserted. He saw that the -roof and side shingles were in wretched condition; that the window -sashes and frames as well as the doors and door frames were missing from -the openings in the side walls where once they had been, and that the -entire side of the house, including that part of the stone foundation -which showed above the ground, was full of cracks and seams. At first on -the point of turning back, he concluded to see what the interior was -like anyway. - -Accordingly he went inside. Glancing around the large dust-filled room -he had entered his gaze at first failed to locate any object of the -least interest. A rickety appearing set of steps went up into the attic -from one side of the apartment and over in one corner was a large open -fireplace, from the walls of which much of the brickwork had become -loosened and fallen out. Reilly had started up the steps toward the -attic, when happening to look back for an instant, his attention was -attracted to a singular-looking, jug-shaped bottle no larger than a -vinegar cruet, which lay upon its side on the hearth of the fireplace, -partly covered up by debris of loose bricks and mortar. He hastened back -down the steps and crossed the room, taking the bottle up in his hand -and examining it with curiosity. Being partly filled with a liquid of -some kind or other the bottle was very soon uncorked and held under the -young man’s nose. The liquid gave forth a peculiar, pungent and inviting -odor. Without further hesitation Reilly’s lips sought the neck of the -bottle. It is hardly possible to describe the pleasure and satisfaction -his senses experienced as he drank. - -While the fluid was still gurgling down his throat a heavy hand was -placed most suddenly on his shoulder and his body was given a violent -shaking. The bottle fell to the floor and was broken into a hundred -pieces. - -“Hello!” said a rough voice almost in Reilly’s ear. “Who are you, -anyway? And what are you doing within the lines? A spy, I’ll be bound.” - -As most assuredly there had been no one else in the vicinity of the -building when he had entered it and with equal certainty no one had come -down the steps from the attic, Reilly was naturally surprised and -mystified by this unexpected assault. He struggled instinctively to -break loose from the unfriendly grasp, and when he finally succeeded he -twisted his body around so that he faced across the room. Immediately he -made the remarkable discovery that there were four other persons in the -apartment--three uncouth-looking fellows habited in fantastic but ragged -garments, and a matronly-looking woman, the latter standing over a -washtub which had been elevated upon two chairs in a corner near the -fireplace. To all appearance the woman had been busy at her work and had -stopped for the moment to see what the men were going to do; her waist -sleeves were rolled up to the shoulders and her arms dripped with water -and soapsuds. Over the tops of the tubs, partly filled with water, there -were visible the edges of several well-soaked fabrics. Too add to his -astonishment he noticed that in the chimney-place, which a moment before -was falling apart, but now seemed to be clean and in good condition, a -cheerful fire burned, and that above the flames was suspended an iron -pot, from which issued a jet of steam. He noticed also that the entire -appearance of the room had undergone a great change. Everything seemed -to be in good repair, tidy and neat; the ceilings, the walls and the -door; even the stairway leading to the attic. The openings in the walls -were fitted with window sashes and well-painted doors. The apartment -had, in fact, evolved under his very eyesight from a state of absolute -ruin into one of excellent preservation. - -All of this seemed so weird and uncanny, that Reilly stood for a moment -or two in the transformed apartment, utterly dumbfounded, with his mouth -wide open and his eyes all but popping out of his head. He was brought -to his senses by the fellow who had shaken him growling out: - -“Come! Explain yourself!” - -“An explanation is due me,” Reilly managed to gasp. - -“Don’t bandy words with the rascal, Harry,” one of the other men spoke -up. “Bring him along to headquarters.” - -Thereupon, without further parley, the three men marched Reilly in -military fashion into the open air and down to the road. Here he picked -up at the gate-post his bicycle, while they unstacked a group of three -old-fashioned-looking muskets located close by. When the young man had -entered the house a few minutes before, this stack of arms had not been -there. He could not understand it. Neither could he understand, on -looking back at the building as he was marched off down the road, the -mysterious agency that had transformed its dilapidated exterior, just as -had been the interior, into a practically new condition. - -While they trudged along, the strangers exhibited a singular interest in -the wheel Reilly pushed at his side, running their coarse hands over the -frame and handle-bar, and acting on the whole as though they never -before had seen a bicycle. This in itself was another surprise. He had -hardly supposed there were three men in the country so totally -unacquainted with what is a most familiar piece of mechanism everywhere. - -At the same time that they were paying so much attention to the wheel, -Reilly in turn was studying with great curiosity his singular-looking -captors. Rough, unprepossessing appearing fellows they were, large of -frame and unshaven, and, it must be added, dirty of face. What remained -of their very ragged clothing, he had already noticed, was of a most -remarkable cut and design, resembling closely the garments worn by the -Continental militiamen in the War of Independence. The hats were broad, -low of crown, and three-cornered in shape; the trousers were -buff-colored and ended at the knees, and the long, blue spike-tailed -coats were flapped over at the extremities of the tails, the flaps being -fastened down with good-sized brass buttons. Leather leggings were -strapped around cowhide boots, through the badly worn feet of which, in -places where the leather had cracked open, the flesh, unprotected by -stockings, could be seen. Dressed as he was, in a cleanly, gray cycling -costume, Reilly’s appearance, most assuredly, was strongly in contrast -to that of his companions. - -After a brisk walk of twenty minutes, during which they occasionally met -and passed by one or two or perhaps a group of men clothed and outfitted -like Reilly’s escorts, the little party followed the road up a slight -incline and around a well-wooded bend to the left, coming quite -suddenly, and to the captive, very unexpectedly, to what was without -doubt a military encampment; a village, in fact, composed of many rows -of small log huts. Along the streets, between the buildings, muskets -were stacked in hundreds of places. Over in one corner, on a slight -eminence commanding the road up which they had come, and cleverly hidden -from it behind trees and shrubbery, the young man noticed a battery of -field pieces. Wherever the eye was turned on this singular scene were -countless numbers of soldiers all garmented in three-cornered hats, -spike-tailed coats and knee breeches, walking lazily hither and thither, -grouped around crackling fires, or parading up and down the streets in -platoons under the guidance of ragged but stern-looking officers. - -Harry stopped the little procession of four in front of one of the -larger of the log houses. Then, while they stood there, the long blast -from a bugle was heard, followed by the roll of drums. A minute or two -afterward, several companies of militia marched up and grounded their -arms, forming three sides of a hollow square around them, the fourth -and open side being toward the log house. Directly succeeding this -maneuver there came through the doorway of the house and stepped up the -center of the square, stopping directly in front of Reilly, a -dignified-looking person, tall and straight and splendidly proportioned -of figure, and having a face of great nobility and character. - -The cold chills chased one another down Reilly’s back. His limbs swayed -and tottered beneath his weight. He had never experienced another such -sensation of mingled astonishment and fright. - -He was in the presence of General Washington. Not a phantom Washington, -either, but Washington in the flesh and blood; as material and earthly a -being as ever crossed a person’s line of vision. Reilly, in his time, -had seen so many portraits, marble busts and statues of the great -commander that he could not be mistaken. Recovering the use of his -faculties, which for the moment he seemed to have lost, Reilly did the -very commonplace thing that others before him have done when placed -unexpectedly in remarkable situations. He pinched himself to make sure -that he was in reality wide awake and in the natural possession of his -senses. He felt like pinching the figure in front of him also, but he -could not muster up the courage to do that. He stood there trying to -think it all out, and as his thoughts became less stagnant, his fright -dissolved under the process of reasoning his mind pursued. To reason a -thing out, even though an explanation can only be obtained by leaving -much of the subject unaccounted for, tends to make one bolder and less -shaky in the knees. - -The series of strange incidents which he was experiencing had been -inaugurated in the old-fashioned dwelling he had visited after -information concerning the roads. And everything had been going along in -a perfectly normal way up to, the very moment when he had taken a drink -from the bottle found in the fireplace. But from that precise time -everything had gone wrongly. Hence the inference that the drinking of -the peculiar liquid was accountable in some way or other for his -troubles. There was a supernatural agency in the whole thing. That much -must be admitted. And whatever that agency was, and however it might be -accounted for, it had taken Reilly back into a period of time more than -a hundred years ago, and landed him, body and soul, within the lines of -the patriot forces wintering at Valley Forge. He might have stood there, -turning over and over in his mind, pinching himself and muttering, all -the morning, had not the newcomer ceased a silent but curious inspection -of his person, and asked: “Who are you, sir?” - -“John Reilly, at your pleasure,” the young man replied, adding a -question on his own account: “And who are you, sir?” - -Immediately he received a heavy thump on his back from Harry’s hard -fist. - -“It is not for you to question the general,” the ragged administrator of -the blow exclaimed. - -“And it is not for you to be so gay,” Reilly returned, angrily, giving -the blow back with added force. - -“Here, here!” broke in the first questioner. “Fisticuffs under my very -nose! No more of this, I command you both.” To Harry he added an extra -caution: “Your zeal in my behalf will be better appreciated by being -less demonstrative. Blows should be struck only on the battlefield.” To -Reilly he said, with a slight smile hovering over his face, “My name is -Washington. Perhaps you may have heard of me?” - -To this Reilly replied: “I have, indeed, and heard you very well spoken -of, too.” Emboldened by the other’s smile, he ventured another question: -“I think my reckoning of the day and year is badly at fault. An hour ago -I thought the day was Christmas day. How far out of the way did my -calculation take me, sir?” - -“The day is indeed Christmas day, and the year is, as you must know, the -year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-seven.” - -Reilly again pinched himself. - -“Why do you bring this man to me?” Washington now inquired, turning to -Harry and his companions. - -“He is a spy, sir,” said Harry. - -“That is a lie!” Reilly indignantly interpolated. “I have done nothing -to warrant any such charge.” - -“We found him in the Widow Robin’s house, pouring strong liquor down his -throat.” - -“I had gone inside after information concerning the roads----” - -“Which he was getting from a bottle, sir.” - -“If drinking from a bottle of necessity constitutes being a spy, I fear -our camp is already a hotbed,” Washington somewhat sagely remarked, -casting his eye around slyly at his officers and men. “Tell me,” he went -on, with sudden sternness, looking Reilly through and through, as though -to read his very thoughts, “is the charge true? Do you come from Howe?” - -“The charge is not true, sir. I come from no one. I simply am making a -tour of pleasure through this part of the country on my bicycle.” - -“With the country swarming with the men from two hostile armies, any -kind of a tour, save one of absolute necessity, seems ill-timed.” - -“When I set out I knew nothing about any armies. The fact is, sir----” -Reilly started to make an explanation, but he checked himself on -realizing that the telling of any such improbable yarn would only -increase the hazardousness of his position. - -“Well?” Washington questioned, in a tone of growing suspicion. - -“I certainly did not know that your army or any other army was -quartered in this vicinity.” Reilly hesitated for lack of something -further to say. “You see,” he finally added, prompted by a happy idea, -“I rode my wheel from New York.” - -“You may have come from New York, though it is hard to believe you came -on that singular-looking machine so great a distance. Where is the horse -which drew the vehicle?” - -Reilly touched his bicycle. “This is the horse, sir, just as it is; the -vehicle,” he said. - -“The man is crazy!” Harry exclaimed. Washington only looked the -incredulity he felt, and this time asked a double question. - -“How can the thing be balanced without it be held upright by a pair of -shafts from a horse’s back, and how is the motive power acquired?” - -For an answer Reilly jumped upon the wheel, and at a considerable speed -and in a haphazard way pedaled around the space within the hollow square -of soldiers. Hither and thither he went, at one second nearly wheeling -over the toes of the line of astonished, if not frightened, militiamen; -at the next, bearing suddenly down on Harry and his companions and -making them dance and jump about most alertly to avoid a collision. Even -the dignified Washington was once or twice put to the necessity of -dodging hurriedly aside when his equilibrium was threatened. Reilly -eventually dismounted, doing so with assumed clumsiness by stopping the -wheel at Harry’s back and falling over heavily against the soldier. -Harry tumbled to the ground, but Reilly dexterously landed on his feet. -At once he began offering a profusion of apologies. - -“You did that by design!” Harry shouted, jumping to his feet. His face -was red with anger and he shook his fist threateningly at the bicyclist. - -Washington commanded the man to hold his peace. Then to Reilly he -expressed a great surprise at his performance and a desire to know more -about the bicycle. The young man thereupon described the machine -minutely, lifting it into the air and spinning the wheels to illustrate -how smoothly they rotated. - -“I can see it is possible to ride the contrivance with rapidity. It has -been put together with wonderful ingenuity,” Washington said, when -Reilly had replaced the wheel on the ground. - -“And you, sir, it is but a toy,” an officer spoke up. “Put our friend on -his bundle of tin and race him against one of our horsemen and he would -make a sorry showing.” - -Reilly smiled. “I bear the gentleman no ill-will for his opinion,” he -said. “Still, I should like to show him by a practical test of the -subject that his ignorance of it is most profound.” - -“You would test the speed of the machine against that of a horse?” -Washington said, in amazement. - -“I would, sir. You have a good road yonder. With your permission and a -worthy opponent I would make the test at once.” - -“But, sir, the man is a spy,” Harry broke in. “Would it not be better to -throw a rope around his neck and give him his deserts?” - -“The charge is by no means proven,” Washington replied. “Nor can it be -until a court martial convenes this afternoon. And I see no reason why -we may not in the meantime enjoy the unique contest which has been -suggested. It will make a pleasant break in the routine of camp life.” - -A murmur of approval went up from the masses of men by whom they were -surrounded. While they had been talking it seemed as though everybody in -the camp not already on the scene had gathered together behind the -square of infantry. - -“Then, sir,” Harry said, with some eagerness, “I would like to be the -man to ride the horse. There is no better animal than mine anywhere. And -I understand his tricks and humors quite well enough to put him to his -best pace.” - -“I confess I have heard you well spoken of as a horseman,” Washington -said. “Be away with you! Saddle and bridle your horse at once.” - -It was the chain of singular circumstances narrated above which brought -John Reilly into the most remarkable contest of his life. He had entered -many bicycle races at one time or other, always with credit to himself -and to the club whose colors he wore. And he had every expectation of -making a good showing to-day. Yet a reflection of the weird conditions -which had brought about the present contest took away some of his -self-possession when a few minutes later he was marched over to the -turnpike and left to his own thoughts, while the officers were pacing -out a one mile straightaway course down the road. - -After the measurements had been taken, two unbroken lines of soldiers -were formed along the entire mile; a most evident precaution against -Reilly leaving the race course at any point to escape across the fields. -Washington came up to him again, when the preparations were completed, -to shake his hand and whisper a word or two of encouragement in his ear. -Having performed these kindly acts he left to take up a position near -the point of finish. - -The beginning of the course was located close to the battery of half -concealed field pieces. Reilly was now conducted to this place. Shortly -afterward Harry appeared on his horse. He leered at the bicyclist -contemptuously and said something of a sarcastic nature partly under his -breath when the two lined up, side by side, for the start. To these -slights Reilly paid no heed; he had a strong belief that when the race -was over there would be left in the mutton-like head of his opponent -very little of his present inclination toward the humorous. The -soldier’s mount was a handsome black mare, fourteen and a half hands -high; strong of limbs and at the flanks, and animated by a spirit that -kept her prancing around with continuous action. It must be admitted -that the man rode very well. He guided the animal with ease and -nonchalance when she reared and plunged, and kept her movements confined -to an incredibly small piece of ground, considering her abundance of -action. - -“Keep to your own side of the road throughout the race. I don’t want to -be collided with by your big beast,” Reilly cautioned, while they were -awaiting two signals from the starter. - -To this Harry replied in some derision, “I’ll give you a good share of -the road at the start, and all of it and my dust, too, afterward.” And -then the officer who held the pistol fired the first shot. - -Reilly was well satisfied with the conditions under which the race was -to be made. The road was wide and level, smooth, hard and straight, and -a strong breeze which had sprung up, blew squarely against his back. His -wheel was geared up to eighty-four inches; the breeze promised to be a -valuable adjunct in pushing it along. Awaiting the second and last -signal, Reilly glanced down the two blue ranks of soldiers, which -stretched away into hazy lines in the distance and converged at the -termination of the course where a flag had been stuck into the ground. -The soldiers were at parade rest. Their unceasing movements as they -chatted to one another, turning their bodies this way and that and -craning their heads forward to look toward the starting point, and then -jerking them back, made the lines seem like long, squirming snakes. At -the end of the course a thick bunch of militiamen clogged the road and -overspread into the fields. - -Crack! The signal to be off. Reilly shoved aside the fellow who had been -holding his wheel upright while astride of it, and pushed down on the -pedals. The mare’s hoofs dug the earth; her great muscular legs -straightened out; she sprang forward with a snort of apparent pleasure, -taking the lead at the very start. Reilly heard the shout of excitement -run along the two ranks of soldiers. He saw them waving their arms and -hats as he went by. And on ahead through the cloud of dust there was -visible the shadow-like outlines of the snorting, galloping horse, whose -hoof beats sounded clear and sharp above the din which came from the -sides of the highway. The mare crept farther and farther ahead. Very -soon a hundred feet or more of the road lay between her and the -bicyclist. Harry turned in his saddle and called out another sarcasm. - -“I shall pass you very soon. Keep to your own side of the road!” Reilly -shouted, not a bit daunted by the way the race had commenced. His head -was well down over the handle-bars, his back had the shape of the upper -portion of an immense egg. Up and down his legs moved; faster and -faster and faster yet. He went by the soldiers so rapidly that they only -appeared to be two streaks of blurry color. Their sharp rasping shouts -sounded like the cracking of musketry. The cloud of dust blew against -the bicyclist’s head and into his mouth and throat. When he glanced -ahead again he saw with satisfaction that the mare was no longer -increasing her lead. It soon became evident even that he was slowly -cutting down the advantages she had secured. - -Harry again turned his head shortly afterward, doubtless expecting to -find his opponent hopelessly distanced by this time. Instead of this -Reilly was alarmingly close upon him. The man ejaculated a sudden oath -and lashed his animal furiously. Straining every nerve and sinew the -mare for the moment pushed further ahead. Then her pace slackened a bit -and Reilly again crept up to her. Closer and closer to her than before, -until his head was abreast of her outstretched tail. Harry was lashing -the mare and swearing at her unceasingly now. But she had spurted once -and appeared to be incapable of again increasing her speed. In this way -they went on for some little distance, Harry using his whip brutally, -the mare desperately struggling to attain a greater pace, Reilly hanging -on with tenacity to her hind flanks and giving up not an inch of ground. - -A mile is indeed a very short distance when traversed at such a pace. -The finishing flag was already but a few hundred feet further on. -Reilly realized that it was time now to go to the front. He gritted his -teeth together with determination and bent his head down even further -toward his front wheel. Then his feet began to move so quickly that -there was only visible an indistinct blur at the sides of his crank -shaft. At this very second, with a face marked with rage and hatred, -Harry brought his horse suddenly across the road to thet part of it -which he had been warned to avoid. - -It is hard to tell what kept Reilly from being run into and trampled -under foot. An attempt at back pedaling, a sudden twist of the -handle-bar, a lurch to one side that almost threw him from his seat. -Then, in the fraction of a second he was over on the other side of the -road, pushing ahead of the mare almost as though she were standing -still. The outburst of alarm from the throats of the soldiers changed -when they saw that Reilly had not been injured; first into a shout of -indignation at the dastardly attempt which had been made to run him -down, and then into a roar of delight when the bicyclist breasted the -flag a winner of the race by twenty feet. - -As he crossed the line Reilly caught a glimpse of Washington. He stood -close to the flag and was waving his hat in the air with the enthusiasm -of a schoolboy. Reilly went on down the road slackening his speed as -effectively as he could. But before it was possible to entirely stop -his wheel’s momentum the noisy acclamations in his rear ceased with -startling suddenness. He turned in his saddle and looked back. As sure -as St. Peter he had the road entirely to himself. There wasn’t a soldier -or the ghost of a soldier in sight. - -As soon as he could he turned his bicycle about and rode slowly back -along the highway, now so singularly deserted, looking hither and -thither in vain for some trace of the vanished army. Even the flag which -had been stuck into the ground at the end of the one-mile race course -was gone. The breeze had died out again and the air was tranquil and -warm. In the branches of a nearby tree two sparrows chirped and -twittered peacefully. Reilly went back to the place where the camp had -been. He found there only open fields on one side of the road and a -clump of woodland on the other. He continued on down the little hill up -which Harry and his companions had brought him a few hours previously -and followed the road on further, coming finally to the fork in it near -which was located the old farmhouse wherein he had been taken captive. -The house was, as it had been when he had previously entered it, falling -apart from age and neglect. When he went inside he found lying on the -brick hearth in front of the fireplace a number of pieces of broken -glass. - - THE END. - - * * * * * - - True Ghost Stories - - BY HEREWARD CARRINGTON - - [Illustration] - -The author of this book is well known in both America and Europe as a -prominent scientific writer on psychical and occult subjects. He has -been a member of both the English and American Societies for Psychical -Research for more than fifteen years, has written over a dozen books on -the subject, a number of which have been translated into foreign -languages including the Japanese and Arabic, and he has lectured in -London, Paris, Rome, Venice, Milan, Geneva, Turin, etc., before -scientific organizations. His writings are well known and have earned -him a high place in psychical circles. - -In this book he presents a number of startling cases which he has -discovered in his unrivalled investigations of psychical mysteries. They -are not the ordinary “ghost stories,” based on pure fiction and having -no foundation in reality, but are a collection of incidents all -thoroughly investigated and vouched for, the testimony being obtained -first hand and corroborated by others. - -The first chapter deals with the interesting question =What Is a Ghost?= -and attempts to answer this question in the light of the latest -scientific theories which have been advanced to explain these -supernatural happenings and visitants. - -Other chapters are: - - =Phantasms of the Dead.= - =More Phantasms.= - =Haunted Houses.= - =Ghost Stories of a More Dramatic Order.= - =Historical Ghosts.= - =The Phantom Armies Seen in France.= - =Bibliography.= - -=True Ghost Stories= is a book of absorbing interest and cannot fail to -grip and hold the attention of every reader, whether he be a student of -these questions, or merely in search of hair-raising anecdotes and -stories, he will find them here a-plenty. - -The book contains 250 pages printed on antique woven book paper, -attractively bound in cloth, with illustrated jacket in colors. =Price, -75 cents by mail, postpaid.= - - J. 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Bob Holland - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Twenty-Five Ghost Stories - -Author: W. Bob Holland - -Release Date: October 31, 2016 [EBook #53419] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWENTY-FIVE GHOST STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -book was produced from scanned images of public domain -material from the Google Books project.) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Image unavailable" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a>{1}</span></p> - -<h1> -Twenty-Five Ghost Stories.</h1> - -<p class="cb"> -COMPILED AND EDITED<br /> -<br /> -BY<br /> -<br /> -W. BOB HOLLAND.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”<br /></span> -<span class="i12">—<i>Hamlet.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c">————————<br /> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1904, by<br /> -J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company.</span><br /> -————————<br /><br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">New York</span>:<br /> -J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,<br /> -57 <span class="smcap">Rose Street</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a>{2}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a>{3}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt">PAGE</td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PREFACE">Preface</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_005">5</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_BLACK_CAT">The Black Cat</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_007">7</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_FLAYED_HAND">The Flayed Hand</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_028">28</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_VENGEANCE_OF_A_TREE">The Vengeance of a Tree</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_037">37</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_PARLOR-CAR_GHOST">The Parlor-Car Ghost</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_044">44</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GHOST_OF_BUCKSTOWN_INN">Ghost of Buckstown Inn</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_051">51</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_BURGLARS_GHOST">The Burglar’s Ghost</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_059">59</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_PHANTOM_TOE">A Phantom Toe</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_076">76</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MRS_DAVENPORTS_GHOST">Mrs. Davenport’s Ghost</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_081">81</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_PHANTOM_WOMAN">The Phantom Woman</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_090">90</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_PHANTOM_HAG">The Phantom Hag</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_100">100</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FROM_THE_TOMB">From the Tomb</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_105">105</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SANDYS_GHOST">Sandy’s Ghost</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_114">114</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_GHOSTS_OF_RED_CREEK">The Ghosts of Red Creek</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_123">123</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SPECTRE_BRIDE">The Spectre Bride</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a>{4}</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_128">128</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HOW_HE_CAUGHT_THE_GHOST">How He Caught the Ghost</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_134">134</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GRAND-DAMES_GHOST_STORY">Grand-Dame’s Ghost Story </a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_144">144</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_FIGHT_WITH_A_GHOST">A Fight with a Ghost</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_153">153</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#COLONEL_HALIFAXS_GHOST_STORY">Colonel Halifax’s Ghost Story</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_168">168</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_GHOST_OF_THE_COUNT">The Ghost of the Count</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_190">190</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_OLD_MANSION">The Old Mansion</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_202">202</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_MISFIT_GHOST">A Misfit Ghost</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_210">210</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AN_UNBIDDEN_GUEST">An Unbidden Guest</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_215">215</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_DEAD_WOMANS_PHOTOGRAPH">The Dead Woman’s Photograph</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_220">220</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_GHOST_OF_A_LIVE_MAN">The Ghost of a Live Man</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_228">228</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_GHOST_OF_WASHINGTON">The Ghost of Washington</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_236">236</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a>{5}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">This</span> collection of ghost stories owes its publication to an interest -that I have long felt in the supernatural and in works of the -imagination. As a child I was deeply concerned in tales of spooks, -haunted houses, wraiths and specters and stories of weird experiences, -clanking chains, ghostly sights and gruesome sounds always held me -spellbound and breathless.</p> - -<p>Experiences in editorial offices taught me that I was not alone in -liking stories of mystery. The desire to know something of that -existence that is veiled by Death is equally potent in old age and in -youth, and men, women and children like to be thrilled and to have a -“creepy” feeling along the spinal column as the result of reading of a -visitor from beyond the grave.</p> - -<p>This volume contains the most famous of the weird stories of Edgar Allan -Poe, that master of this form of literature. “The Black Cat” contains -all the needed element of mystery and supernatural, and yet the feline -acts in a natural manner all of the time, and the story is quite -possibly true. It is only in the manner of its<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a>{6}</span> telling that the tale -becomes one that fittingly finds its place in this collection.</p> - -<p>Guy de Maupassant, the clever Frenchman, is also represented by two -effective bits of work, and other less widely known writers have also -contributed stories that are worth reading, and when once read will be -remembered. There is not a story among the twenty-five that is not -worthy of close reading.</p> - -<p>There has recently been a revival in interest in ghost stories. Many of -the high-class magazines have within a few months printed stories with -supernatural incidents, and writers whose names are known to all who -read have turned their attention to this form of literature.</p> - -<p>Whether or not the reader believe in ghosts, he cannot fail to be -interested in this little book. Without venturing to express a positive -opinion either way, I will only say with Hamlet: “There are more things -in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">W. Bob Holland.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a>{7}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="Twenty-Five_Ghost_Stories" id="Twenty-Five_Ghost_Stories"></a>Twenty-Five Ghost Stories</h2> - -<h2><a name="THE_BLACK_CAT" id="THE_BLACK_CAT"></a>THE BLACK CAT.<br /><br /> -<small>BY EDGAR ALLAN POE.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">For</span> the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I -neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, -in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I -not—and very surely do I not dream. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I -would unburden my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the -world, plainly, succinctly and without comment a series of mere -household events. In their consequences, these events have -terrified—have tortured—have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to -expound them. To me they have presented little but horror, to many they -will seem less terrible than baroques. Hereafter, perhaps, some -intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the -commonplace—some intellect more<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>{8}</span> calm, more logical, and far less -excitable than my own, which will perceive in the circumstances I detail -with awe nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes -and effects.</p> - -<p>From my infancy I was noted for the docility and humanity of my -disposition. My tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to make -me the jest of my companions. I was especially fond of animals, and was -indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets. With these I spent -most of my time, and never was so happy as when feeding and caressing -them. This peculiarity of character grew with my growth, and in my -manhood I derived from it one of my principal sources of pleasure. To -those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and sagacious dog, -I need hardly be at the trouble of explaining the nature or the -intensity of the gratification thus derivable. There is something in the -unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to -the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry -friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man.</p> - -<p>I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not -uncongenial with my own. Observing my partiality for domestic pets she -lost no opportunity of procuring those of the most agreeable kind. We -had birds, goldfish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey and a cat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>{9}</span></p> - -<p>This latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black, -and sagacious to an astonishing degree. In speaking of his intelligence, -my wife, who at heart was not a little tinctured with superstition, made -frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion, which regarded all -black cats as witches in disguise. Not that she was ever serious upon -this point—and I mention the matter at all for no better reason than -that it happens, just now, to be remembered.</p> - -<p>Pluto—this was the cat’s name—was my favorite pet and playmate. I -alone fed him, and he attended me wherever I went about the house. It -was even with difficulty that I could prevent him from following me -through the streets.</p> - -<p>Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which -my general temperament and character—through the instrumentality of the -fiend Intemperance—had (I blush to confess it) experienced a radical -alteration for the worse. I grew, day by day, more moody, more -irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others. I suffered myself -to use intemperate language to my wife. At length I even offered her -personal violence. My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in -my disposition. I not only neglected them, but ill-used them. For Pluto, -however, I still retained sufficient regard to restrain me from -maltreating him, as I made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the -monkey<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>{10}</span> or even the dog, when by accident or through affection they came -in my way. But my disease grew upon me—for what disease is like -alcohol! And at length even Pluto, who was now becoming old, and -consequently somewhat peevish—even Pluto began to experience the -effects of my ill-temper.</p> - -<p>One night, returning home much intoxicated from one of my haunts about -town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence. I seized him, when, in -his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight wound upon my hand with -his teeth. The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no -longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my -body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every -fiber of my frame. I took from my waistcoat pocket a penknife, opened -it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of -its eyes from the socket! I blush, I burn, I shudder while I pen the -damnable atrocity.</p> - -<p>When reason returned with the morning—when I had slept off the fumes of -the night’s debauch—I experienced a sentiment half of horror, half of -remorse, for the crime of which I had been guilty; but it was, at best, -a feeble and equivocal feeling, and the soul remained untouched. I again -plunged into excess, and soon drowned in wine all memory of the deed.</p> - -<p>In the meantime the cat slowly recovered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>{11}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/p011.jpg" width="323" height="500" alt="Image unavailable: “One night, returning home much intoxicated.”" title="" /> -<br /> -<span class="caption">“One night, returning home much intoxicated.”</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>{12}</span></p> - -<p>The socket of the lost eye presented, it is true, a frightful -appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any pain. He went about -the house as usual, but, as might be expected, fled in extreme terror at -my approach. I had so much of my old heart left as to be at first -grieved by this evident dislike on the part of a creature which had once -so loved me. But this feeling soon gave place to irritation. And then -came, as if to my final and irrevocable overthrow, the spirit of -perverseness. Of this spirit philosophy takes no account. Yet I am not -more sure that my soul lives than I am that perverseness is one of the -primitive impulses of the human heart—one of the indivisible primary -faculties or sentiments which give direction to the character of man. -Who has not, hundreds of times, found himself committing a vile or silly -action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we -not a perpetual inclination, in the teeth of our best judgment, to -violate that which is Law, merely because we understand it to be such? -This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to my final overthrow. It was -this unfathomable longing of the soul to vex itself—to offer violence -to its own nature—to do wrong for the wrong’s sake only—that urged me -to continue and finally to consummate the injury I had inflicted upon -the unoffending brute. One morning, in cold blood, I slipped a noose -about its neck, and hung it to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>{13}</span> the limb of a tree; hung it with the -tears streaming from my eyes and the bitterest remorse at my heart; hung -it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given -me no offense; hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing -a sin—a deadly sin that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to -place it, if such a thing were possible—even beyond the reach of the -infinite mercy of the most merciful and most terrible God.</p> - -<p>On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was aroused -from sleep by the cry of “fire!” The curtains of my bed were in flames. -The whole house was blazing. It was with great difficulty that my wife, -a servant and myself made our escape from the conflagration. The -destruction was complete. My entire worldly wealth was swallowed up, and -I resigned myself thenceforward to despair.</p> - -<p>I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and -effect between the disaster and the atrocity. But I am detailing a chain -of facts, and wish not to leave even a possible link imperfect. On the -day succeeding the fire I visited the ruins. The walls, with one -exception, had fallen in. This exception was found in a compartment -wall, not very thick, which stood about the middle of the house, and -against which had rested the head of my bed. The plastering had here, in -great measure, resisted the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>{14}</span> action of the fire—a fact which I -attributed to its having been recently spread. About this wall a dense -crowd were collected, and many persons seemed to be examining a -particular portion of it with very minute and eager attention. The words -“strange!” “singular!” and other similar expressions excited my -curiosity. I approached and saw, as if graven in bas-relief upon the -white surface, the figure of a gigantic cat. The impression was given -with an accuracy truly marvelous. There was a rope about the animal’s -neck.</p> - -<p>When I first beheld this apparition—for I could scarcely regard it as -less—my wonder and my terror were extreme. But at length reflection -came to my aid. The cat, I remembered, had been hung in a garden -adjacent to the house. Upon the alarm of fire this garden had been -immediately filled by the crowd—by some one of whom the animal must -have been cut from the tree and thrown through an open window into my -chamber. This had probably been done with the view of arousing me from -sleep. The falling of other walls had compressed the victim of my -cruelty into the substance of the freshly spread plaster, the lime of -which with the flames, and the ammonia from the carcass, had then -accomplished the portraiture as I saw it.</p> - -<p>Although I thus readily accounted to my reason, if not altogether to my -conscience, for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>{15}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/p015.jpg" width="358" height="500" alt="Image unavailable: “Because I knew that it had loved me.”" title="" /> -<br /> -<span class="caption">“Because I knew that it had loved me.”</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a>{16}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">startling fact just detailed, it did not the less fail to make a deep -impression upon my fancy. For months I could not rid myself of the -phantasm of the cat; and, during this period, there came back into my -spirit a half sentiment that seemed, but was not, remorse. I went so far -as to regret the loss of the animal, and to look about me, among the -vile haunts which I now habitually frequented, for another pet of the -same species and of somewhat similar appearance, with which to supply -its place.</p> - -<p>One night as I sat, half stupefied, in a den of more than infamy, my -attention was suddenly drawn to some black object, reposing upon the -head of one of the immense hogsheads of gin, or of rum, which -constituted the chief furniture of the apartment. I had been looking -steadily at the top of this hogshead for some minutes, and what now -caused me surprise was the fact that I had not sooner perceived the -object thereupon. I approached it and touched it with my hand. It was a -black cat—a very large one—fully as large as Pluto, and closely -resembling him in every respect, but only Pluto had not a white hair -upon any portion of his body; but this cat had a large, although -indefinite, splotch of white, covering nearly the whole region of the -breast.</p> - -<p>Upon my touching him he immediately arose, purred loudly, rubbed against -my hand, and appeared delighted with my notice. This,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a>{17}</span> then, was the -very creature of which I was in search. I at once offered to purchase it -of the landlord; but this person made no claim to it—knew nothing of -it—had never seen it before.</p> - -<p>I continued my caresses, and when I prepared to go home the animal -evinced a disposition to accompany me. I permitted it to do so, -occasionally stooping and patting it as I proceeded. When it reached the -house it domesticated itself at once, and became immediately a great -favorite with my wife.</p> - -<p>For my own part, I soon found a dislike to it arising within me. This -was just the reverse of what I had anticipated; but—I know not how or -why it was—its evident fondness for myself rather disgusted and annoyed -me. By slow degrees these feelings of disgust and annoyance rose into -the bitterness of hatred. I avoided the creature; a certain sense of -shame, and the remembrance of my former deed of cruelty, preventing me -from physically abusing it. I did not, for some weeks, strike, or -otherwise violently ill use it; but gradually—very gradually—I came to -look upon it with unutterable loathing, and to flee silently from its -odious presence, as from the breath of a pestilence.</p> - -<p>What added, no doubt, to my hatred of the beast, was the discovery, on -the morning after I brought it home, that, like Pluto, it also had been -deprived of one of its eyes. This circumstance,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>{18}</span> however, only endeared -it to my wife, who, as I have already said, possessed, in a high degree, -that humanity of feeling which had once been my distinguishing trait, -and the source of many of my simplest and purest pleasures.</p> - -<p>With my aversion to this cat, however, its partiality for myself seemed -to increase. It followed my footsteps with a pertinacity which it would -be difficult to make the reader comprehend. Whenever I sat it would -crouch beneath my chair or spring upon my knees, covering me with its -loathsome caresses. If I arose to walk it would get between my feet, and -thus nearly throw me down, or, fastening its long and sharp claws in my -dress, clamber, in this manner, to my breast. At such times, although I -longed to destroy it with a blow, I was yet withheld from so doing, -partly by a memory of my former crime, but chiefly—let me confess it at -once—by absolute dread of the beast.</p> - -<p>This dread was not exactly a dread of physical evil—and yet I should be -at a loss how otherwise to define it. I am almost ashamed to own—yes, -even in this felon’s cell, I am almost ashamed to own—that the terror -and horror with which the animal inspired me had been heightened by one -of the merest chimeras it would be possible to conceive. My wife had -called my attention more than once, to the character of the mark of -white hair, of which I have spoken, and which<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a>{19}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/p019.jpg" width="398" height="500" alt="Image unavailable: “The figure of a gigantic cat.”" title="" /> -<br /> -<span class="caption">“The figure of a gigantic cat.”</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>{20}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">constituted the sole visible difference between the strange beast and -the one I had destroyed. The reader will remember that this mark, -although large, had been originally very indefinite; but, by slow -degrees—degrees nearly imperceptible, and which for a long time my -reason struggled to reject as fanciful—it had, at length, assumed a -rigorous distinctness of outline. It was now the representation of an -object that I shudder to name—and for this, above all, I loathed and -dreaded, and would have rid myself of the monster had I dared—it was -now I say the image of a hideous, of a ghastly thing—of the gallows! -Oh, mournful and terrible engine of horror and of crime—of agony and of -death!</p> - -<p>And now was I indeed wretched beyond the wretchedness of mere humanity. -And a brute beast, whose fellow I had contemptuously destroyed—a brute -beast to work out for me—for me, a man, fashioned in the image of the -High God—so much of insufferable woe. Alas! neither by day nor night -knew I the blessing of rest any more. During the former the creature -left me no moment alone, and in the latter I started hourly from dreams -of unutterable fear, to find the hot breath of the thing upon my face, -and its vast weight—an incarnate nightmare that I had no power to shake -off—incumbent eternally upon my heart.</p> - -<p>Beneath the pressure of torments such as these<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>{21}</span> the feeble remnants of -the good within me succumbed. Evil thoughts became my sole -intimates—the darkest and most evil of thoughts. The moodiness of my -usual temper increased to hatred of all things and of all mankind; -while, from the sudden, frequent and ungovernable outbursts of a fury to -which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining wife, alas! was -the most usual and the most patient of sufferers.</p> - -<p>One day she accompanied me upon some household errand into the cellar of -the old building, which our poverty compelled us to inhabit. The cat -followed me down the steep stairs, and, nearly throwing me headlong, -exasperated me to madness. Uplifting an axe, and forgetting, in my -wrath, the childish dread which had hitherto stayed my hand, I aimed a -blow at the animal which, of course, would have proved instantly fatal -had it descended as I wished. But this blow was arrested by the hand of -my wife. Goaded, by the interference, into a rage more than demoniacal, -I withdrew my arm from her grasp, and buried the ax in her brain. She -fell dead upon the spot, without a groan.</p> - -<p>This hideous murder accomplished, I set myself forthwith, and with -entire deliberation, to the task of concealing the body. I knew that I -could not remove it from the house, either by day or by night, without -the risk of being observed by the neighbors. Many projects entered my -mind. At<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a>{22}</span> one period I thought of cutting the corpse into minute -fragments and destroying them by fire. At another I resolved to dig a -grave for it in the floor of the cellar. Again, I deliberated about -casting it into the well in the yard—about packing it in a box, as if -merchandise, with the usual arrangements, and so getting a porter to -take it from the house. Finally I hit upon what I considered a far -better expedient than either of these. I determined to wall it up in the -cellar—as the monks of the middle ages are recorded to have walled up -their victims.</p> - -<p>For a purpose such as this the cellar was well adapted. Its walls were -loosely constructed, and had lately been plastered throughout with a -rough plaster, which the dampness of the atmosphere had prevented from -hardening. Moreover, in one of the walls was a projection, caused by a -false chimney, or fireplace, that had been filled up, and made to -resemble the rest of the cellar. I made no doubt that I could readily -displace the bricks at this point, insert the corpse, and wall the whole -up as before, so that no eye could detect anything suspicious.</p> - -<p>And in this calculation I was not deceived. By means of a crowbar I -easily dislodged the bricks, and, having carefully deposited the body -against the inner wall, I propped it in that position, while, with -little trouble, I relaid the whole structure as it originally stood. -Having<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>{23}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/p023.jpg" width="482" height="500" alt="Image unavailable: “An extraordinary cat.”" title="" /> -<br /> -<span class="caption">“An extraordinary cat.”</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>{24}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">procured mortar, sand and hair with every possible precaution, I -prepared a plaster which could not be distinguished from the old, and -with this I very carefully went over the new brickwork. When I had -finished I felt satisfied that all was right. The wall did not present -the slightest appearance of having been disturbed. The rubbish on the -floor was picked up with the minutest care. I looked around triumphantly -and said to myself, “Here, at least, then, my labor has not been in -vain.”</p> - -<p>My next step was to look for the beast which had been the cause of so -much wretchedness, for I had at length firmly resolved to put it to -death. Had I been able to meet with it at the moment there could have -been no doubt of its fate; but it appeared that the crafty animal had -been alarmed at the violence of my previous anger and forebore to -present itself in my present mood. It is impossible to describe or to -imagine the deep, the blissful sense of relief which the absence of the -detested creature occasioned in my bosom. It did not make its appearance -during the night—and thus, for one night at least since its -introduction into the house, I soundly and tranquilly slept—aye, slept, -even with the burden of murder upon my soul!</p> - -<p>The second and the third day passed, and still my tormentor came not. -Once again I breathed as a free man. The monster, in terror, had fled<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>{25}</span> -the premises forever! I should behold it no more! My happiness was -supreme! The guilt of my dark deed disturbed me but little. Some few -inquiries had been made, but these had been readily answered. Even a -search had been instituted—but, of course, nothing was to be -discovered. I looked upon my future felicity as secured.</p> - -<p>Upon the fourth day of the assassination a party of the police came very -unexpectedly into the house and proceeded again to make a rigorous -investigation of the premises. Secure, however, in the inscrutability of -my place of concealment, I felt no embarrassment whatever. The officers -bade me accompany them in their search. They left no nook or corner -unexplored. At length, for the third or fourth time, they descended into -the cellar. I quivered not in a muscle. My heart beat as calmly as that -of one who slumbers in innocence. I walked the cellar from end to end. I -folded my arms upon my bosom and roamed easily to and fro. The police -were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to depart. The glee at my heart -was too strong to be restrained. I burned to say but one word, by way of -triumph, and to render doubly sure their assurance of my guiltlessness.</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen,” I said at last, as the party ascended the steps, “I delight -to have allayed your suspicions. I wish you all health and a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a>{26}</span> -more courtesy. By the by, gentlemen, this—this is a very well -constructed house.” (In the rabid desire to say something easily I -scarcely knew what I uttered at all.) “I may say an excellently well -constructed house. These walls—are you going, gentlemen?—these walls -are solidly put together;” and here, through the mere frenzy of bravado, -I rapped heavily, with a cane which I held in my hand, upon that very -portion of the brickwork behind which stood the corpse of the wife of my -bosom.</p> - -<p>But may God shield and deliver me from the fangs of the Arch Fiend! No -sooner had the reverberation of my blows sunk into silence than I was -answered by a voice from within the tomb!—by a cry, at first muffled -and broken, like the sobbing of a child, and then quickly swelling into -one long, loud and continuous scream, utterly anomalous and inhuman—a -howl!—a wailing shriek, half of horror and half of triumph, such as -might have arisen only out of hell, conjointly from the throats of the -damned in their agony and of the demons that exult in the damnation.</p> - -<p>Of my own thoughts it is folly to speak. Swooning, I staggered to the -opposite wall. For an instant the party upon the stairs remained -motionless, through extremity of terror and of awe. In the next a dozen -stout arms were toiling at the wall. It fell bodily. The corpse, already -getting decayed and clotted with gore, stood<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a>{27}</span> erect before the eyes of -the spectators. Upon its head, with red, extended mouth and solitary eye -of fire, sat the hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into murder, -and whose informing voice had consigned me to the hangman. I had walled -the monster up within the tomb!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>{28}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_FLAYED_HAND" id="THE_FLAYED_HAND"></a>THE FLAYED HAND.<br /><br /> -<small>BY GUY DE MAUPASSANT.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">One</span> evening about eight months ago I met with some college comrades at -the lodgings of our friend Louis R. We drank punch and smoked, talked of -literature and art, and made jokes like any other company of young men. -Suddenly the door flew open, and one who had been my friend since -boyhood burst in like a hurricane.</p> - -<p>“Guess where I come from?” he cried.</p> - -<p>“I bet on the Mabille,” responded one. “No,” said another, “you are too -gay; you come from borrowing money, from burying a rich uncle, or from -pawning your watch.” “You are getting sober,” cried a third, “and, as -you scented the punch in Louis’ room, you came up here to get drunk -again.”</p> - -<p>“You are all wrong,” he replied. “I come from P., in Normandy, where I -have spent eight days, and whence I have brought one of my friends, a -great criminal, whom I ask permission to present to you.”</p> - -<p>With these words he drew from his pocket a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a>{29}</span> long, black hand, from which -the skin had been stripped. It had been severed at the wrist. Its dry -and shriveled shape, and the narrow, yellowed nails still clinging to -the fingers, made it frightful to look upon. The muscles, which showed -that its first owner had been possessed of great strength, were bound in -place by a strip of parchment-like skin.</p> - -<p>“Just fancy,” said my friend, “the other day they sold the effects of an -old sorcerer, recently deceased, well known in all the country. Every -Saturday night he used to go to witch gatherings on a broomstick; he -practised the white magic and the black, gave blue milk to the cows, and -made them wear tails like that of the companion of Saint Anthony. The -old scoundrel always had a deep affection for this hand, which, he said, -was that of a celebrated criminal, executed in 1736 for having thrown -his lawful wife head first into a well—for which I do not blame -him—and then hanging in the belfry the priest who had married him. -After this double exploit he went away, and, during his subsequent -career, which was brief but exciting, he robbed twelve travelers, smoked -a score of monks in their monastery, and made a seraglio of a convent.”</p> - -<p>“But what are you going to do with this horror?” we cried.</p> - -<p>“Eh! parbleu! I will make it the handle to my door-bell and frighten my -creditors.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>{30}</span></p> - -<p>“My friend,” said Henry Smith, a big, phlegmatic Englishman, “I believe -that this hand is only a kind of Indian meat, preserved by a new -process; I advise you to make bouillon of it.”</p> - -<p>“Rail not, messieurs,” said, with the utmost sang froid, a medical -student who was three-quarters drunk, “but if you follow my advice, -Pierre, you will give this piece of human debris Christian burial, for -fear lest its owner should come to demand it. Then, too, this hand has -acquired some bad habits, for you know the proverb, ‘Who has killed will -kill.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“And who has drank will drink,” replied the host as he poured out a big -glass of punch for the student, who emptied it at a draught and slid -dead drunk under the table. His sudden dropping out of the company was -greeted with a burst of laughter, and Pierre, raising his glass and -saluting the hand, cried:</p> - -<p>“I drink to the next visit of thy master.”</p> - -<p>Then the conversation turned upon other subjects, and shortly afterward -each returned to his lodgings.</p> - -<p class="ast">* * * * *</p> - -<p>About two o’clock the next day, as I was passing Pierre’s door, I -entered and found him reading and smoking.</p> - -<p>“Well, how goes it?” said I. “Very well,” he responded. “And your hand?” -“My hand? Did you not see it on the bell-pull? I put it there<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>{31}</span> when I -returned home last night. But, apropos of this, what do you think? Some -idiot, doubtless to play a stupid joke on me, came ringing at my door -towards midnight. I demanded who was there, but as no one replied, I -went back to bed again, and to sleep.”</p> - -<p>At this moment the door opened and the landlord, a fat and extremely -impertinent person, entered without saluting us.</p> - -<p>“Sir,” said he, “I pray you to take away immediately that carrion which -you have hung to your bell-pull. Unless you do this I shall be compelled -to ask you to leave.”</p> - -<p>“Sir,” responded Pierre, with much gravity, “you insult a hand which -does not merit it. Know you that it belonged to a man of high breeding?”</p> - -<p>The landlord turned on his heel and made his exit, without speaking. -Pierre followed him, detached the hand and affixed it to the bell-cord -hanging in his alcove.</p> - -<p>“That is better,” he said. “This hand, like the ‘Brother, all must die,’ -of the Trappists, will give my thoughts a serious turn every night -before I sleep.”</p> - -<p>At the end of an hour I left him and returned to my own apartment.</p> - -<p>I slept badly the following night, was nervous and agitated, and several -times awoke with a start. Once I imagined, even, that a man had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a>{32}</span> broken -into my room, and I sprang up and searched the closets and under the -bed. Towards six o’clock in the morning I was commencing to doze at -last, when a loud knocking at my door made me jump from my couch. It was -my friend Pierre’s servant, half dressed, pale and trembling.</p> - -<p>“Ah, sir!” cried he, sobbing, “my poor master. Someone has murdered -him.”</p> - -<p>I dressed myself hastily and ran to Pierre’s lodgings. The house was -full of people disputing together, and everything was in a commotion. -Everyone was talking at the same time, recounting and commenting on the -occurrence in all sorts of ways. With great difficulty I reached the -bedroom, made myself known to those guarding the door and was permitted -to enter. Four agents of police were standing in the middle of the -apartment, pencils in hand, examining every detail, conferring in low -voices and writing from time to time in their note-books. Two doctors -were in consultation by the bed on which lay the unconscious form of -Pierre. He was not dead, but his face was fixed in an expression of the -most awful terror. His eyes were open their widest, and the dilated -pupils seemed to regard fixedly, with unspeakable horror, something -unknown and frightful. His hands were clinched. I raised the quilt, -which covered his body from the chin downward, and saw on his neck, -deeply<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>{33}</span> sunk in the flesh, the marks of fingers. Some drops of blood -spotted his shirt. At that moment one thing struck me. I chanced to -notice that the shriveled hand was no longer attached to the bell-cord. -The doctors had doubtless removed it to avoid the comments of those -entering the chamber where the wounded man lay, because the appearance -of this hand was indeed frightful. I did not inquire what had become of -it.</p> - -<p>I now clip from a newspaper of the next day the story of the crime with -all the details that the police were able to procure:</p> - -<p>“A frightful attempt was made yesterday on the life of young M. Pierre -B., student, who belongs to one of the best families in Normandy. He -returned home about ten o’clock in the evening, and excused his valet, -Bouvin, from further attendance upon him, saying that he felt fatigued -and was going to bed. Towards midnight Bouvin was suddenly awakened by -the furious ringing of his master’s bell. He was afraid, and lighted a -lamp and waited. The bell was silent about a minute, then rang again -with such vehemence that the domestic, mad with fright, flew from his -room to awaken the concierge, who ran to summon the police, and, at the -end of about fifteen minutes, two policemen forced open the door. A -horrible sight met their eyes. The furniture was overturned, giving -evidence of a fearful<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a>{34}</span> struggle between the victim and his assailant. In -the middle of the room, upon his back, his body rigid, with livid face -and frightfully dilated eyes, lay, motionless, young Pierre B., bearing -upon his neck the deep imprints of five fingers. Dr. Bourdean was called -immediately, and his report says that the aggressor must have been -possessed of prodigious strength and have had an extraordinarily thin -and sinewy hand, because the fingers left in the flesh of the victim -five holes like those from a pistol ball, and had penetrated until they -almost met. There is no clue to the motive of the crime or to its -perpetrator. The police are making a thorough investigation.”</p> - -<p>The following appeared in the same newspaper next day:</p> - -<p>“M. Pierre B., the victim of the frightful assault of which we published -an account yesterday, has regained consciousness after two hours of the -most assiduous care by Dr. Bourdean. His life is not in danger, but it -is strongly feared that he has lost his reason. No trace has been found -of his assailant.”</p> - -<p>My poor friend was indeed insane. For seven months I visited him daily -at the hospital where we had placed him, but he did not recover the -light of reason. In his delirium strange words escaped him, and, like -all madmen, he had one fixed idea: he believed himself continually -pursued by a specter. One day they came for me in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>{35}</span> haste, saying he was -worse, and when I arrived I found him dying. For two hours he remained -very calm, then, suddenly, rising from his bed in spite of our efforts, -he cried, waving his arms as if a prey to the most awful terror: “Take -it away! Take it away! It strangles me! Help! Help!” Twice he made the -circuit of the room, uttering horrible screams, then fell face downward, -dead.</p> - -<p class="ast">* * * * *</p> - -<p>As he was an orphan I was charged to take his body to the little village -of P., in Normandy, where his parents were buried. It was the place from -which he had arrived the evening he found us drinking punch in Louis -R.’s room, when he had presented to us the flayed hand. His body was -inclosed in a leaden coffin, and four days afterwards I walked sadly -beside the old cure, who had given him his first lessons, to the little -cemetery where they dug his grave. It was a beautiful day, and sunshine -from a cloudless sky flooded the earth. Birds sang from the blackberry -bushes where many a time when we were children we had stolen to eat the -fruit. Again I saw Pierre and myself creeping along behind the hedge and -slipping through the gap that we knew so well, down at the end of the -little plot where they bury the poor. Again we would return to the house -with cheeks and lips black with the juice of the berries we had eaten. I -looked at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>{36}</span> the bushes; they were covered with fruit; mechanically I -picked some and bore it to my mouth. The cure had opened his breviary, -and was muttering his prayers in a low voice. I heard at the end of the -walk the spades of the grave-diggers who were opening the tomb. Suddenly -they called out, the cure closed his book, and we went to see what they -wished of us. They had found a coffin; in digging a stroke of the -pickaxe had started the cover, and we perceived within a skeleton of -unusual stature, lying on its back, its hollow eyes seeming yet to -menace and defy us. I was troubled, I know not why, and almost afraid.</p> - -<p>“Hold!” cried one of the men, “look there! One of the rascal’s hands has -been severed at the wrist. Ah, here it is!” and he picked up from beside -the body a huge withered hand, and held it out to us.</p> - -<p>“See,” cried the other, laughing, “see how he glares at you, as if he -would spring at your throat to make you give him back his hand.”</p> - -<p>“Go,” said the cure, “leave the dead in peace, and close the coffin. We -will make poor Pierre’s grave elsewhere.”</p> - -<p>The next day all was finished, and I returned to Paris, after having -left fifty francs with the old cure for masses to be said for the repose -of the soul of him whose sepulchre we had troubled.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>{37}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_VENGEANCE_OF_A_TREE" id="THE_VENGEANCE_OF_A_TREE"></a>THE VENGEANCE OF A TREE.<br /><br /> -<small>BY ELEANOR F. LEWIS.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Through</span> the windows of Jim Daly’s saloon, in the little town of C——, -the setting sun streamed in yellow patches, lighting up the glasses -scattered on the tables and the faces of several men who were gathered -near the bar. Farmers mostly they were, with a sprinkling of -shopkeepers, while prominent among them was the village editor, and all -were discussing a startling piece of news that had spread through the -town and its surroundings. The tidings that Walter Stedman, a laborer on -Albert Kelsey’s ranch, had assaulted and murdered his employer’s -daughter, had reached them, and had spread universal horror among the -people.</p> - -<p>A farmer declared that he had seen the deed committed as he walked -through a neighboring lane, and, having always been noted for his -cowardice, instead of running to the girl’s aid, had hailed a party of -miners who were returning from their mid-day meal through a field near -by.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>{38}</span> When they reached the spot, however, where Stedman (as they -supposed) had done his black deed, only the girl lay there, in the -stillness of death. Her murderer had taken the opportunity to fly. The -party had searched the woods of the Kelsey estate, and just as they were -nearing the house itself the appearance of Walter Stedman, walking in a -strangely unsteady manner toward it, made them quicken their pace.</p> - -<p>He was soon in custody, although he had protested his innocence of the -crime. He said that he had just seen the body himself on his way to the -station, and that when they had found him he was going to the house for -help. But they had laughed at his story and had flung him into the tiny, -stifling calaboose of the town.</p> - -<p>What were their proofs? Walter Stedman, a young fellow of about -twenty-six, had come from the city to their quiet town, just when times -were at their hardest, in search of work. The most of the men living in -the town were honest fellows, doing their work faithfully, when they -could get it, and when they had socially asked Stedman to have a drink -with them, he had refused in rather a scornful manner. “That infernal -city chap,” he was called, and their hate and envy increased in strength -when Albert Kelsey had employed him in preference to any of themselves. -As time went on, the story of Stedman’s admiration for Margaret Kelsey -had gone afloat, with the added<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>{39}</span> information that his employer’s -daughter had repulsed him, saying that she would not marry a common -laborer. So Stedman, when this news reached his employer’s ears, was -discharged, and this, then, was his revenge! For them, these proofs were -sufficient to pronounce him guilty.</p> - -<p>Yet that afternoon, as Stedman, crouched on the floor of the calaboose, -grew hopeless in the knowledge that no one would believe his story, and -that his undeserved punishment would be swift and sure, a tramp, -boarding a freight car several miles from the town, sped away from the -spot where his crime had been committed, and knew that forever its -shadow would follow him.</p> - -<p>From the tiny window of his prison Walter Stedman could see the red glow -of the heavens that betokened the setting of the sun. So the red sun of -his life was soon to set, a life that had been innocent of all crime, -and that now was to be ended for a deed that he had never committed. -Most prominent of all the visions that swept through his mind was that -of Margaret Kelsey, lying as he had first found her, fresh from the -hands of her murderer. But there was another of a more tender nature. -How long he and Margaret had tried to keep their secret, until Walter -could be promoted to a higher position, so that he could ask for her -hand with no fear of the father’s antagonism! Then came the remembrance -of an afternoon meeting between the two<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>{40}</span> in the woods of the Kelsey -estate—how, just as they were parting, Walter had heard footsteps near -them, and, glancing sharply around, saw an evil, scowling, murderous -face peering through the brush. He had started toward it, but the owner -of the countenance had taken himself hurriedly off.</p> - -<p>The gossiping townspeople had misconstrued this romance, and when Albert -Kelsey had heard of this clandestine meeting from the man who was later -on to appear as a leader of the mob, and that he had discharged Stedman, -they had believed that the young man had formally proposed and had been -rejected. But justice had gone wrong, as it had done innumerable times -before, and will again. An innocent man was to be hanged, even without -the comfort of a trial, while the man who was guilty was free to wander -where he would.</p> - -<p>That autumn night the darkness came quickly, and only the stars did -their best to light the scene. A body of men, all masked, and having as -a leader one who had ever since Stedman’s arrival in town, cherished a -secret hatred of the young man, dragged Stedman from the calaboose and -tramped through the town, defying all, defying even God himself. Along -the highway, and into Farmer Brown’s “cross cut,” they went, vigilantly -guarding their prisoner, who, with the lanterns lighting up his haggard -face, walked<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>{41}</span> among them with the lagging step of utter hopelessness.</p> - -<p>“That’s a good tree,” their leader said, presently, stopping and -pointing out a spreading oak; when the slipknot was adjusted and Stedman -had stepped on the box, he added: “If you’ve got anything to say, you’d -better say it now.”</p> - -<p>“I am innocent, I swear before God,” the doomed man answered; “I never -took the life of Margaret Kelsey.”</p> - -<p>“Give us your proof,” jeered the leader, and when Stedman kept a -despairing silence, he laughed shortly.</p> - -<p>“Ready, men!” he gave the order. The box was kicked aside, and -then—only a writhing body swung to and fro in the gloom.</p> - -<p>In front of the men stood their leader, watching the contortions of the -body with silent glee. “I’ll tell you a secret, boys,” he said suddenly. -“I was after that poor murdered girl myself. A d—— little chance I -had; but, by ——, he had just as little!”</p> - -<p>A pause—then: “He’s shunted this earth. Cut him down, you fellows!”</p> - -<p class="ast">* * * * *</p> - -<p>“It’s no use, son. I’ll give up the blasted thing as a bad job. There’s -something queer about that there tree. Do you see how its branches -balance it? We have cut the trunk nearly in two, but it won’t come down. -There’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>{42}</span> plenty of others around; we’ll take one of them. If I’d a long -rope with me I’d get that tree down, and yet the way the thing stands it -would be risking a fellow’s life to climb it. It’s got the devil in it, -sure.”</p> - -<p>So old Farmer Brown shouldered his axe and made for another tree, his -son following. They had sawed and chopped and chopped and sawed, and yet -the tall white oak, with its branches jutting out almost as regularly as -if done by the work of a machine, stood straight and firm.</p> - -<p>Farmer Brown, well known for his weak, cowardly spirit, who in beholding -the murder of Albert Kelsey’s daughter, had in his fright mistaken the -criminal, now in his superstition let the oak stand, because its -well-balanced position saved it from falling, when other trees would -have been down. And so this tree, the same one to which an innocent man -had been hanged, was left—for other work.</p> - -<p>It was a bleak, rainy night—such a night as can be found only in -central California. The wind howled like a thousand demons, and lashed -the trees together in wild embraces. Now and then the weird “hoot, -hoot!” of an owl came softly from the distance in the lulls of the -storm, while the barking of coyotes woke the echoes of the hills into -sounds like fiendish laughter.</p> - -<p>In the wind and rain a man fought his path through the bush and into -Farmer Brown’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a>{43}</span> “cross cut,” as the shortest way home. Suddenly he -stopped, trembling, as if held by some unseen impulse. Before him rose -the white oak, wavering and swaying in the storm.</p> - -<p>“Good God! it’s the tree I swung Stedman from!” he cried, and a strange -fear thrilled him.</p> - -<p>His eyes were fixed on it, held by some undefinable fascination. Yes, -there on one of the longest branches a small piece of rope still -dangled. And then, to the murderer’s excited vision, this rope seemed to -lengthen, to form at the end into a slipknot, a knot that encircled a -purple neck, while below it writhed and swayed the body of a man!</p> - -<p>“Damn him!” he muttered, starting toward the hanging form, as if about -to help the rope in its work of strangulation; “will he forever follow -me? And yet he deserved it, the black-hearted villain! He took her -life——”</p> - -<p>He never finished the sentence. The white oak, towering above him in its -strength, seemed to grow like a frenzied, living creature. There was a -sudden splitting sound, then came a crash, and under the fallen tree lay -Stedman’s murderer, crushed and mangled.</p> - -<p>From between the broken trunk and the stump that was left, a gray, dim -shape sprang out, and sped past the man’s still form, away into the wild -blackness of the night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>{44}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_PARLOR-CAR_GHOST" id="THE_PARLOR-CAR_GHOST"></a>THE PARLOR-CAR GHOST.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">All</span> draped with blue denim—the seaside cottage of my friend, Sara Pyne. -She asked me to go there with her when she opened it to have it set in -order for the summer. She confessed that she felt a trifle nervous at -the idea of entering it alone. And I am always ready for an excursion. -So much blue denim rather surprised me, because blue is not -complimentary to Sara’s complexion—she always wears some shade of red, -by preference. She perceived my wonder; she is very near-sighted, and -therefore sees everything by some sort of sixth sense.</p> - -<p>“You do not like my portieres and curtains and table-covers,” said she. -“Neither do I. But I did it to accommodate. And now he rests well in his -grave, I hope.”</p> - -<p>“Whose grave, for pity’s sake?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. J. Billington Price’s.”</p> - -<p>“And who is he? He doesn’t sound interesting.”</p> - -<p>“Then I will tell you about him,” said Sara, taking a seat directly in -front of one of those curtains. “Last autumn I was leaving this place -for New York, traveling on the fast express train<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>{45}</span> known as the Flying -Yankee. Of course, I thought of the Flying Dutchman and Wagner’s musical -setting of the uncanny legend, and how different things are in these -days of steam, etc. Then I looked out of the window at the landscape, -the horizon that seemed to wheel in a great curve as the train sped on. -Every now and then I had an impression at the ‘tail of the eye’ that a -man was sitting in a chair three or four numbers in front of me on the -opposite side of the car. Each time that I saw this shape I looked at -the chair and ascertained that it was unoccupied. But it was an odd -trick of vision. I raised my lorgnette, and the chair showed emptier -than before. There was nobody in it, certainly. But the more I knew that -it was vacant the more plainly I saw the man. Always with the corner of -my eye. It made me nervous. When passengers entered the car I dreaded -lest they might take that seat. What would happen if they should? A bag -was put in the chair—that made me uncomfortable. The bag was removed at -the next station. Then a baby was placed in the seat. It began to laugh -as though someone had gently tickled it. There was something odd about -that chair—thirteen was its number. When I looked away from it the -impression was strong upon me that some person sitting there was -watching me.</p> - -<p>“Really, it would not do to humor such fancies. So I touched the -electric button, asked the porter<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a>{46}</span> to bring me a table, and taking from -my bag a pack of cards, proceeded to divert myself with a game of -patience. I was puzzling where to put a seven of spades. ‘Where can it -go?’ I murmured to myself. A voice behind me prompted: ‘Play the four of -diamonds on the five, and you can do it.’ I started. The only occupants -of the car, besides me, were a bridal couple, a mother with three little -children, and a typical preacher of one of the straitest sects. Who had -spoken? ‘Play up the four, madam,’ repeated this voice.</p> - -<p>“I looked fearfully over my shoulder. At first I saw a bluish cloud, -like cigar smoke, but inodorous. Then the vision cleared, and I saw a -young man whom I knew by a subtle intuition to be the occupant, seen and -not seen, of chair number thirteen. Evidently he was a traveling -salesman—and a ghost. Of course, a drummer’s ghost sounds -ridiculous—they’re so extremely alive! Or else you would expect a dead -drummer to be particularly dead and not ‘walk.’ This was a most -commonplace-looking ghost, cordial, pushing, businesslike. At the same -time, his face had an expression of utter despair and horror which made -him still more preposterous. Of course it is not nice to let a stranger -speak to one, even on so impersonal a topic as a four of diamonds. But a -ghost—there can’t be any rule of etiquette about talking with a ghost! -My dear, it was dreadful! That forward creature showed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a>{47}</span> me how to play -all the cards, and then begged me to lay them out again, in order that -he might give me some clever points. I was too much amazed and disturbed -to speak. I could only place the cards at his suggestion. This I did so -as not to appear to be listening to the empty air, and be supposed to be -a crazy woman. Presently the ghost spoke again, and told me his story.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Madam,’ he said, ‘I have been riding back and forth on this car ever -since February 22, 189—. Seven months and eleven days. All this time I -have not exchanged a word with anyone. For a drummer, that is pretty -hard, you may believe! You know the story of the Flying Dutchman? Well, -that is very nearly my case. A curse is upon me and will not be removed -until some kind soul——. But I’m getting ahead of my text. That day -there were four of us, traveling for different houses. One of the boys -was in wool, one in baking powder, one in boots and shoes, and myself in -cotton goods. We met on the road, took seats together and fell into -talking shop.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Those fellows told big lies about their sales, Washington’s Birthday -though it was. The baking powder man raised the amount of the bills of -goods which he had sold better than a whole can of his stuff could have -done. I admitted the straight truth, that I had not yet been able to -make a sale. And then I swore—not in a light-minded,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>{48}</span> chipper style of -verbal trimmings, but a great, round, heaven-defying oath—that I would -sell a case of blue denims on that trip if it took me forever. We became -dry with talk, and when the train stopped at Rivermouth, we went out to -have some beer. It is good there, you know—pardon me, I forgot that I -was speaking to a lady. Well, we had to run to get aboard. I missed my -footing, fell under the wheels, and the next thing that I knew they were -holding an inquest over my remains; while I, disemboweled, was sitting -on a corner of the undertaker’s table, wondering which of the coroner’s -jury was likely to want a case of blue denims.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Then I remembered my wicked oath, and understood that I was a soul -doomed to wander until I could succeed in selling that bill of goods. I -spoke once or twice, offering the denims under value, but nobody noticed -me. Verdict: accidental death; negligence of deceased; railroad -corporation not to blame; deceased got out for beer at his own risk. The -other drummers took charge of the remains, and wrote a beautiful letter -to my relatives about my social qualities and my impressive -conversation. I wish it had been less impressive that time! I might have -lied about my sales, or I might have said that I hoped for better luck. -But after that oath there was nothing for it. Back and forth, back and -forth, on this road, in chair number<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a>{49}</span> thirteen, to all eternity. Nobody -suspects my presence. They sit on my knees—I’m playing in luck when it -is a nice baby as it was this afternoon! They pile wraps, bags, even -railway literature on me. They play cards under my nose—and what -duffers some of them are! You, madam, are the first person who has -perceived me; and therefore I ventured to speak to you, meaning no -offense. I can see that you are sorry for me. Now, if you recall the -story of the Flying Dutchman, he was saved by the charity of a good -woman. In fact, Senta married him. Now I’m not asking anything of that -size. I see that you wear a wedding ring, and no doubt you make some -man’s happiness. I wasn’t a marrying man myself, and, naturally, am not -a marrying ghost. And that has nothing to do with the matter anyway. But -if you could—I don’t suppose you would have any use for them—but if -you were disposed to do a turn of good, solid, Christian charity—I -should be everlastingly grateful, and you may have that case of denims -at $72.50. And that quality is quoted to-day at $80. Does it go, madam?’</p> - -<p>“The speech of the poor ghost was not very eloquent, but his eyes had an -intense, eager glare, which was terrible. Something—pity, fear, I do -not know what—compelled me. I decided to do without that white and gold -evening cloak. Instead, I gave $72.50 to the ghost and took from<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a>{50}</span> him a -receipt for the sum, signed J. Billington Price. Then he smiled -contentedly, thanked me with emotion, and returned to chair number -thirteen. Several times on the journey, although I did not perceive him -again, I felt dazed. When the train arrived at New York, and I, with the -other passengers, dismounted, it seemed to me that a strong hand passed -under my elbow, steadying me down the steps. As I walked the length of -the station my bag—not heavy at any time—appeared to become -weightless. I believe that the parlor-car ghost walked beside me, -carrying the bag, whose handle still remained in my other hand. Indeed, -once or twice I thought I felt the touch of cold fingers against mine. -Since then I have no reason to suppose that the poor ghost is not at -rest. I hope he is.</p> - -<p>“But I never expected nor wished for the blue denims. The next day, -however, a dray belonging to a great wholesale house backed up to our -door and delivered a case of denims, with a receipted bill for the same. -What was I to do? I could not go about selling blue denims; I could not -give them away without exciting comment. So I furnished the cottage with -them—and you know the effect on my complexion. Pity me, dear! And -credit me, frivolous woman as I am, with having saved a soul at the -expense of my own vanity. My story is told. What do you think about -it?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>{51}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="GHOST_OF_BUCKSTOWN_INN" id="GHOST_OF_BUCKSTOWN_INN"></a>GHOST OF BUCKSTOWN INN.<br /><br /> -<small>BY ARNOLD M. ANDERSON.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Several</span> travel-worn drummers sat in the lobby exchanging yarns. It was -Rodney Green’s turn, and he looked wise and began his tale.</p> - -<p>“I don’t claim, by any means, that the belief in ghosts is a general -thing in Arkansas, but I do say that I had an experience out there a few -years ago.</p> - -<p>“It was late in the fall, and I happened to be in the village of -Buckstown, which desecrates a very limited portion of the State. The -town is about as small and dirty a place as ever I saw, and the -Buckstown Inn is not much above the general character of the place. The -region is inhabited by natives who still cling to all sorts of foolish -superstitions. The inn, in the ante-bellum days, was kept by one who was -said to be the meanest and most crabbed of mortals. The old demon was as -miserly as he was mean, and all his narrow life he hoarded his filthy -lucre with fiendish greed. Report had it also that he had even murdered -his patrons in their beds for their<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>{52}</span> money. What the facts actually were -I don’t know, but even to this day the old inn is held in suspicion. A -lingering effect of former horrors still clouds its memory.</p> - -<p>“The present proprietor, Bunk Watson—his real name is Bunker, I -believe—is an altogether different sort of chap—a Southern type, in -fact—one of those shiftless, heedless, happy-go-lucky mortals who loves -strong whiskey and who chews an enormous quid of black tobacco and -smokes a corncob pipe at the same time.</p> - -<p>“When the former keeper ‘shuffled off,’ his property fell to a distant -relative, the present keeper, who, with his family, immediately moved in -from a neighboring hamlet and took possession. It was well known that -the old proprietor had accumulated considerable wealth during his -sojourn among the living, but all efforts to discover any treasure upon -the premises had failed, and now the idea of ever finding it was -practically given up. As far as Bunk was concerned, the matter troubled -him little. He had a hard-working wife who ran things the best she could -under the circumstances, and saw that his meals were forthcoming at -their respective intervals. What more could he wish? Why should he care -if there was a treasure buried upon his place? Indeed, it would have -been a sore puzzle for him to know what to do with a fortune unless -perhaps his wife came to his aid.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a>{53}</span></p> - -<p>“Among the stories that hovered in the history of the Buckstown Inn was -one which involved a ghost. In the room where the former keeper had died -peculiar noises were heard at unearthly hours: sighing, moaning, and, in -fact, all the other indications which point to the existence of ghosts, -were said to be present. On account of this the chamber had long since -been abandoned.</p> - -<p>“I listened with keen interest to the wonderful tales about the haunted -room, and then suddenly resolved to investigate—to sleep in that -chamber that very night and see for myself all that was to be seen. I -told Buck of my purpose. He shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, but -instead of warning me and offering a flood of protests, as I expected, -he merely took his pipe from his mouth, let fly a quart or so of -yellowish juice from between a pair of brown-stained lips, and, opening -one corner of his wide mouth, lazily called out: ‘Jane.’ His wife -appeared, and he intimated that I should settle the matter with the ‘old -woman.’ The prospect of a fee persuaded the wife, and off she went to -arrange for my bed in that ill-fated room.</p> - -<p>“At nine o’clock that evening I bid the family good-night, took my -candle, ascended the rickety stairs and entered the chamber of horrors. -The atmosphere was heavy and had a peculiar odor that was not at all -pleasing. However, I latched the door and was soon in bed. Having -propped<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a>{54}</span> myself up with pillows, I was prepared to await the coming of -the ghost.</p> - -<p>“Overhead the dusty rafters, which once had experienced the sensation of -being whitewashed, but which were now a dirty, yellowish color, were -hung with a fantastic array of cobwebs. The flickering light of the -candle reflected upon the walls and against the ceiling a pyramid of -grotesque shapes, and with this effect being continually disturbed by -the swaying cobwebs, the whole caused the room to appear rather ghostly -after all, and especially so to an imaginative mind.</p> - -<p>“I waited and waited for hours, it seemed, but still no ghost. Perhaps -it was afraid of my candle light, so I blew it out. No sooner had I done -this and settled back in bed again than a white hand appeared through -the door, then a whole figure—at last the ghost had come, a white and -sheeted ghost!</p> - -<p>“It had come right through the door, although it was locked, and now it -advanced toward the bed. Raising its long, white arm, it pointed a bony -finger at me, and then commanded: ‘Come with me!’ Thereupon it turned to -the door, while instantly I jumped out of bed to follow. Some unseen -power compelled me to obey. The door flew open and the ghost led me down -the stairs, through long halls into the cellar, through mysterious -underground corridors, upstairs<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a>{55}</span> again, in and out rooms which I never -dreamed were to be found in that old rambling inn. Finally, through a -small door in the rear, we left the house. I was in my sleeping -garments, but no matter, I had to follow.</p> - -<p>“The white form, with a slow and measured tread and as silent as death, -led the way into the orchard. There, under a tree at the farther end, it -pointed to the ground, and in the same ghostly tones before used, said:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Here you will find a great treasure buried.’</p> - -<p>“The ghost then disappeared, and I saw it no more. I stood dazed and -trembling. Upon recovering my wits I started to dig, but the chill of -the night air and the scantiness of my night robes made such labor -impracticable. So I decided to leave some mark to identify the place and -come around again at daybreak. I reached up and broke off a limb. -Overcome with my night’s exertions I slept the next morning until a loud -rapping on my door and a croaking voice warned me that it was noon.</p> - -<p>“I had intended to leave Buckstown Inn that day, but, prompted by -curiosity and anxious to investigate, I unpacked my gripsack for a -comfortable stay.</p> - -<p>“You must understand that this was my first experience with a ghost, and -I feared I might never see another.</p> - -<p>“At breakfast my landlady waited on me in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>{56}</span> silence, though once I -detected her eyes following me with a peculiar expression. She wanted to -ask me how I enjoyed the night, but I would not gratify her by -volunteering a word.</p> - -<p>“My host was more outspoken.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Reckon ye didn’t get much sleep,’ said he, with a queer smile.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Did you hear anything?’ I asked.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Well, I did—ye-es,’ he said, with a drawl. ‘But ye didn’t disturb me -any. I knew ye’d hev trouble when ye went in thet room ter sleep.’</p> - -<p>“That afternoon I slipped out to the tree. But to my amazement I found -that the twig I had broken from the branches was gone. Finally I found -under the lower trunk of an apple tree an open place from which a small -branch had evidently been wrested. But on looking further, I discovered -that every apple tree in the orchard had been similarly disfigured.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>More mysterious than ever,’ I said; ‘but to-night shall decide.’</p> - -<p>“That night I pleaded weariness, which no one seemed inclined to -question, and sought my couch earlier.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Goin’ ter try it again?’ asked my host.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Yes; and I’ll stay all winter but what I’ll get even with that ghost,’ -I said.</p> - -<p>“That night I kept the candle burning until midnight, when I blew it -out.</p> - -<p>“Instantly the room was flooded with a soft<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a>{57}</span> light, and at the foot of -the bed stood my ghost, the identical ghost of last night.</p> - -<p>“Again the bony finger beckoned and a sepulchral voice whispered, -‘Follow me!’ I sprang from the bed, but the figure darted ahead of me. -It flew through the doorway and down the stairs, and I after it. At the -foot of the staircase an unseen hand reached forward and caught my foot -and I fell sprawling headlong.</p> - -<p>“But in a second I was on my feet and pursuing the ghost. It had gained -on me a few yards, but I was quicker, and just as we reached the outside -door I nearly touched its robes. They sent a chill through my frame, and -I nearly gave up the pursuit.</p> - -<p>“As it passed through the doorway it turned and gave me one look, and I -caught the same malignant light in its eyes that I remembered from the -night before.</p> - -<p>“In the open orchard I felt sure I could catch it.</p> - -<p>“But my ghost had no intention of allowing me any such opportunity. To -my disgust, it darted backward and into the house, slamming the door in -my face.</p> - -<p>“In my frenzy of fear and chagrin I threw myself against the oaken door -with such force that its rusty old hinges yielded and I landed in the -big front room of the inn just in time to see the white skirts of the -ghost flit up the stairs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>{58}</span></p> - -<p>“Upstairs I flew after it, and into an old chamber. There, huddled in a -corner, I saw it. In the minute’s delay it had secured a lighted candle -and, as I entered, it advanced to daunt me with bony arm upraised to a -great height.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Caught!’ I cried, throwing my arms around the figure. And I had made -the acquaintance of a real live ghost.</p> - -<p>“The white robes fell, and I saw revealed my hostess of Buckstown Inn.</p> - -<p>“Next morning, when I threatened to call the police, she confessed to me -that she masqueraded as a ghost to draw visitors to the out-of-the-way -old place, and that she found its tale of being haunted highly -profitable to her.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a>{59}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_BURGLARS_GHOST" id="THE_BURGLARS_GHOST"></a>THE BURGLAR’S GHOST.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">I am</span> not an imaginative man, and no one who knows me can say that I have -ever indulged in sentimental ideas upon any subject. I am rather -predisposed, in fact, to look at everything from a purely practical -standpoint, and this quality has been further developed in me by the -fact that for twenty years I have been an active member of the detective -police force at Westford, a large town in one of our most important -manufacturing districts. A policeman, as most people will readily -believe, has to deal with so much practical life that he has small -opportunity for developing other than practical qualities, and he is -more apt to believe in tangible things than in ideas of a somewhat -superstitious nature. However, I was once under the firm conviction that -I had been largely helped up the ladder of life by the ghost of a once -well-known burglar. I have told the story to many, and have heard it -commented upon in various fashions. Whether the comments were satirical -or practical, it made no difference to me; I had a firm faith at that -time in the truth of my tale.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a>{60}</span></p> - -<p>Eighteen years ago I was a plain clothes officer at Westford. I was then -twenty-three years of age, and very anxious about two matters. First and -foremost I desired promotion; second, I wished to be married. Of course -I was more eager about the second than the first, because my sweetheart, -Alice Moore, was one of the prettiest and cleverest girls in the town; -but I put promotion first for the simple reason that with me promotion -must come before marriage. Knowing this, I was always on the lookout for -a chance of distinguishing myself, and I paid such attention to my -duties that my superiors began to notice me, and foretold a successful -career for me in the future.</p> - -<p>One evening in the last week of September, 1873, I was sitting in my -lodgings wondering what I could do to earn the promotion which I so -earnestly wished for. Things were quiet just then in Westford, and I am -afraid I half wished that something dreadful might occur if I only could -have a share in it. I was pursuing this train of thought when I suddenly -heard a voice say, “Good evening, officer.”</p> - -<p>I turned sharply around. It was almost dusk and my lamp was not lighted. -For all that, I could see clearly enough a man who was sitting by a -chest of drawers that stood between the door and the window. His chair -stood between the drawers and the door, and I concluded that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a>{61}</span> had -quietly entered my room and seated himself before addressing me.</p> - -<p>“Good evening!” I replied. “I didn’t hear you come in.”</p> - -<p>He laughed when I said that—a low, chuckling, rather sly laugh. “No,” -he said, “I dessay not, officer. I’m a very quiet sort of person. You -might say, in fact, noiseless. Just so.”</p> - -<p>I looked at him narrowly, feeling considerably surprised and astonished -at his presence. He was a thickly built man, with a square face and -heavy chin. His nose was small, but aggressive; his eyes were little and -overshadowed by heavy eyebrows; I could see them twinkle when he spoke. -As for his dress, it was in keeping with his face.</p> - -<p>He wore a rough suit of woolen or frieze; a thick, gayly colored Belcher -neckerchief encircled his bull-like throat, and in his big hands he -continually twirled and twisted a fur cap, made apparently out of the -skin of some favorite dog. As he sat there smiling at me and saying -nothing, it made me feel uncomfortable.</p> - -<p>“What do you want with me?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Just a little matter o’ business,” he answered.</p> - -<p>“You should have gone to the office,” I said. “We’re not supposed to do -business at home.”</p> - -<p>“Right you are, guv’nor,” he replied; “but I wanted to see you. It’s you -that’s got to do my job. If I’d ha’ seen the superintendent he might<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>{62}</span> -ha’ put somebody else on to it. That wouldn’t ha’ suited me. You see, -officer, you’re young, and nat’rally eager-like for promotion. Eh?”</p> - -<p>“What is it you want?” I inquired again.</p> - -<p>“Ain’t you eager to be promoted?” he reiterated. “Ain’t you now, -officer?”</p> - -<p>I saw no reason why I should conceal the fact, even from this strange -visitor. I admitted that I was eager for promotion.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” he said, with a satisfied smile; “I’m glad o’ that. It’ll make you -all the keener. Now, officer, you listen to me. I’m a-goin’ to put you -on to a nice little job. Ah! I dessay you’ll be a sergeant before long, -you will. You’ll be complimented and praised for your clever conduck in -this ’ere affair. Mark my words if you ain’t.”</p> - -<p>“Out with it,” I said, fancying I saw through the man’s meaning. “You’re -going to split on some of your pals, I suppose, and you’ll want a -reward.”</p> - -<p>He shook his head. “A reward,” he said, “wouldn’t be no use to me at -all—no, not if it was a thousand pounds. No, it ain’t nothing to do -with reward. But now, officer, did you ever hear of Light Toed Jim?”</p> - -<p>Light Toed Jim! I should have been a poor detective if I had not. Why, -the man known under that sobriquet was one of the cleverest burglars and -thieves in England, and had enjoyed such a famous career that his name -was a household<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a>{63}</span> word. At that moment there was an additional interest -attached to him. He had been convicted of burglary at the Northminster -assizes in 1871, and sentenced to ten years’ penal servitude. After -serving nearly two years of his time he had escaped from Portland, -getting away in such clever fashion that he had never been heard of -since. Where he was no one could say; but lately there had been a strong -suspicion among the police that Light Toed Jim was at his old tricks -again.</p> - -<p>“Light Toed Jim!” I repeated. “I should think so. Why, what do you know -about him?”</p> - -<p>He smiled and nodded his head. “Light Toed Jim,” said he, “is in -Westford at this ’ere hidentical moment. Listen to me, officer. Light -Toed Jim is a-goin’ to crack a crib to-night. Said crib is the mansion -of Miss Singleton, that ’ere rich old lady as lives out on the Mapleton -Road. You know her—awfully rich, with naught but women servants and -animals about the place. There’s some very valyable plate there. That’s -what Light Toed Jim’s after. He’ll get in through the scullery window -about 1 a. m., then he’ll pass through the back and front kitchens and -into the butler’s pantry—only it’s a butleress, ’cos there ain’t no men -at all—and there he’ll set to work on the safe. Some of his late pals -in Portland give him the tip about this ’ere job.”</p> - -<p>“How did you come to hear of it?” I asked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a>{64}</span></p> - -<p>“Never mind, guv’nor. You wouldn’t understand. Now, I wants you to be up -there to-night and to nab Light Toed Jim red-handed, so to speak. It’ll -mean promotion for you, and it’ll suit me down to the ground. You wants -to be about and to watch him enter. Then follow him and dog him. And be -armed, officer, for Jim’ll fight like a tiger if you don’t draw his -teeth first.”</p> - -<p>“Now, look here, my man,” said I, “this is all very well, but it’s all -irregular. You must just tell me who you are and how you come to be in -Light Toed Jim’s secrets, and I’ll put it down in black and white.”</p> - -<p>I turned away from him to get my writing materials. I was not half a -minute with my back to him, but when I turned round he was gone. The -door was shut, but I had heard no sound from it either opening or -shutting. Quick as thought I darted to it, tore it wide open, and looked -down the narrow staircase. There was no one there. I ran hastily -downstairs into the passage, and found my landlady, Mrs. Marriner, -standing at the open door with a female friend. “Mrs. Marriner,” I said, -breaking in upon their conversation, “which way did that man go who came -downstairs just now?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marriner looked at me strangely. “There ain’t been no man come -downstairs, Mr. Parker,” said she; “leastways, not this good -three-quarters of an hour, which me and Missis Higgins ’ere, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a>{65}</span> ’ave -come out to take an airing, her having been ironin’ all this blessed -day, has been standin’ ’ere all the time and ain’t never seen a soul.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense,” I said. “A man came down from my room just now—the man you -sent up twenty minutes since.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marriner looked at me with an expression betokening the most -profound astonishment. Mrs. Higgins sighed deeply.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Parker,” said Mrs. Marriner, “sorry am I to say it, sir, but you’re -either intoxicated or else you’re a-sickening for brain fever, sir. -There ain’t no person entered this door, in or out, for nigh onto an -hour, as me and Missis Higgins ’ere will take our Bible oaths on.”</p> - -<p>I went upstairs and looked in the rooms on either side of mine. The man -was not there. I looked under my bed, and of course he was not there. He -must have gone downstairs. But then the women must have seen him. There -was only one door to the house. I gave it up in despair and began to -smoke my pipe. By the time I had drawn the last whiff I decided that if -anyone was “intoxicated,” it was probably Mrs. Marriner and Mrs. -Higgins, and that my strange visitor had departed by the door. I was not -going to believe that he had anything supernatural about him.</p> - -<p>I had no duty that night, and as the hours wore on I found myself stern -in my resolve to go<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>{66}</span> up to Miss Singleton’s house and see what I could -make out of my informant’s story. It was my opinion that my late visitor -was a whilom “pal” of Light Toed Jim, and that having become aware of -the latter’s plot, he had, for some reason of his own, decided to split -on his old chum. Thieves’ disagreement is an honest man’s opportunity, -and I determined to solve the truth of the story told me. Lest it should -come to nothing, I decided not to report the matter to my chief. If I -could really capture Light Toed Jim, my success would be all the more -brilliant by being suddenly sprung upon the authorities.</p> - -<p>I made my plan of action rapidly. I took a revolver with me and went up -to Miss Singleton’s house. Fortunately, I knew the housekeeper there—a -middle-aged, strong-minded woman, not easily frightened, which was a -good thing. To her I communicated such information as I considered -necessary. She consented to conceal me in the room where the safe stood. -There was a cupboard close by the safe from which I could command a full -view of the burglar’s operations and pounce upon him at the right -moment. If only my information was to be relied upon, there was every -chance of my capturing the famous burglar.</p> - -<p>Soon after midnight, when the house was all quiet, I went to the pantry -and got into the cupboard, locking myself in. There were two openings<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a>{67}</span> -in the panel, through either of which I was able to command a full view -of the room. My position was somewhat cramped, but the time soon passed -away. My mind was principally occupied in wondering if I was really -about to have a chance of distinguishing myself. Somehow, there was an -air of unreality about the events of the evening which puzzled me.</p> - -<p>Suddenly I heard a sound which put me on the alert at once. It was -nothing more than the creaking of a board or opening of a door would -make in a quiet house; but it sounded intensified to my expectant ears. -I drew myself up against the door of the cupboard and placed my eye to -the opening in the panel. I had oiled the key of the door, and kept my -fingers upon it in readiness to spring upon the burglar at the proper -moment. After what seemed some time I saw the gleam of light through the -keyhole of the door opening into the pantry. Then it opened, and a man -carrying a small lantern came gently into the room. At first I could see -nothing of his face; but when my eyes grew accustomed to the hazy light -I saw that I had been rightly informed, and that the burglar was indeed -no other than the famous Light Toed Jim.</p> - -<p>As I stood there watching him I could not help admiring the cool fashion -in which he went to work. He went over to the window and examined it. He -tried the door of the cupboard<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>{68}</span> in which I stood concealed. Then he -locked the door of the pantry and turned his attention to the safe. He -set his lamp on a chair before the lock and took from his pocket as neat -and pretty a collection of tools as ever I saw. With these he went -quietly and swiftly to work.</p> - -<p>Light Toed Jim was a somewhat slimly built fellow, with little muscular -development about him, while I am a big man with plenty of bone and -sinew. If matters had come to a fight between us I could have done what -I pleased with him; but I knew that Jim would not chance a fight. -Somewhere about him I felt sure there was a revolver, which he would use -on the least provocation. My plan, therefore, was to wait until his back -was bent over the lock of the safe, then to open the cupboard door -noiselessly and fall bodily upon him, pinning him to the ground beneath -me.</p> - -<p>Before long the moment came. He was working steadily away at the lock, -his whole attention concentrated on the job. The slight noise of his -drill was sufficient to drown the faint click of the key in the cupboard -door. I turned it quickly and tumbled right upon him, driving the tool -out of his hands and tumbling him into a heap at the foot of the safe. -He uttered an exclamation of rage and astonishment as he went down, and -immediately began to wriggle under me like an eel. As I kept him down -with one hand I tried to pull<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a>{69}</span> out the handcuffs with the other. This -somewhat embarrassed me, and the burglar profited by it to pull out a -sharp knife. He had worked himself round on his back, and before I -realized what he was after he was hacking furiously at me with his keen, -dagger-like blade. Then I realized that we were going to have a fight -for it, and prepared myself. He tried to run the knife into my side. I -warded it off, but the blade caught the fleshy part of my left arm and I -felt a warm stream of blood spurt out.</p> - -<p>That maddened me, and I seized one of the steel drills lying near at -hand, and hit my man such a blow over the temple that he collapsed at -once, and lay as if dead. I put the handcuffs on him instantly, and, to -make matters still more certain, I secured his ankles. Then I rose and -looked at my arm. The knife had made a nasty gash, and the blood was -flowing freely, but it was not serious; and when the housekeeper, who -had just then appeared on the scene, had bandaged it, I went out and -secured the help of the first policeman I met in conveying Light Toed -Jim to the office.</p> - -<p>I felt a proud man when I made my report to the inspector.</p> - -<p>“Light Toed Jim?” said he. “What, James Bland? Nonsense, Parker.” But I -took him to the cells where Jim was being attended to by the doctor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a>{70}</span></p> - -<p>“You’re right, Parker,” he said. “That’s the man. Well, this will be a -fine thing for you.”</p> - -<p>After a time, feeling a little exhausted, I went home to try and get -some sleep. The surgeon had attended to my arm, and told me it was but a -superficial wound. It felt sore enough in spite of that.</p> - -<p>I had no sooner reached my lodgings than I saw sitting in my easy-chair -the strange man who had called upon me earlier in the evening. He rose -to his feet when I entered. I stared at him in utter astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Well, guv’nor,” said he, “I see you’ve done it. You’ve got him square -and fair, I reckon?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I said.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” he said, with a sigh of complete satisfaction. “Then I’m -satisfied. Yes, I don’t know as how there’s aught more I could say. I -reckon as how Light Toed Jim an’ me is quits.”</p> - -<p>I was determined to find out who this man was this time. “Sit down,” I -said. “There’s a question or two I must ask you. Just let me get my coat -off and I’ll talk to you.” I took my coat off and went over to the bed -to lay it down. “Now then,” I began, and looked around at him. I said no -more, being literally struck dumb. The man was gone!</p> - -<p>I began to feel uncomfortable. I ran hastily downstairs, only to find -the outer door locked and bolted, as I had left it a few minutes -before.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>{71}</span> I went back, utterly nonplussed. For an hour I pondered the -matter over, but could neither make head nor tail of it.</p> - -<p>When I went down to the office next morning I was informed that the -burglar wanted to see me. I went to his cell, where he was lying in bed -with his head bandaged. I had hit him pretty hard, as it turned out, and -it was probable he would have to lie on the sick list for some days. -“Well, guv’nor,” said he, “you’d the best of me last night. You hit me -rather hard that time.”</p> - -<p>“I was sorry to have to do it, my man,” I answered. “You would have -stabbed me if you could.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said, “I should. But I say, guv’nor, come a bit closer; I want -to ask you a question. How did you know I was on that little job last -night? For, s’elp me, there wasn’t a soul knew a breath about it but -myself. I hadn’t no pals, never talked to anybody about it, never -thought aloud about it, as I knows on. How came you to spot it, -guv’nor?”</p> - -<p>There was no one else in the cell with us, and I thought I might find -out something about my mysterious visitor of the night before. “It was a -pal of yours who gave me the information,” I said.</p> - -<p>“Can’t be, guv’nor. No use telling me that. I ain’t got no -pals—leastways not in this job.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a>{72}</span></p> - -<p>“Did you ever know a man like this?” I described my visitor. As I -proceeded, Light Toed Jim’s face assumed an expression of real terror. -Whatever color there was in it faded away. I never saw a man look more -thoroughly frightened. “Yes, yes,” he said, eagerly. “In course I know -who it is. Why, it’s Barksea Bill, as I pal’d with at one time—and what -did he say, guv’nor—that he owed me a grudge? That we was quits at -last? Right you are, ’cos he did owe me a grudge. I treated Bill very -shabby—very shabby, indeed, and he swore solemn he’d have his revenge. -On’y, guv’nor, what you see wasn’t Barksea Bill at all, but his ghost, -’cos Barksea Bill’s been dead and buried this three year.”</p> - -<p>I was naturally very much exercised in my mind over this weird -development of the affair, and I used to think about it long after Light -Toed Jim had once more retired to the seclusion of Portland. While he -was in charge at Westford I tried more than once to worm some more -information out of him about the defunct Barksea Bill, but with no -success. He would say no more than that “Bill was dead and buried this -three year;” and with that I had to be content. Gradually I came to have -a firm belief that I had indeed been visited by Barksea Bill’s ghost, -and I often told the story to brother officers, and sometimes got well -laughed at. That, however, mattered little to me; I felt sure that any -man<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a>{73}</span> who had gone through the same experience would have had the same -beliefs.</p> - -<p>Of course I got my promotion and was soon afterward married. Things went -well with me, and I was lifted from one step to another. In my secret -mind I was always sure I owed my first rise to the burglar’s ghost, and -I should have continued to think so but for an incident which occurred -just five years after my capture of Light Toed Jim.</p> - -<p>I had occasion to travel to Sheffield from Westford, and had to change -trains at Leeds. The carriage I stepped into was occupied by a solitary -individual, who turned his face to me as I sat down. Though dressed in -more respectable fashion, I immediately recognized the man who had -visited me so mysteriously at my lodgings. My first feeling was one of -fear, and I daresay my face showed it, for the man laughed.</p> - -<p>“Hallo, guv’nor,” said he; “I see you knew me as soon as you come in. -You owes a deal to me, guv’nor; now, don’t you, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Look here, my man,” I said, “I’ve been taking you for a ghost these -five years past. Now just tell me how you got in and out of my room that -night, will you?”</p> - -<p>He laughed long and loud at that. “A ghost?” said he. “Well, if that -ain’t a good un! Why, easy enough, guv’nor. I was a-lodging for a day or -two in the same house. It’s easy enough, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a>{74}</span> you know how, to open a -door very quiet and to slip out, too.”</p> - -<p>“But I followed you sharp, and looked for you.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, guv’nor; but you looked down, and I had gone up! You should ha’ -come up to the attics, and there you’d ha’ found me. So you took me for -a ghost? Well, I’m blowed.”</p> - -<p>I told him what Light Toed Jim had said in the cell.</p> - -<p>“Ay,” said he, “I dessay, guv’nor. You see, ’twas this way—it weren’t -Jim’s fault as I wasn’t dead. He tried to murder me, guv’nor, he did, -and left me a-lying for dead. So I ses to myself when I comes round that -I’d pay him out sooner or later. But after that I quit the profession, -Jim’s nasty conduck havin’ made me sick of it. So I went in for honest -work at my old trade, which was draining and pipe repairing. I was on a -job o’ that sort in Westford, near Miss Singleton’s house, when I see -Light Toed Jim. I had a hidea what he was up to, havin’ heard o’ the -plate, and I watches him one or two nights, and gets a notion ’ow he was -going to work the job. Then, o’ course, you being a officer and close at -hand I splits on him—and that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“But you had got the time and details correct?”</p> - -<p>“Why, o’ course, guv’nor. I was an old hand—served many years at -Portland, I have, and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a>{75}</span> knew just how Jim would work it, after seeing -his perlim’nary observations. But a ghost! Ha, ha, ha! Why, guv’nor, you -must ha’ been a very green young officer in them days!”</p> - -<p>Perhaps I was. At any rate I learned a lesson from the ci-devant Barksea -Bill—namely, that in searching a house it is always advisable to look -up as well as down.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a>{76}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_PHANTOM_TOE" id="A_PHANTOM_TOE"></a>A PHANTOM TOE.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">I am</span> not a superstitious man, far from it, but despite all my efforts to -the contrary I could not help thinking, directly I had taken a survey of -my chamber, that I should never quit it without going through a strange -adventure. There was something in its immense size, heaviness and gloom -that seemed to annihilate at one blow all my resolute skepticism as -regards supernatural visitations. It appeared to me totally impossible -to go into that room and disbelieve in ghosts.</p> - -<p>The fact is, I had incautiously partaken at supper of that favorite -Dutch dish, sauerkraut, and I suppose it had disagreed with me and put -strange fancies into my head. Be this as it may I only know that after -parting with my friend for the night I gradually worked myself up into -such a state of fidgetiness that at last I wasn’t sure whether I hadn’t -become a ghost myself.</p> - -<p>“Supposing,” ruminated I, “supposing the landlord himself should be a -practical robber and should have taken the lock and bolt from off this -door for the purpose of entering here in the dead<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a>{77}</span> of the night, -abstracting all my property, and perhaps murdering me! I thought the dog -had a very cutthroat air about him.” Now, I had never had any such idea -until that moment, for my host was a fat (all Dutchmen are fat), -stupid-looking fellow, who I don’t believe had sense enough to -understand what a robbery or murder meant, but somehow or other, -whenever we have anything really to annoy us (and it certainly was not -pleasant to go to bed in a strange place without being able to fasten -one’s door), we are sure to aggravate it by myriads of chimeras of our -own brain.</p> - -<p>So, on the present occasion, in the midst of a thousand disagreeable -reveries, some of the most wild absurdity, I jumped very gloomily into -bed, having first put out my candle (for total darkness was far -preferable to its flickering, ghostly light, which transformed rather -than revealed objects), and soon fell asleep, perfectly tired out with -my day’s riding.</p> - -<p>How long I lay asleep I don’t know, but I suddenly awoke from a -disagreeable dream of cutthroats, ghosts and long, winding passages in a -haunted inn. An indescribable feeling, such as I never before -experienced, hung upon me. It seemed as if every nerve in my body had a -hundred spirits tickling it, and this was accompanied by so great a heat -that, inwardly cursing mine host’s sauerkraut and wondering how the -Dutchmen<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a>{78}</span> could endure such poison, I was forced to sit up in bed to -cool myself. The whole of the room was profoundly dark, excepting at one -place, where the moonlight, falling through a crevice in the shutters, -threw a straight line of about an inch or so thick upon the -floor—clear, sharp and intensely brilliant against the darkness. I -leave you to conceive my horror when, upon looking at this said line of -light, I saw there a naked human toe—nothing more.</p> - -<p>For the first instant I thought the vision must be some effect of -moonlight, then that I was only half awake and could not see distinctly. -So I rubbed my eyes two or three times and looked again. Still there was -the accursed thing—plain, distinct, immovable—marblelike in its -fixedness and rigidity, but in everything else horribly human.</p> - -<p>I am not an easily frightened man. No one who has traveled so much and -seen so much and been exposed to so many dangers as I, can be, but there -was something so mysterious and unusual in the appearance of this single -toe that for a short time I could not think what to be at, so I did -nothing but stare at it in a state of utter bewilderment.</p> - -<p>At length, however, as the toe did not vanish under my steady gaze, I -thought I might as well change my tactics, and remembering that all -midnight invaders, be they thieves, ghosts or devils,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a>{79}</span> dislike nothing -so much as a good noise I shouted out in a loud voice:</p> - -<p>“Who’s there?”</p> - -<p>The toe immediately disappeared in the darkness.</p> - -<p>Almost simultaneously with my words I leaped out of bed and rushed -toward the place where I had beheld the strange appearance. The next -instant I ran against something and felt an iron grip round my body. -After this I have no distinct recollection of what occurred, excepting -that a fearful struggle ensued between me and my unseen opponent; that -every now and then we were violently hurled to the floor, from which we -always rose again in an instant, locked in a deadly embrace; that we -tugged and strained and pulled and pushed, I in the convulsive and -frantic energy of a fight for life, he (for by this time I had -discovered that the intruder was a human being) actuated by some passion -of which I was ignorant; that we whirled round and round, cheek to cheek -and arm to arm, in fierce contest, until the room appeared to whiz round -with us, and that at least a dozen people (my fellow traveler among -them), roused, I suppose, by our repeated falls, came pouring into the -room with lights and showed me struggling with a man having nothing on -but a shirt, whose long, tangled hair and wild, unsettled eyes told me -he was insane. And then, for the first time, I became aware that I had -received<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a>{80}</span> in the conflict several gashes from a knife, which my opponent -still held in his hand.</p> - -<p>To conclude my story in a few words (for I daresay all of you by this -time are getting very tired), it turned out that my midnight visitor was -a madman who was being conveyed to a lunatic asylum at The Hague, and -that he and his keeper had been obliged to stop at Delft on their way. -The poor fellow had contrived during the night to escape from his -keeper, who had carelessly forgotten to lock the door of his chamber, -and with that irresistible desire to shed blood peculiar to many insane -people had possessed himself of a pocketknife belonging to the man who -had charge of him, entered my room, which was most likely the only one -in the house unfastened, and was probably meditating the fatal stroke -when I saw his toe in the moonlight, the rest of his body being hidden -in the shade.</p> - -<p>After this terrible freak of his he was watched with much greater -strictness, but I ought to observe, as some excuse for the keeper’s -negligence, that this was the first act of violence he had ever -attempted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a>{81}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MRS_DAVENPORTS_GHOST" id="MRS_DAVENPORTS_GHOST"></a>MRS. DAVENPORT’S GHOST.<br /><br /> -<small>BY FREDERICK P. SCHRADER.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear</span> readers, do you agree with Hamlet? Do you believe that there is -more between heaven and earth than we dream of in our philosophy? Does -it seem possible to you that Eliphas Levy conjured up the shade of -Apollonius of Tyana, the prophet of the Magii, in a London hotel, and -that the great sage, William Crookes, drank his tea at breakfast several -days a week, for months in succession, in the society of the -materialized spirit of a young lady, attired in white linen, with a -feather turban on her head?</p> - -<p>Do not laugh! Panic would seize you in the presence even of a turbaned -spirit, and the grotesque spectacle would but intensify your terror. As -for me, I did not laugh last night on reading an account in a New York -newspaper of a criminal trial that will probably terminate in the death -penalty of the accused.</p> - -<p>It is a sad case. I shudder as I transcribe the records of the trial -from the testimony of the hotel waiter, who heard the conversation of -the two confederates through a keyhole, and of forty<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a>{82}</span> thoroughly -credible witnesses, who testified to the same facts. What would be my -feelings if I had seen the beautiful victim with the gaping wound in her -breast, into which she dipped her finger to mark the brow of her -murderer?</p> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<p>About three o’clock on the afternoon of February 3, Professor Davenport -and Miss Ida Soutchotte, a very pale and delicate young girl, who had -submitted to the tests of Professor Davenport for a number of years, -were finishing their dinner in their room in the second story of a New -York hotel. Professor Benjamin Davenport was a celebrity, but it was -said that he owed his fame to somewhat questionable means. The leading -spiritualists did not repose the confidence in him that manifestly -marked their regard for William Crookes or Daniel Douglas Home.</p> - -<p>“Greedy and unscrupulous mediums,” the author of Spiritualism in America -thinks, “are to blame for the most bitter attacks to which our cause has -been exposed. When the materializations do not take place as quickly as -circumstances require, they resort to trickery and fraud to extricate -themselves from a dilemma.”</p> - -<p>Professor Benjamin Davenport belonged to these “versatile” mediums. -Aside from this, queer stories were afloat about him. He was secretly -accused of highway robbery in South<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a>{83}</span> America, cheating at cards in the -gambling houses of San Francisco, and the overhasty use of firearms -toward persons who had never offended him. It was said almost openly, -that the professor’s wife had died from abuse and grief at his -infidelity. But in spite of these annoying rumors, Mr. Davenport, by -virtue of his skill as a fraud and fakir, continued to exercise a great -deal of influence upon certain plain and simple-minded folks, whom it -was impossible to convince that they had not touched the materialized -spirits of their brothers, mothers, or sisters through the agency of his -wonderful power. His professional success received material accession -from his swarthy, Mephisto-like countenance, his deep, fiery eyes, his -large curved nose, the cynical expression of his mouth, and the lofty, -almost prophetic tone of his words.</p> - -<p>When the waiter had made his last visit—he did not go far—the -following conversation took place in the room:</p> - -<p>“There is to be a seance this evening at the residence of Mrs. Harding,” -began the medium. “Quite a number of influential people will be there, -and two or three millionaires. Conceal under your skirt the blonde -woman’s wig and the white material in which the spirits usually make -their appearance.”</p> - -<p>“Very well,” replied Ida Soutchotte, in a resigned tone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a>{84}</span></p> - -<p>The waiter heard her pace the room. After a pause, she asked:</p> - -<p>“Whose spirit are you going to control this evening, Benjamin?”</p> - -<p>The waiter heard a loud, brutal laugh and the chair groaning beneath the -weight of the demonstrative professor.</p> - -<p>“Guess.”</p> - -<p>“How should I know?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“I am going to conjure up the spirit of my dead wife.”</p> - -<p>And another burst of laughter issued from the room, full of sinister -levity. A cry of terror burst from Ida’s lips. A muffled sound indicated -to the eavesdropper at the door that she was dragging herself to the -feet of the professor.</p> - -<p>“Benjamin, Benjamin! don’t do it,” she sobbed.</p> - -<p>“Why not? They say I broke Mrs. Davenport’s heart. The story is damaging -my reputation, but it will be forgotten if her spirit should address me -in terms of endearment from the other shore in the presence of numerous -witnesses. For you will speak to me tenderly, will you not, Ida?”</p> - -<p>“No, no. You shall not do it; you shall not think of it. Listen to me, -for God’s sake. During the four years that I have been with you I have -obeyed you faithfully and suffered patiently. I have lied and deceived, -like you; I learned to imitate the sleep and symptoms of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a>{85}</span> clairvoyants. -Tell me, did I ever refuse to serve you, or utter a word of complaint, -even when my shoulders bent with the weight of my burden, when you -pierced the flesh of my arms with knitting needles? Worse than all this, -I imitated distant voices behind curtains, and made mothers and wives -believe that their sons and husbands had come from a better world to -communicate with them. How often have I performed the most dangerous -feats in parlors with the lamps turned low? Clothed in a shroud or white -muslin I essayed to represent supernatural forms, whom tear-dimmed eyes -recognized as those of departed dear ones. You do not know what I -suffered at this unhallowed work. You scoff at the mysteries of -eternity. I suffer the torments of an impending retribution. My God! if -some time the dead whom I counterfeit should rise up before me with -uplifted arms and dreadful imprecations! This constant terror has -injured my heart—it will kill me. I am consumed by fever. Look how -emaciated, how worn-out and downcast I am. But I am under your control. -Do as you like with me; I am in your power, and I want it to be so. Have -I ever complained? But do not force me to do this thing, Benjamin. Have -pity on me for what I have done for you in the past, for what I am -suffering. Do not attempt this mummery; do not compel me to play the -role of your dead wife, who was so<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a>{86}</span> tender and beautiful. Oh, what put -that thought into your mind? Spare me, Benjamin, I implore you!”</p> - -<p>The professor did not laugh again. Amid the confusion of upturned -articles of furniture the eavesdropper distinguished the sound of a -skull striking the floor. He concluded that Professor Davenport had -knocked Miss Ida down with a blow of his fist, or had kicked her as she -approached him. But the waiter did not enter the room, as no one rang -for him.</p> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<p>That evening forty persons were assembled in Mrs. Joanne Harding’s -parlor, staring at the curtain where a spirit form was in process of -materializing. One dark lantern in a corner of the room contributed the -light that emphasized the darkness rather than relieved it. The room was -pervaded by profound silence, save the quickened, suppressed breathing -of the spectators. The fire in the grate cast mysterious rays of light, -resembling fugitive spirits, upon the objects around, almost -indistinguishable in the semi-gloom.</p> - -<p>Professor Davenport was at his best this evening. The spirit world -obeyed him without hesitation, like their lawful master. He was the -mighty prince of souls. Hands that had no arms were seen picking flowers -from the vases; the touch of an invisible spirit conjured sweet -melodies<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a>{87}</span> from the keys of the piano; the furniture responded by -intelligent rappings to the most unanticipated questions. The professor -himself elevated his form in symbolical distortions from the floor to an -altitude of three feet, indicated by Mrs. Harding, and remained -suspended in the air for a quarter of an hour, holding live coals in his -hands.</p> - -<h3>III.</h3> - -<p>But the most interesting, as well as the most conclusive, test was to be -the materialization of the spirit of Mrs. Arabella Davenport, which the -professor had promised at the beginning of the seance.</p> - -<p>“The hour has come,” exclaimed the medium.</p> - -<p>And while the hearts of all throbbed with anxious suspense, and their -eyes distended with painful expectancy of the promised materialization, -Benjamin Davenport stood before the curtain. In the twilight the tall -man with the disheveled hair and demon look, was really terrible and -handsome.</p> - -<p>“Appear, Arabella!” he exclaimed, in a commanding voice, with gestures -of the Nazarene at the sepulcher of Lazarus.</p> - -<p>All are waiting——</p> - -<p>Suddenly a cry burst from behind the curtain—a piercing, shuddering, -horrible shriek, the shriek of an expiring soul.</p> - -<p>The spectators trembled. Mrs. Harding almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a>{88}</span> fainted. The medium -himself appeared surprised.</p> - -<p>But Benjamin recovered his composure on seeing the curtain move and -admit the spirit.</p> - -<p>The apparition was that of a young woman with long blonde tresses; she -was beautiful and pale, clad in some light, whitish material. Her breast -was bare, and on the left side appeared a bleeding wound, in which -trembled a knife.</p> - -<p>The spectators arose and retreated, pushing their chairs to the wall. -Those who chanced to look at the medium noticed that a deathly pallor -had overspread his face, and that he was cowering and trembling.</p> - -<p>But the young woman, Mrs. Arabella, the real one, whom he so well -remembered, she had come in response to his summons, and advanced in a -direct line toward Benjamin, who in terror covered his eyes to shut out -the ghastly sight, and with a cry fled behind the furniture. But she -dipped the finger of her thin hand into the blood from her wound and -traced it across the brow of the unconscious medium, the while -repeating, in a slow, monotonous tone that sounded like the echo of a -wail, again and again:</p> - -<p>“You are my murderer! You are my murderer!”</p> - -<p>And while he was rolling and tossing in deadly terror on the floor they -turned up the lights.</p> - -<p>The spirit had vanished. But in the communicating<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a>{89}</span> room, behind the -curtain, they found the body of poor Miss Ida Soutchotte with horribly -distorted features. A physician who was present pronounced it heart -stroke.</p> - -<p>And that is the reason that Prof. Benjamin Davenport appeared alone in a -New York courtroom to answer to the charge of having murdered his wife -four years ago in San Francisco.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a>{90}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_PHANTOM_WOMAN" id="THE_PHANTOM_WOMAN"></a>THE PHANTOM WOMAN.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">He</span> took an all-possessing, burning fancy to her from the first. She was -neither young nor pretty, so far as he could see—but she was wrapped -round with mystery. That was the key of it all; she was noticeable in -spite of herself. Her face at the window, sunset after sunset; her eyes, -gazing out mournfully through the dusty panes, hypnotized the lawyer. He -saw her through the twilight night after night, and he grew at length to -wait through the days in a feverish waiting for dusk, and that one look -at an unknown woman.</p> - -<p>She was always at the same window on the ground floor, sitting doing -nothing. She looked beyond, so the infatuated solicitor fancied, at him. -Once he even thought that he detected the ghost of a friendly smile on -her lips. Their eyes always met with a mute desire to make acquaintance. -This romance went on for a couple of months.</p> - -<p>Gilbert Dent assured himself that nothing in this life can possibly -remain stationary, and he cudgeled his brain for a respectable manner of -introducing himself to his idol.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a>{91}</span></p> - -<p>He had hardly arrived at this point when he received a shock. There came -an evening when she was not at the window.</p> - -<p>Next morning he walked down Wood Lane on his way to the office. He -always went by train, but he felt a strong disinclination to go through -another day without a sight of her. His heart began to beat like a -schoolgirl’s as he drew near the house. If she should be at the window. -He was almost disposed to take his courage in his hand and call on her, -and—yes, even—tell her in a quick burst that she had mysteriously -become all the world to him. He could see nothing ridiculous in this -course; the possibility of her being married, or having family ties of -any sort, had simply never occurred to him.</p> - -<p>However, she was not at the window; what was more, there was a sinister -silence, a sort of breathlessness about the whole place.</p> - -<p>It was a very hot morning in late August. He looked a long time, but no -face came, and no movement stirred the house.</p> - -<p>He went his way, walking like a man who has been heavily knocked on the -brow and sees stars still. That afternoon he left the office early, and -in less than an hour stood at the gate again. The window was blank. He -pushed the gate back—it hung on one hinge—and walked up the drive to -the door. There were five steps—five steps leading up to it. At the -foot he wheeled aside<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a>{92}</span> sharply to the window; he had a sick dread of -looking through the small panes—why he could not have told.</p> - -<p>When at last he found courage to look he saw that there was a small -round table set just under the window—a work-table to all appearance; -one of those things with lots of little compartments all round and a lid -in the middle which shut over a well-like cavity for holding pieces of -needlework. He remembered that his mother had one—thirty years before.</p> - -<p>Round the edge of the table was gripped a small, delicate hand. Gilbert -Dent’s eyes ran from this bloodless hand and slim wrist to a shoulder -under a coarse stuff bodice—to a rather wasted throat, which was bare -and flung back.</p> - -<p>So this was the end—before the beginning. He saw her. She was dead; -twisted on the floor with a ghastly face turned up toward the ceiling, -and stiff fingers caught in desperation round the work table.</p> - -<p>He stumbled away along the path and into the lane.</p> - -<p>For a long time he could not realize the horror of this thing. The -influence of the decayed house hung over him—nothing seemed real. It -was quite dark when he moved away from the gate, and went in the -direction of the nearest police station. That she was dead—this woman -whose very name he did not know although she<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a>{93}</span> influenced him so -powerfully—he was certain; one look at the face would have told anyone -that. That she was murdered he more than suspected. He had seen no blood -about; there had been no mark on the long, bare throat, and yet the word -rushed in his ears, “Murder.”</p> - -<p>Later on he went back with a police officer.</p> - -<p>They broke into the house and entered the room. It was in utter -darkness, of course, by now. Dent, his fingers trembling, struck a -match. It flared round the walls and lighted them for a moment before he -let it fall on the dusty floor.</p> - -<p>The policeman began to light his lantern and turned it stolidly on the -window. He had no reason for delay; he was eager to get to the bottom of -the business. His professional zeal was whetted; this promised to be a -mystery with a spice in it.</p> - -<p>He turned the light full on the window; he gave a strange, choked cry, -half of rage, half of apprehension. Then he went up to Gilbert Dent, who -stood in the middle of the room with his hands before his eyes, and took -his shoulder and shook it none too gently.</p> - -<p>“There ain’t nobody,” he said.</p> - -<p>Dent looked wildly at the window—the recess was empty except for the -work-table. The woman was gone.</p> - -<p>They searched the house; they minutely inspected the garden. Everything -was normal;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a>{94}</span> everything told the same mournful tale—of desertion, of -death, of long empty years. But they found no woman, nor trace of one.</p> - -<p>“This house,” said the policeman, looking suspiciously into the lawyer’s -face, “has been empty for longer than I can remember. Nobody’ll live in -it. They do say something about foul play a good many years ago. I don’t -know about that. All I do know is that the landlord can’t get it off his -hands.”</p> - -<p>It was doubtful if Gilbert Dent heard one word of what the man was -saying. He was too stunned to do anything but creep home—when he was -allowed to go—and let himself stealthily into his own house with a -latch key; he was afraid even of himself. He did not go to bed that -night.</p> - -<p>As for the mystery of the woman, the matter was allowed to drop; it -ended—officially. There was a shrug and a grin at the police station. -The impression there was that the lawyer had been drinking—that the -dead woman in the empty room was a gruesome freak of his tipsy brain.</p> - -<p class="ast">* * * * *</p> - -<p>A week or so later Dent called on his brother Ned—the one near relation -he had. Ned was a doctor; perhaps he was a shade more matter-of-fact -than Gilbert; at all events, when the latter told his story of the house -and the woman, he attributed the affair solely to liver.</p> - -<p>“You are overworked”—the elder brother<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a>{95}</span> looked at the younger’s yellow -face. “An experience of this nature is by no means uncommon. Haven’t you -heard of people having their pet ‘spooks’?”</p> - -<p>“But this was a real woman,” he declared. “I—I, well, I was in love -with her. I had made up my mind to marry her—if I could.”</p> - -<p>Ned gave him a keen, swift glance.</p> - -<p>“We’ll go to Brighton to-morrow,” he said, with quiet decision. “As for -your work, everything must be put aside. You’ve run completely down. You -ought to have been taken in hand before.”</p> - -<p>They went to Brighton, and it really seemed as if Ned was right, and -that the woman at the window had been merely a nervous creation. It -seemed so, that is, for nearly three weeks, and then the climax came.</p> - -<p>It was in the twilight—she had always been part of it—that Gilbert -Dent saw her again; the woman that he had found lying dead.</p> - -<p>They were walking, the two brothers, along the cliffs.</p> - -<p>The wind was blowing in their faces, the sea was booming beneath the -cliff. Ned had just said it was about time they turned back to the hotel -and had some dinner, when Gilbert with a cry leapt forward to the very -edge of the flat grass path on which they were strolling. The movement -was so sudden that his brother barely<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a>{96}</span> caught him in time. They -struggled and swayed on the very edge of the cliff for a second; -Gilbert, possessed by some sudden frenzy, seemed resolved to go over, -but the other at last dragged him backward, and they rolled together on -the close, thick turf.</p> - -<p>At this point Gilbert opened his eyes and tried to get on his feet.</p> - -<p>“Better?” asked his brother, cheerfully, holding out a helping hand. -“Strange! The sea has that effect on some people. Didn’t think that you -were one of them.”</p> - -<p>“What effect?”</p> - -<p>“Vertigo, my dear fellow.”</p> - -<p>“Ned,” said the other solemnly, “I saw her. It is not worth your while -to try to account for anything. I have been inclined to think that you -were right—that she, the woman at the window, was a fancy, that I had -fallen in love with a creation of my own brain; but I saw her again -to-night. You must have seen her yourself—she was within a couple of -feet of you. Why did you not try and save her? It was nothing short of -murder to let her go over like that. I did my best.”</p> - -<p>“You certainly did—to kill us both,” said Ned, grimly.</p> - -<p>Gilbert gave him a wild look.</p> - -<p>After luncheon Ned persuaded him to rest—watched him fall asleep, and -then went out.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>{97}</span></p> - -<p>In the porch of the hotel he was met by a waiter on his return who told -him that Gilbert had left about a quarter of an hour after he had -himself gone out.</p> - -<p>Directly he heard this he feared the worst; having, as is usual in such -cases, a very hazy idea of what the worst might be. Of course he must -follow without a moment’s delay; but a reference to the time-table told -him that there was not another train for an hour, and that was slow.</p> - -<p>It was already getting dusk when he arrived there. He felt certain that -Gilbert would go there. He got to the end of the lane and walked up it -slowly, examining every house. There would be no difficulty in -recognizing the one he wanted; Gilbert had described it in detail more -than once.</p> - -<p>He stood outside the loosely hanging gate at last, and stared through -the darkness at the shabby stucco front and rank garden.</p> - -<p>He went down a flight of steps to the back door, and finding it -unfastened, stepped into a stone passage. It was one of the problems of -the place that he should have avoided the main entrance door with a -half-admitted dread, and that, only half admitting still, he was afraid -to mount the long flight of stone stairs leading from the servants’ -quarters. However, he pulled himself together and went up to the room.</p> - -<p>It was quite dark inside. He heard something<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a>{98}</span> scuttle across the floor; -he felt the grit and dust of years under his feet. He struck a -match—just as Gilbert had done—and looked first at the recess in which -the window was built. The match flared round the room for a moment and -gave him a flash picture of his surroundings. He saw the stripes of -gaudy paper moving almost imperceptibly, like tentacles of some sea -monster, from the wall; he saw a creature—it looked like a rat—scurry -across the floor from the window to the great mantelpiece of hard white -marble.</p> - -<p>If he had seen nothing more than this.</p> - -<p>He saw in detail all that the first match had flashed at him. He saw his -brother lying on the floor; a ghastly coincidence, his hand was caught -round the edge of the work-table as hers had been. The other hand was -clenched across his breast; there was a look of great agony on his face.</p> - -<p>A dead face, of course. This was the end of the affair. He was lying -dead by the window where the woman had sat every night at dusk and -smiled at him.</p> - -<p>The second match went out; the brother of the dead man struck a third. -He looked again and closely. Then he staggered to his feet and gave a -cry. It rang through the empty rooms and echoed without wearying down -the long, stone passages in the basement.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a>{99}</span></p> - -<p>Gilbert’s head was thrown back; his chin peaked to the ceiling. On his -throat were livid marks. The doctor saw them distinctly; he saw the grip -of small fingers; the distinct impression of a woman’s little hand.</p> - -<p class="ast">* * * * *</p> - -<p>The curious thing about the whole story—the most curious thing, -perhaps—is that no other eye ever saw those murderous marks. So there -was no scandal, no chase after the murderer, no undiscovered crime. They -faded; when the doctor saw his brother again in the full light and in -the presence of others his throat was clear. And the post mortem proved -that death was due to natural causes.</p> - -<p>So the matter stands, and will.</p> - -<p>But where the house and its overgrown garden stood runs a new road with -neat red and white villas.</p> - -<p>Whatever secret it knew—if any—it kept discreetly.</p> - -<p>Ned Dent is morbid enough to go down the smart new road in the twilight -sometimes and wonder.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_PHANTOM_HAG" id="THE_PHANTOM_HAG"></a>THE PHANTOM HAG.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> other evening in an old castle the conversation turned upon -apparitions, each one of the party telling a story. As the accounts grew -more horrible the young ladies drew closer together.</p> - -<p>“Have you ever had an adventure with a ghost?” said they to me. “Do you -not know a story to make us shiver? Come, tell us something.”</p> - -<p>“I am quite willing to do so,” I replied. “I will tell you of an -incident that happened to myself.”</p> - -<p>Toward the close of the autumn of 1858 I visited one of my friends, -sub-prefect of a little city in the center of France. Albert was an old -companion of my youth, and I had been present at his wedding. His -charming wife was full of goodness and grace. My friend wished to show -me his happy home, and to introduce me to his two pretty little -daughters. I was feted and taken great care of. Three days after my -arrival I knew the entire city, curiosities, old castles, ruins, etc. -Every day about four o’clock Albert would order the phaeton, and we -would take a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span> long ride, returning home in the evening. One evening my -friend said to me:</p> - -<p>“To-morrow we will go further than usual. I want to take you to the -Black Rocks. They are curious old Druidical stones, on a wild and -desolate plain. They will interest you. My wife has not seen them yet, -so we will take her.”</p> - -<p>The following day we drove out at the usual hour. Albert’s wife sat by -his side. I occupied the back seat alone. The weather was gray and -somber that afternoon, and the journey was not very pleasant. When we -arrived at the Black Rocks the sun was setting. We got out of the -phaeton, and Albert took care of the horses.</p> - -<p>We walked some little distance through the fields before reaching the -giant remains of the old Druid religion. Albert’s wife wished to climb -to the summit of the altar, and I assisted her. I can still see her -graceful figure as she stood draped in a red shawl, her veil floating -around her.</p> - -<p>“How beautiful it is! But does it not make you feel a little -melancholy?” said she, extending her hand toward the dark horizon, which -was lighted a little by the last rays of the sun.</p> - -<p>The afternoon wind blew violently, and sighed through the stunted trees -that grew around the stone cromlechs; not a dwelling nor a human being -was in sight. We hastened to get down, and silently retraced our steps -to the carriage.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span></p> - -<p>“We must hurry,” said Albert; “the sky is threatening, and we shall have -scarcely time to reach home before night.”</p> - -<p>We carefully wrapped the robes around his wife. She tied the veil around -her face, and the horses started into a rapid trot. It was growing dark; -the scenery around us was bare and desolate; clumps of fir trees here -and there and furze bushes formed the only vegetation. We began to feel -the cold, for the wind blew with fury; the only sound we heard was the -steady trot of the horses and the sharp clear tinkle of their bells.</p> - -<p>Suddenly I felt the heavy grasp of a hand upon my shoulder. I turned my -head quickly. A horrible apparition presented itself before my eyes. In -the empty place at my side sat a hideous woman. I tried to cry out; the -phantom placed her fingers upon her lips to impose silence upon me. I -could not utter a sound. The woman was clothed in white linen; her head -was cowled; her face was overspread with a corpse-like pallor, and in -place of eyes were ghastly black cavities.</p> - -<p>I sat motionless, overcome by terror.</p> - -<p>The ghost suddenly stood up and leaned over the young wife. She -encircled her with her arms, and lowered her hideous head as if to kiss -her forehead.</p> - -<p>“What a wind!” cried Madame Albert, turning precipitately toward me. “My -veil is torn.”</p> - -<p>As she turned I felt the same infernal pressure<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span> on my shoulder, and the -place occupied by the phantom was empty. I looked out to the right and -left—the road was deserted, not an object in sight.</p> - -<p>“What a dreadful gale!” said Madame Albert. “Did you feel it? I cannot -explain the terror that seized me; my veil was torn by the wind as if by -an invisible hand; I am trembling still.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind,” said Albert, smiling; “wrap yourself up, my dear; we will -soon be warming ourselves by a good fire at home. I am starving.”</p> - -<p>A cold perspiration covered my forehead; a shiver ran through me; my -tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, and I could not articulate a -sound; a sharp pain in my shoulder was the only sensible evidence that I -was not the victim of an hallucination. Putting my hand upon my aching -shoulder, I felt a rent in the cloak that was wrapped around me. I -looked at it; five perfectly distinct holes—visible traces of the grip -of the horrible phantom. I thought for a moment that I should die or -that my reason should leave me; it was, I think, the most dreadful -moment of my life.</p> - -<p>Finally I became more calm; this nameless agony had lasted for some -minutes; I do not think it is possible for a human being to suffer more -than I did during that time. As soon as I had recovered my senses, I -thought at first I would tell my friends all that had passed, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span> -hesitated, and finally did not, fearing that my story would frighten -Madame Albert, and feeling sure my friend would not believe me. The -lights of the little city revived me, and gradually the oppression of -terror that overwhelmed me became lighter.</p> - -<p>So soon as we reached home, Madame Albert untied her veil; it was -literally in shreds. I hoped to find my clothes whole and prove to -myself that it was all imagination. But no, the cloth was torn in five -places, just where the fingers had seized my shoulder. There was no -mark, however, upon my flesh, only a dull pain.</p> - -<p>I returned to Paris the next day, where I endeavored to forget the -strange adventure; or at least when I thought of it, I would force -myself to think it an hallucination.</p> - -<p>The day after my return I received a letter from my friend Albert. It -was edged with black. I opened it with a vague fear.</p> - -<p>His wife had died the day of my return.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="FROM_THE_TOMB" id="FROM_THE_TOMB"></a>FROM THE TOMB.<br /><br /> -<small>TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF DE MAUPASSANT BY E. C. WAGGENER.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> guests filed slowly into the hotel’s great dining-hall and took -their places, the waiters began to serve them leisurely, to give the -tardy ones time to arrive and to save themselves the bother of bringing -back the courses; and the old bathers, the yearly habitues, with whom -the season was far advanced, kept a close watch on the door each time it -opened, hoping for the coming of new faces.</p> - -<p>New faces! the single distraction of all pleasure resorts. We go to -dinner chiefly to canvass the daily arrivals, to wonder who they are, -what they do and what they think. A restless desire seems to have taken -possession of us, a longing for pleasant adventures, for friendly -acquaintances, perhaps, for possible lovers. In this elbow-to-elbow life -our unknown neighbors become of paramount importance. Curiosity is -piqued, sympathy on the alert and the social instinct doubly active.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span></p> - -<p>We have hatreds for a week, friendships for a month, and view all men -with the special eyes of watering-place intimacy. Sometimes during an -hour’s chat after dinner, under the trees of the park, where ripples a -healing spring, we discover men of superior intellect and surprising -merit, and a month later have wholly forgotten these new friends, so -charming at first sight.</p> - -<p>There, too, more specially than elsewhere, serious and lasting ties are -formed. We see each other every day, we learn to know each other very -soon, and in the affection that springs up so rapidly between us there -is mingled much of the sweet abandon of old and tried intimates. And -later on, how tender are the memories cherished of the first hours of -this friendship, of the first communion in which the soul came to light, -of the first glances that questioned and responded to the secret -thoughts and interrogatories the lips have not dared yet to utter, of -the first cordial confidence and delicious sensation of opening one’s -heart to someone who has seemed to lay bare to you his own! The very -dullness of the hours, as it were, the monotony of days all alike, but -renders more complete the rapid budding and blooming of friendship’s -flower.</p> - -<p>That evening, then, as on every evening, we awaited the appearance of -unfamiliar faces.</p> - -<p>There came only two, but very peculiar ones, those of a man and a -woman—father and daughter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span> They seemed to have stepped from the pages -of some weird legend; and yet there was an attraction about them, albeit -an unpleasant one, that made me set them down at once as the victims of -some fatality.</p> - -<p>The father was tall, spare, a little bent, with hair blanched white; too -white for his still young countenance, and in his manner and about his -person the sedate austerity of carriage that bespeaks the Puritan. The -daughter was, possibly, some twenty-four or twenty-five years of age. -She was very slight, emaciated, her exceedingly pale countenance bearing -a languid, spiritless expression; one of those people whom we sometimes -encounter, apparently too weak for the cares and tasks of life, too -feeble to move or do the things that we must do every day. Nevertheless -the girl was pretty, with the ethereal beauty of an apparition. It was -she, undoubtedly, who came for the benefit of the waters.</p> - -<p>They chanced to be placed at table immediately opposite to me; and I was -not long in noticing that the father, too, had a strange affection, -something wrong about the nerves it seemed. Whenever he was going to -reach for anything, his hand, with a jerky twitch, described a sort of -fluttering zig-zag, before he was able to grasp what he was after. Soon, -the motion disturbed me so much, I kept my head turned in order not to -see it. But not before I had also observed that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span> young girl kept her -glove on her left hand while she ate.</p> - -<p>Dinner ended, I went out as usual for a turn in the grounds belonging to -the establishment. A sort of park, I might say, stretching clear to the -little station of Auvergne, Chatel-Guyon, nestling in a gorge at the -foot of the high mountain, from which flowed the sparkling, bubbling -springs, hot from the furnace of an ancient volcano. Beyond us there, -the domes, small extinct craters—of which Chatel-Guyon is the starting -point—raised their serrated heads above the long chain; while beyond -the domes came two distinct regions, one of them, needle-like peaks, the -other of bold, precipitous mountains.</p> - -<p>It was very warm that evening, and I contented myself with pacing to and -fro under the rustling trees, gazing at the mountains and listening to -the strains of the band, pouring from the Casino, situated on a knoll -that overlooked the grounds.</p> - -<p>Presently, I perceived the father and daughter coming toward me with -slow steps. I bowed to them in that pleasant Continental fashion with -which one always salutes his hotel companions. The gentleman halted at -once.</p> - -<p>“Pardon me, sir,” said he, “but may I ask if you can direct us to a -short walk, easy and pretty, if possible?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” I answered, and offered to lead<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span> them myself to the valley -through which the swift river flows—a deep, narrow cleft between two -great declivities, rocky and wooded.</p> - -<p>They accepted, and as we walked, we naturally discussed the virtue of -the mineral waters. They had, as I had surmised, come there on his -daughter’s account.</p> - -<p>“She has a strange malady,” said he, “the seat of which her physicians -cannot determine. She suffers from the most inexplicable nervous -symptoms. Sometimes they declare her ill of a heart disease; sometimes -of a liver complaint; again of a spinal trouble. At present they -attribute it to the stomach—that great motor and regulator of the -body—this Protean disease of a thousand forms, a thousand modes of -attack. It is why we are here. I, myself, think it is her nerves. In any -case it is sad.”</p> - -<p>This reminded me of his own jerking hand.</p> - -<p>“It may be hereditary,” said I, “your own nerves are a little disturbed, -are they not?”</p> - -<p>“Mine?” he answered, tranquilly. “Not at all, I have always possessed -the calmest nerves.” Then, suddenly, as if bethinking himself:</p> - -<p>“For this,” touching his hand, “is not nerves, but the result of a -shock, a terrible shock that I suffered once. Fancy it, sir, this child -of mine has been buried alive!”</p> - -<p>I could find nothing to say, I was dumb with surprise.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span></p> - -<p>“Yes,” he continued, “buried alive; but hear the story, it is not long. -For some time past Juliette had seemed affected with a disordered action -of the heart. We were finally certain that the trouble was organic and -feared the worst. One day it came, she was brought in lifeless—dead. -She had fallen dead while walking in the garden. Physicians came in -haste, but nothing could be done. She was gone. For two days and nights -I watched beside her myself, and with my own hands placed her in her -coffin, which I followed to the cemetery and saw placed in the family -vault. This was in the country, in the province of Lorraine.</p> - -<p>“It had been my wish, too, that she should be buried in her jewels, -bracelets, necklace and rings, all presents that I had given her, and in -her first ball dress. You can imagine, sir, the state of my heart in -returning home. She was all that I had left, my wife had been dead for -many years. I returned, in truth, half mad, shut myself alone in my room -and fell into my chair dazed, unable to move, merely a miserable, -breathing wreck.</p> - -<p>“Soon my old valet, Prosper, who had helped me place Juliette in her -coffin and lay her away for her last sleep, came in noiselessly to see -if he could not induce me to eat. I shook my head, answering nothing. He -persisted:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Monsieur is wrong; this will make him ill.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span> Will monsieur allow me, -then, to put him to bed?’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>No, no,’ I answered. ‘Let me alone.’</p> - -<p>“He yielded and withdrew.</p> - -<p>“How many hours passed I do not know. What a night! What a night! It was -very cold; my fire of logs had long since burned out in the great -fireplace; and the wind, a wintry blast, charged with an icy frost, -howled and screamed about the house and strained at my windows with a -curiously sinister sound.</p> - -<p>“Long hours, I say, rolled by. I sat still where I had fallen, -prostrated, overwhelmed; my eyes wide open, but my body strengthless, -dead; my soul drowned in despair. Suddenly the great bell gave a loud -peal.</p> - -<p>“I gave such a leap that my chair cracked under me. The slow, solemn -sound rang through the empty house. I looked at the clock.</p> - -<p>“It was two in the morning. Who could be coming at such an hour?</p> - -<p>“Twice again the bell pulled sharply. The servants would never answer, -perhaps never hear it. I took up a candle and made my way to the door. I -was about to demand:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Who is there?’ but, ashamed of the weakness, nerved myself and drew -back the bolts. My heart throbbed, my pulse beat, I threw back the panel -brusquely and there, in the darkness, saw a shape like a phantom, -dressed in white.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span></p> - -<p>“I recoiled, speechless with anguish, stammering:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Who—who are you?’</p> - -<p>“A voice answered:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>It is I, father.’</p> - -<p>“It was my child, Juliette.</p> - -<p>“Truly, I thought myself mad. I shuddered, shrinking backward before the -specter as it advanced, gesticulating with my hand to ward off the -apparition. It is that gesture which has never left me.</p> - -<p>“Again the phantom spoke:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Father, father! See, I am not dead. Someone came to rob me of my -jewels—they cut off my finger—the—the flowing blood revived me.’</p> - -<p>“And I saw then that she was covered with blood. I fell to my knees -panting, sobbing, laughing, all in one. As soon as I regained my senses, -but still so bewildered I scarcely comprehended the happiness that had -come to me, I took her in my arms, carried her to her room, and rang -frantically for Prosper to rekindle the fire, bring a warm drink for -her, and go for the doctor.</p> - -<p>“He came running, entered, gazed a moment at my daughter in the -chair—gave a gasp of fright and horror and fell back—dead.</p> - -<p>“It was he who had opened the vault, who had wounded and robbed my -child, and then abandoned her; for he could not efface all trace of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span> -deed; and he had not even taken the trouble to return the coffin to its -niche; sure, besides, of not being suspected by me, who trusted him so -fully. We are truly very unfortunate people, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>He was silent.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the night had come on, enveloping in the gloom the still and -solitary little valley; a sort of mysterious dread seemed to fall upon -me in presence of these strange beings—this corpse come to life, and -this father with his painful gestures.</p> - -<p>“Let us return,” said I, “the night has grown chill.”</p> - -<p>And still in silence, we retraced our steps back to the hotel, and I -shortly afterward returned to the city. I lost all further knowledge of -the two peculiar visitors to my favorite summer resort.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SANDYS_GHOST" id="SANDYS_GHOST"></a>SANDY’S GHOST.</h2> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Commerdations fer the night, stranger? Waal, yes; I reckon we can fix -a place fer you. Hev a cheer an’ set you down.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you. Don’t you find this rather a lonely place—no neighbors, no -nothing, that I can see? How came you to settle here, so far removed -from other habitations?”</p> - -<p>“Waal, perhaps it’s best not ter ask too many questions ter once.”</p> - -<p>“Beg your pardon. No offense was intended, I assure you. Simply idle -curiosity.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t say ’nuther word, stranger, but come in an’ we’ll hev a snack fer -supper. Polly, bring on the victu’ls. Yer jes’ in time.”</p> - -<p>Polly at once obeyed. She was a typical Western girl—tall, lithe, -graceful and limpid-eyed. She was clear-skinned and high-spirited, too, -and in this case ignorant through no fault of her own. John Barr’s eyes -scanned her intently, and a flush came to her cheeks. For the first time -in her life she was unpleasantly conscious of her bare feet. It may have -been this that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span> made her stumble and spill some of the contents of an -earthen bowl over the guest’s knees as she placed it on the table.</p> - -<p>Her eyes flashed and a tear of anger twinkled on the lashes. She -stopped, half meaning to apologize, but an oath from her father caused -her to set the bowl down heavily and to hurry from the cabin. A moment -later Barr saw a flutter of pink calico from behind a pile of rocks. Old -Kit Robinson saw it, too.</p> - -<p>“Don’t wonder at yer sayin’ ’tain’t right. She’s a sma’t gal, and a good -looker, too, as should hev been sent away frum here ter school ter be -eddicated. But she won’t leave her no ’count dad. I orter be shot fer -cussin’ her. But I ain’t what I use ter be. Settin’ here an’ keepin’ -guard makes me narvous.”</p> - -<p>Barr’s eyes asked the question his lips refused to speak. Supper eaten, -the men went outside and sat with their chairs tilted back against the -cabin. Something in the younger man’s frank face had softened old Kit -into a reminiscent mood and made him strangely inclined to gratify an -idle curiosity.</p> - -<p>The soft evening winds sighed through the branches of the tall spruce -pines, and the declining rays of the setting sun caused the shadow of -the rude home to stretch out longer across the greensward. From its -shelter where he sat John Barr looked out on the grand ranges of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span> -Rockies and wondered where in their vastness he would find the man he -sought—the finding of whom had brought him out into this wild and -almost forsaken mining camp.</p> - -<p>“Stranger, I’ve took a likin’ ter you. Ye’ve a sumthin’ about you thet -reminds me of sum one I know, an’ you look like an honest chap. Say, do -you b’lieve in ghosts?”</p> - -<p>He put the question very suddenly, and a look of disappointment crossed -his face when Barr told him that he did not believe in spooks.</p> - -<p>“Waal, I’ve seen ’em!”</p> - -<p>A thought connecting the pink calico with something in the past came to -Barr’s mind.</p> - -<p>“Can’t you tell me about it?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“I’d like ter if you’ll sw’ar, on yer derringer, never ter blab. Will -you sw’ar?”</p> - -<p>The solitary guest started to smile, but the smile faded at the thought -of unshed tears in Polly’s eyes. It might make it easier for her if he -humored the old man.</p> - -<p>“I’ll swear,” he said. And he did.</p> - -<p>“Do you see yan old spruce at the turn of the trail an’ the cliff jes’ -above? Waal, thet’s the spot I’m watchin’ an’ guardin’ till the owner -cums ter claim it. I’m quick ter burn powder an’ a pretty sure shot. I -know a man when I sees him, an’ I ain’t easy fooled. Waal, ter begin -with, I had a pardner once, an’ he wuz a man, sure ’nough. He wuz frum -the State of New<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span> York. I never axed him as ter how so fine a gent cum -ter be diggin’ an’ shov’lin’ in the Rockies, though ter myself I said -thar wuz sum good reason. He had light hair, an’ we called him Sandy, -fer short, an’ he wuz jes’ erbout as gritty as sand. We wuz as unlike as -any two fellers you ever saw. He wuz quietlike an’ steady, an’ I wuz -sorter wild an’ reckless an’ liked mounting dew mos’ too well. Waal, -when we had a little dust scraped together, we would divvy, an’ I tuk my -share way down ter the station on the other side of the cliffs an’ sent -it off ter the bank in Helena. But I allers left sum hid whar the gal -would find it. Old Sandy hed a bank of his own thet no one knew erbout, -’cepting hisself, an’ ev’ry time we divided he’d carry part of it ter -his hidin’ place, an’ then give the rest ter me ter send ter his boy, -thet he said wuz bein’ eddicated in sum college way up in Boston. He -seemed ter think a heap of thet boy. Arter awhile my old woman give out, -an’ soon we laid her away on the hillside. It wuz hard, stranger.”</p> - -<p>Old Kit’s voice failed him for a moment, but he quickly regained his -composure and continued:</p> - -<p>“But when old Sandy, my good old pard, give up I didn’t keer fer -nothin’. We buried him in style. All the boys frum round the diggin’s -wuz thar, an’ many an eye wuz wet. We didn’t hev nary a preacher, but -the gal she prayed at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span> grave. Fer the life of me I don’t know where -she larnt it. Reckon the old woman must hev told her. Next mornin’ the -gal showed me a letter thet Sandy give her jes’ afore he died. It wuz -ter his boy, an’ she wuz ter give it ter him if he ever cum out this -way, an’ she’s got it yet.</p> - -<p>“Thet same evenin’ after supper, feelin’ kinder glumish an’ like thar -wuz sumthin’ in my throat I couldn’t swaller, I tuk a stroll up the -gulch. I went on out ter the top of the edge of the big rock an’ got ter -studyin’ whar I’d find another pard like Sandy. All ter once I felt a -hand touch my shoulder kinder light once or twice. I jumped up, half -expectin’ it wuz Sandy, but it wuz only the gal. Waal, I wuz all tuk -back at fust, an’ then I got mad.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>What air you doin’ up here?’ I axed, kinder rough. She hed tears in -her eyes as she looked at me, an’ said:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Pap, don’t git mad. I wuz lonesum. I seed you cumin’ up this way, an’ -I follered you, ’cause I wanted ter tell you thet Sandy said ter give -his boy his pile when he cums.’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Waal,’ says I, ‘you might hev waited till I cum back ter the house.’ -An’ then I sent her back.</p> - -<p>“Arter she wuz gone I sot ter studyin’ whar in the world Sandy’s pile -wuz. I tried ter think whar could he hev hid it. But it warn’t no use. -All ter once I noticed it wuz plum dark, an’ as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span> these mountings ain’t a -he’lthy place fer a man ter roam in arter nightfall, especially if he -ain’t got his shootin’ irons on, I cut a pretty swift gait fer the -shack.</p> - -<p>“Jes’ as I cum round the bend thar at the pine I happened ter look up -terward the clift, an’ thar sot Sandy. Yes, sir. It wuz him sure as yer -born. My feet felt heavy as lead, an’ I couldn’t move frum the spot. I -tried ter holler, but it warn’t no go. Finally I gave a sudden jerk an’ -made a step terward him, an’ as I did so he disappeared. Then I made -tracks fer home. But I kept mum, ’cause I knowed the boys would say thet -mounting dew wuz lickin’ up my brains, an’ I would be seein’ snakes an’ -sich things afore long.</p> - -<p>“The next night sumhow er ’nuther I thought ter go an’ see if he wuz -thar ag’in, an’ sure ’nough, thar he sot, lookin’ kinder sad an’ making -marks on the rocks with his fingers. I hed my hand on my gun this time, -so I got a little closter than afore. But, by hookey, he got away from -me ag’in, nor did he cum back.</p> - -<p>“I could hardly wait fer the next night ter cum round. At the same time -I wuz on hand good an’ early, jes’ as it begun ter git dark, an’ the -trees looked like long spooks a-stretchin’ out their arms. I looked -terward the clift, an’ thar he sot a-markin’ an’ a-scratchin’ on the -rock with his fingers an’ still looking sad. Now, this bein’<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span> the third -time, I kinder got bold, an’ I went a little closter, an’ says:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Sandy, wha-what’s the ma-mat-matter with you? Didn’t the boys do the -plantin’ right fer you?’</p> - -<p>“Then as luck would hev it I thought of sumthin’ else right quick, an’ I -said:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Or is it the dust you hev hid whar yer sittin’?’</p> - -<p>“Waal, he looked up then, an’ the happiest smile cum ter his face, an’ -all ter once he disappeared ag’in. An’ since then I hev sot here an’ -guarded the place till the right one cums along ter claim it.</p> - -<p>“Let’s see. What did you say yer name wuz?”</p> - -<p>“Pardon me. I thought I had told you. My name is John Willett Barr.”</p> - -<p>“Polly, oh, Polly! Cum hyar, gal. What wuz Sandy’s full name? I plum -fergot.”</p> - -<p>“What you want ter know fer?” she asked. “I ain’t a-goin’ ter tell you -now. Thet’s my own secret.”</p> - -<p>“Cum, cum, gal. Tell me ter once, or it won’t be he’lthy fer you.”</p> - -<p>“Waal, then,” she answered stubbornly, “it’s John Willett Barr.”</p> - -<p>At her reply the younger man’s face grew deathly pale, and he started up -from his chair, but Kit thrust him back into his seat, saying:</p> - -<p>“Bring me the letter, Polly.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span></p> - -<p>“What are you goin’ ter do with it, pa?” she inquired, cautiously.</p> - -<p>“I promised old Sandy on my oath ter keep it till the right one cums -erlong ter claim it, an’ I mean ter keep my word. The right one is here, -gal. Thar he sits. So trot thet letter out, an’ don’t parley long with -me if you knows when yer well off.”</p> - -<p>Polly stared at the younger man in utter bewilderment for a moment. -Then, turning slowly, she stepped quietly into the cabin after the -precious document; an unusual gleam of joy lighted up her face and a -suppressed excitement shone in her eyes. Under her breath she said: -“Sumhow er ruther I felt he wuz the right one.”</p> - -<p>Too truly, John Barr realized in that painful moment that he whom he -sought was now dead to him; that the father from whom he had been parted -so many years was sleeping that long, dreamless sleep in the clay mound -on the hillside, which marked his last resting place. As he turned to -look at the face of old, honest Kit, who had been his father’s friend -during those long years of forced exile, a happy smile lit up the old -miner’s rugged features as he pointed with his finger to the rock cliff -near the old spruce vine, and said, in an exultant, trembling voice:</p> - -<p>“Thar he be, stranger—jes’ as I hev seen him many a night—yer dad—my -pard—pore old Sandy!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span></p> - -<p>With an eager voice John Barr sprang forward, and the mountains echoed -and re-echoed the plaintive cry of “Father! Father!” But his -outstretched arms clasped only emptiness and the darkening shadows of -the rapidly approaching night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_GHOSTS_OF_RED_CREEK" id="THE_GHOSTS_OF_RED_CREEK"></a>THE GHOSTS OF RED CREEK.<br /><br /> -<small>BY S. T.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">To</span> the northward of Mississippi City and its neighbor, Handsboro, there -extends a tract of pine forest for miles with but few habitations -scattered through it. Black and Red Creeks, with their numerous -branches, drain this region into the Pascagoula River to the eastward. -With the swamps of Pascagoula as a refuge, and the luxuriant and -unfrequented bottoms of Red and Black Creeks to browse upon, there are -few choicer spots for deer. Knowing this fact, a small party of -gentlemen on the day before a crisp, cold Christmas, started from -Handsboro in a large four-wheeled wagon for a thirty-mile drive into -this wilderness of pine and a week’s sport after the deer. The guide was -Jim Caruthers, a true woodsman, and the driver and general factotum, a -jolly negro named Jack Lyons, than whom no one could make a better -hoe-cake and cook a venison steak. His laugh could be heard a quarter of -a mile, and his good nature was as expansive as the range of the -laughter.</p> - -<p>The usual experiences of a hunting camp were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span> heartily enjoyed during -the first days of this life out of doors; but its cream did not rise -until about the fifth night, when, from familiar intercourse, Jack Lyons -became loquacious, and after the day’s twenty or twenty-five-mile walk, -would spin yarns in front of the camp fire, which brought forgetfulness -of fatigue.</p> - -<p>The night before New Year’s was intensely cold. The cold north wind of -the afternoon had subsided at sunset, and only a gust now and again -touched the musical leaves of the pines, making them vibrant with that -mournful score of nature’s operas which even maestros have failed to -catch.</p> - -<p>In front of two new and white tents two sportsmen reclined at length -within reach of the warmth of the fire, while opposite them rested at -ease the guide and the worthy Jack Lyons.</p> - -<p>Wearied with the day’s chase four stanch hounds—Ringwood, Rose, Jet and -Boxer—were dreaming of future quarry.</p> - -<p>The firelight brought out in bright relief the trunks of the tall pines -like cathedral columns, and sparkling through the leafy dome overhead -the scintillating stars glistened with a diamond brightness. A silence -which added its influence to the scene rested about the borders of the -creek below, and gave more effect to the story of the veteran teamster -than perhaps it otherwise would have had.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span></p> - -<p>“If de deer run down de creek,” said old Jack, smacking his lips over a -carefully prepared brewing of the real Campbellton punch, “wese boun’ to -see fun to-morrer, for dey’ll take us down thar by de old Gibbet’s -place. In daylight dere’s no place like it, but after nightfall, you bet -you wouldn’t catch dis nigger thar.”</p> - -<p>Old Jack was naturally asked why he didn’t care about visiting the -Gibbet’s place at night. Asking to be excused until he filled his pipe, -the silence was unbroken until his return. He piled on more pine knots -and commenced:</p> - -<p>“You kno’, gemmen, dat when de gunboats was in de sound we folks had to -travel way back hyar on dese roads outun de range of deir big guns. I -was ’gaged by Mr. Harrison in hauling salt from de factory at -Mississippi City, on de beach ober to Mobile, an’ I had been making a -trip ebery week or so. Dis back country road was neber thought ob by de -Federals, an’ we had good times long de way, no shells and no shootin’.</p> - -<p>“De nite, gemmen, I’se speakin’ of was a Friday, dat yous all knows is -unlucky. Well, you see, I hitched up Betsie an’ Rose in de lead, an’ ole -Fox an’ Blossom at de pole, an’ takes in de biggest load of salt dat -team eber carried. I starts out an’ crosses de Biloxi Riber at Han’sboro -jes’ as de moon was goin’ down. Yes, boss, dese roads weren’t no better -den now, an’ de rain<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span> had made ’em mighty rough when yer come to de -holes.</p> - -<p>“I sat in de seat whistlin’ ‘De Cows is in de Pea Patch,’ and a-thinkin’ -of Sarah Jamison, what was afterwards my wife, when I felt de off fore -wheel go ‘kersush’ in a hole up to de hub. I’d made seventeen miles out -ob Han’sboro. I did some cussin’, an’ den went to de fence, about twenty -yards off, an’ took out a rail to prize up de wheel. Den I saw I was at -Mister Gibbet’s place. I sez to myself, I’ll go up to de house an’ get -old Mr. Gibbet to give me a turn. I had done gone by dar two weeks afore -an’ seed de old man.</p> - -<p>“Now, gemmen, yer listen to me, for what I’se tellin’ yer is as sure as -Jinny’ll blow de horn on de las’ day. I walked up to de house an’ dar I -saw a bright light inside. It showed out froo de windows, an’ I saw -shadders of Miss Gibbet and Mrs. Gibbet on de window curtain—shore, -honeys, shore. De front do’ was shet, an’ I steps up on ter de gallery -an’ knocks wid de butt end of my whip. I didn’t knock loud, needer. God -bless us all, gemmen, de lights went out like dat, an’ I hears set up a -laugh, ha-ha-ha-ha. How dat set my knees a-shakin’. I opens de do’, an’ -dere was no sign of anybody. I struck a match an’ all de furniture was -moved out, an’ de old red curtain dat I fought I seed was in rags. De -whole family was gone, for shore. I didn’t kno’ ’zactly what to think -’bout dem strange voices,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span> but I started back to de wagon, when it -lightened, an’ bress God, dar in de front yard was six graves jes’ made. -Somefin’ wrong here, sed I; an’ I builds a fire by de wagon an’ digs de -wheel out. Jes’ den old Squire Pasture kem along de road from Mobile, -an’ he tells me de news. Ole man Gibbet cut de froats of his wife and -fore chillerns an’ shoot hisself in de head outun jealousy of his wife. -Dey was all buried in de front yard, an’ de house was deserted ten days -befo’.</p> - -<p>“Gemmen, when I hear dat, dem mules make de quickest time to Mobile eber -seed; an’ youse can tell me dar’s no ghosts, but yo’ don’ catch me roun’ -dat log house of Gibbet’s ’ceptin’ sun’s an hour high.”</p> - -<p>Jack looked suspiciously over his shoulder into the darkness and crawled -into his blanket, muttering:</p> - -<p>“It scares dis nigger eben now to tell ’bout dat night.”</p> - -<p>Sleep soon fell upon the camp, but the impression of old Jack’s story -survived the night, and the next day he still asserted its truth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_SPECTRE_BRIDE" id="THE_SPECTRE_BRIDE"></a>THE SPECTRE BRIDE.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> winter nights up at Sault Ste. Marie are as white and luminous as -the Milky Way. The silence that rests upon the solitude appears to be -white also. Nature has included sound in her arrestment. Save the still -white frost, all things are obliterated. The stars are there, but they -seem to belong to heaven and not to earth. They are at an immeasurable -height, and so black is the night that the opaque ether rolls between -them and the observer in great liquid billows.</p> - -<p>In such a place it is difficult to believe that the world is peopled to -any great extent. One fancies that Cain has just killed Abel, and that -there is need for the greatest economy in the matter of human life.</p> - -<p>The night Ralph Hagadorn started out for Echo Bay he felt as if he were -the only man in the world, so complete was the solitude through which he -was passing. He was going over to attend the wedding of his best friend, -and was, in fact, to act as the groomsman. Business had delayed him, and -he was compelled to make his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span> journey at night. But he hadn’t gone far -before he began to feel the exhilaration of the skater. His skates were -keen, his legs fit for a longer journey than the one he had undertaken, -and the tang of the frost was to him what a spur is to a spirited horse.</p> - -<p>He cut through the air as a sharp stone cleaves the water. He could feel -the tumult of the air as he cleft it. As he went on he began to have -fancies. It seemed to him that he was enormously tall—a great Viking of -the Northland, hastening over icy fiords to his love. That reminded him -that he had a love—though, indeed, that thought was always present with -him as a background for other thoughts. To be sure, he had not told her -she was his love, because he had only seen her a few times and the -opportunity had not presented itself. She lived at Echo Bay, too, and -was to be the maid of honor to his friend’s bride—which was another -reason why he skated on almost as swiftly as the wind, and why, now and -then, he let out a shout of exhilaration.</p> - -<p>The one drawback in the matter was that Marie Beaujeu’s father had -money, and that Marie lived in a fine house and wore otter skin about -her throat and little satin-lined mink boots on her feet when she went -sledding, and that the jacket in which she kept a bit of her dead -mother’s hair had a black pearl in it as big as a pea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span> These things -made it difficult—nay, impossible—for Ralph Hagadorn to say anything -more than “I love you.” But that much he meant to have the satisfaction -of saying, no matter what came of it.</p> - -<p>With this determination growing upon him he swept along the ice which -gleamed under the starlight. Indeed, Venus made a glowing path toward -the west and seemed to reassure him. He was sorry he could not skim down -that avenue of light from the love star, but he was forced to turn his -back upon it and face toward the northeast.</p> - -<p>It came to him with a shock that he was not alone. His eyelashes were a -good deal frosted and his eyeballs blurred with the cold, and at first -he thought it an illusion. But he rubbed his eyes hard and at length -made sure that not very far in front of him was a long white skater in -fluttering garments who sped over the snows fast as ever werewolf went. -He called aloud, but there was no answer, and then he gave chase, -setting his teeth hard and putting a tension on his firm young muscles. -But however fast he might go the white skater went faster. After a time -he became convinced, as he chanced to glance for a second at the North -Star, that the white skater was leading him out of his direct path. For -a moment he hesitated, wondering if he should not keep to his road, but -the strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span> companion seemed to draw him on irresistibly, and so he -followed.</p> - -<p>Of course it came to him more than once that this might be no earthly -guide. Up in those latitudes men see strange things when the hoar frost -is on the earth. Hagadorn’s father, who lived up there with the Lake -Superior Indians and worked in the copper mines, had once welcomed a -woman at his hut on a bitter night who was gone by morning, and who left -wolf tracks in the snow—yes, it was so, and John Fontanelle, the -half-breed, could tell you about it any day—if he were alive. (Alack, -the snow where the wolf tracks were is melted now!)</p> - -<p>Well, Hagadorn followed the white skater all the night, and when the ice -flushed red at dawn and arrows of lovely light shot up into the cold -heavens, she was gone, and Hagadorn was at his destination. Then, as he -took off his skates while the sun climbed arrogantly up to his place -above all other things, Hagadorn chanced to glance lakeward, and he saw -there was a great wind-rift in the ice and that the waves showed blue as -sapphires beside the gleaming ice. Had he swept along his intended path, -watching the stars to guide him, his glance turned upward, all his body -at magnificent momentum, he must certainly have gone into that cold -grave. The white skater had been his guardian angel!</p> - -<p>Much impressed, he went up to his friend’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span> house, expecting to find -there the pleasant wedding furore. But someone met him quietly at the -door, and his friend came downstairs to greet him with a solemn -demeanor.</p> - -<p>“Is this your wedding face?” cried Hagadorn. “Why, really, if this is -the way you are affected, the sooner I take warning the better.”</p> - -<p>“There’s no wedding to-day,” said his friend.</p> - -<p>“No wedding? Why, you’re not——”</p> - -<p>“Marie Beaujeu died last night——”</p> - -<p>“Marie——”</p> - -<p>“Died last night. She had been skating in the afternoon, and she came -home chilled and wandering in her mind, as if the frost had got in it -somehow. She got worse and worse and talked all the time of you.”</p> - -<p>“Of me?”</p> - -<p>“We wondered what it all meant. We didn’t know you were lovers.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know it myself; more’s the pity.”</p> - -<p>“She said you were on the ice. She said you didn’t know about the big -breaking up, and she cried to us that the wind was off shore. Then she -cried that you could come in by the old French Creek if you only -knew——?”</p> - -<p>“I came in that way,” interrupted Hagadorn.</p> - -<p>“How did you come to do that? It’s out of your way.”</p> - -<p>So Hagadorn told him how it came to pass.</p> - -<p>And that day they watched beside the maiden,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span> who had tapers at her head -and feet, and over in the little church the bride who might have been at -her wedding said prayers for her friend. Then they buried her in her -bridesmaid’s white, and Hagadorn was there before the altar with her, as -he intended from the first. At midnight the day of the burial her -friends were married in the gloom of the cold church, and they walked -together through the snow to lay their bridal wreaths on her grave.</p> - -<p>Three nights later Hagadorn started back again to his home. They wanted -him to go by sunlight, but he had his way and went when Venus made her -bright path on the ice. He hoped for the companionship of the white -skater. But he did not have it. His only companion was the wind. The -only voice he heard was the baying of a wolf on the north shore. The -world was as white as if it had just been created and the sun had not -yet colored nor man defiled it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="HOW_HE_CAUGHT_THE_GHOST" id="HOW_HE_CAUGHT_THE_GHOST"></a>HOW HE CAUGHT THE GHOST.</h2> - -<p>“Yes, the house is a good one,” said the agent; “it’s in a good -neighborhood, and you’re getting it at almost nothing; but I think it -right to tell you all about it. You are orphans, you say, and with a -mother dependent on you? That makes it all the more necessary that you -should know. The fact is, the house is said to be haunted——”</p> - -<p>The agent could not help smiling as he said it, and he was relieved to -see an answering smile on the two faces before him.</p> - -<p>“Ah, you don’t believe in ghosts,” he went on; “nor do I, for that -matter; but, somehow, the reputation of the house keeps me from having a -tenant long at a time. The place ought to rent for twice as much as it -does.”</p> - -<p>“If we succeed in driving out the ghost, you will not raise the rent?” -asked the boy, with a merry twinkle in his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Well, no—not this year, at any rate,” laughed the agent. And so the -house was rented; and the slip of a girl and the tall lad, her brother, -went their way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span></p> - -<p>Within a week the family had moved into the house, and were delighted -with it. It was large and cool, with wide halls and fine stairways, and -with more room than they needed. But that did not matter in the least, -for they had always been cramped in small houses, suffering many -discomforts; and they never could have afforded such a place as this if -it had not been “haunted.”</p> - -<p>“Blessings on the ghost!” cried Margaret, gaily, as she ran about as -merry as a child. “Who would be without a ghost in the house, when it -brings one like this?”</p> - -<p>“And it is so near your school,” said the mother; “and I used to worry -so over the long walk; and David can come home to lunch now, and you -don’t know what a pleasure that will be.”</p> - -<p>“It seems to me,” David gravely explained, “that if I should meet the -ghost I would treat him with the greatest politeness and encourage him -to stay. We shall not miss the room he takes, shall we? I think it would -be well to set aside that room over yours, Maggie, for his ghostship’s -own, for we shall not need that, you know. Besides, the door doesn’t -shut, and he can go in and out without breaking the lock.”</p> - -<p>And then they all laughed and had a great deal of fun over the ghost, -which was a great joke to them.</p> - -<p>They were very tired that night and slept soundly all night long. When -they met the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span> next morning there was more laughter about the ghost which -was shy about meeting strangers, probably, and had made no effort to -introduce himself. For the next three days they were all hard at work, -trying to bring chaos into something like order; and then it was time -for the school to open, and Margaret was to begin teaching, and David -inserted an advertisement in the city papers for a maid-of-all-work, who -might help their mother in their absence.</p> - -<p>For one whole day prospective colored servants presented themselves and -announced:</p> - -<p>“Is dis de house whar dey wants a worklady? No, ma’am, I ain’ gwine to -work in dis house. Ketch me workin’ in no ha’nted house.”</p> - -<p>After which they each and all departed, and others came in their stead. -One was secured after a while, but no sooner had she talked across the -fence with a neighbor’s servant than she, too, departed.</p> - -<p>“Never mind, children,” said Mrs. Craig, wearily, “I would much rather -do the work than be troubled in this way.”</p> - -<p>So the maid-of-all-work was dismissed and the Craig family locked the -doors and went to their rooms, worn out with the day’s anxieties.</p> - -<p>They had been in the house four days, and there had been neither sight -nor sound of the ghost. The very mention of it was enough to start them -all to laughing, for they were thoroughly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span> practical people, with a -fondness for inquiring into anything that seemed mysterious to them and -for understanding it thoroughly before they let it go.</p> - -<p>David was soon sleeping the sound sleep of healthy boyhood, and all was -silent in the house, when Margaret stole softly into his room and laid -her hand on his arm. He was not easy to waken, and several minutes had -passed before he sat up in bed with an articulate murmur of surprise.</p> - -<p>“Hush!” said Margaret, in a whisper, with her hand on his lips. “I want -you to come into my room and listen to a sound that I have been hearing -for some time.”</p> - -<p>“Doors creaking,” suggested David, as he began to dress.</p> - -<p>“Nothing of the kind,” was all she said.</p> - -<p>They walked up the stairway, and along the upper hall to the door of the -unused room. Something was wrong with the lock and the door would not -stay fastened, as I have said.</p> - -<p>Something that was not fear thrilled their hearts as they pushed the -door further ajar, and stood where they could see every foot of the -vacant floor. One of their own boxes stood in the middle of the room, -but aside from that, nothing was to be seen, and they looked at one -another in silence.</p> - -<p>“Hold the lamp a minute, Maggie,” David said, at last, and then he went -all over the room, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span> looked more particularly at its emptiness, and -even felt the walls.</p> - -<p>“Secret panels, you know,” he said, with a smile, but it was a very -puzzled smile indeed.</p> - -<p>“I can’t see what it could have been,” Margaret said, as they went down -the stairs.</p> - -<p>“No, I can’t see, either, but I’m going to see,” said David. “That was a -chain, and chains don’t drag around by themselves, you know. A ghost -could not drag a chain, if he were to try.”</p> - -<p>“The conventional ghost very often drags chains,” said Margaret, as she -closed the door of her room.</p> - -<p>And then she lay awake all night and listened for the conventional ghost -that dragged a chain, but it seemed that the weight of the chain must -have wearied him, for he was not heard again.</p> - -<p>The mother had slept through it all, and next morning they gave her a -vivid account of the night’s adventure.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it was someone in the house,” she said, in alarm. There were no -ghosts within the bounds of possibility, so far as she was concerned, -but burglars were very possible, indeed.</p> - -<p>Then Margaret and David both laughed more than ever.</p> - -<p>“What fun it would be,” said David, “for a burglar to get into this -house and try to find something worth carrying away!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span></p> - -<p>So they went on to the next night, all three fully determined to spend -the night in listening for the ghost, and running him to earth if -possible.</p> - -<p>But it was Margaret that heard the ghost, after all. She had been -sleeping and was suddenly startled wide awake, and there, overhead, was -the sound of the chain dragging; and just as she was on the point of -springing out of bed to call her brother, the chain seemed to go out of -the upper room. She lay still and listened, and in a moment she heard it -again.</p> - -<p>It was coming down the stairs.</p> - -<p>There was no carpet on the stairs, and she could hear the chain drop -from step to step, until it had come the whole way down. There it was, -almost at the door of her room, and something that was strangely like -fear kept her lying still, listening in horrified silence.</p> - -<p>Then it went along the hall, dragging close to the door; and then -further away; and back and forth for awhile; and then it began dragging -back up the stairs again. Step by step she could hear it drawn over the -edge of every step—and by the time it had reached the top she -remembered herself and called David.</p> - -<p>Again did the brother and sister make a tour of the upper room, with the -lamp. Not only that, but they looked into every nook and corner of the -upper part of the house, and at last came<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span> back, baffled. They had seen -nothing extraordinary, and they had not heard a sound.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to see that ghost to-night,” David said to his sister the -next evening.</p> - -<p>“How?”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to sit up all night at the head of the stairs. Don’t say -anything about it to mother; it might make her uneasy.”</p> - -<p>So, after the household were all quiet, David slipped into his place at -the head of the stairs, and sat down to his vigil. He had placed a -screen at the head of the stairway so that it hid him from view—as if a -ghost cared for a screen—and he established himself behind it, and -prepared to be as patient as he could.</p> - -<p>It seemed to him that hours so long had never been devised as those the -town clocks tolled off that night. He bore it until midnight moderately -well, because, he argued with himself, if there were any ghosts about -they would surely walk then; but they were not in a humor for walking; -and still the hours rolled on without any developments. He took the -fidgets, and had nervous twitches all over him, and at last he could -endure it no longer, and had leaned his head back against the wall and -was going blissfully to sleep when——</p> - -<p>He heard a chain dragging just beyond the open door of that unused room.</p> - -<p>In spite of himself a shiver ran down his back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span> There was no mistaking -it; it was a real chain, if he had ever heard one. More than that, it -had left the room, and was coming straight towards the stairs. The hall -was dark, and it was impossible for him to see anything, although he -strained his eyes in the direction of the sound. And even while he -looked it had passed behind the screen, and was going down the stairs, -dropping from step to step with a clank.</p> - -<p>Half way down a narrow strip of moonlight from a stair-window lay -directly across the steps. Whatever the thing was, it must pass through -that patch of light, and David leaned forward and watched.</p> - -<p>Down it went from step to step, and presently it had slipped through the -light, and was down; and a little later it came back again, through the -light, and up the stairs, and back into that unused room.</p> - -<p>And then David slapped his knees jubilantly, and ran down to his room, -and slept all the rest of the night.</p> - -<p>Next morning he was very mysterious about his discoveries of the night -before.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I saw the ghost,” he said to Maggie. “There; don’t ask so many -questions; I’ll tell you more about it to-morrow, maybe.”</p> - -<p>And that was all the information she could get from him. It was very -provoking.</p> - -<p>That day David made a purchase down town<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span> and brought home a bulky -bundle, which he hid in his own room and would not let his sister even -peep at.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to try to catch a ghost to-night,” he said, “and you know how -it is; if I brag too much beforehand, I shall be sure to fail.”</p> - -<p>He was working with something in the hall after the others had retired; -but he did not sit up this time. He went to bed, and Margaret listened -at his door and found that he was soon asleep.</p> - -<p>But away in the night they were all awakened by a squealing that brought -them all into the hall in a great hurry; and there, at the head of the -stairs, they found the huge rat-trap that David had set a few hours -before, and in the midst of the toils was a rat.</p> - -<p>“Why, David,” exclaimed the mother, “I didn’t know that there was a rat -in the house.”</p> - -<p>And then, all at once, she saw that there was a long chain hanging from -a little iron collar around the creature’s neck, and she and Margaret -cried together.</p> - -<p>“And this was the ghost!”</p> - -<p>Such a funny ghost when they came to think of it—this poor rat, with a -nest in some hole of the broken chimney. He had been someone’s pet, -once, perhaps; and now, the households he had broken up, the nights he -had disturbed, the wild sensations he had created—it made his captors<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span> -laugh to think that this innocent creature had been the cause of the -whole trouble.</p> - -<p>“I’ll get a cage for him, and take care of him for the rest of his -life,” said David. “We owe him so much that we can’t afford to be -ungrateful.”</p> - -<p>The next morning he took the ghost-in-a-cage and showed it to the agent, -and gave him a vivid account of the capture.</p> - -<p>“So, you have a good house for about half price, all on account of that -rat,” exclaimed the agent, grimly. “Young man—but never mind, you -deserve it. What are you working for now? Six dollars a week? If you -ever want to change your place—suppose you come around here. I think -you need a business that will give you a chance to grow.”</p> - -<p>And the agent and David shook hands warmly over the cage of the -“ghost.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="GRAND-DAMES_GHOST_STORY" id="GRAND-DAMES_GHOST_STORY"></a>GRAND-DAME’S GHOST STORY.<br /><br /> -<small>BY C. D.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">I don’t</span> know whether you ever tell your children ghost stories or not; -some mothers don’t, but our mother, though of German descent, was -strong-minded on the ghost subject, and early taught all of her children -to be fearless mentally as well as physically, and, though dearly fond -of hearing ghost stories, especially if they were real true ghosts, we -were sadly skeptical as to their being anything of the kind that could -harm. We were quite learned in ghostly lore, knew all about -“doppeigangers,” “Will o’ the Wisp,” “blue lights,” etc., and we could -not have a greater treat for good behavior than for our mother to draw -on her store of supernatural tales for our entertainment. The story I am -about to relate she told us one stormy night, when, gathered round her -chair in her own cozy sanctum, before a cheerful fire, we ate nuts and -apples, and listened while she recited “an o’er true tale,” told her by -her grandmother, who herself witnessed the vision:</p> - -<p>It was a fearful night, the wind sobbed and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>{145}</span> wailed round the house like -lost spirits mourning their doom; the rain beat upon the casements, and -the trees, writhing in the torture of the fierce blast, groaned and -swayed until their tops almost swept the earth; bright flashes of -lightning pierced even through the closed shutters and heavy curtains, -and the thunder had a sullen, threatening roar that made your blood -creep. It was a night to make one seek to shut out all sound, draw the -curtains close, stir the fire and nestle deep in the arm-chair before -it, with feet upon the fender, and have something cheerful to think or -talk about. But I was all alone; none in the house with me but the -servants, and the servants’ wing was detached from the main part of the -building, for I do not care to have menials near me, and I had no loved -ones near.</p> - -<p>It was just such a night that Nancy Black died. “What a fearful night -for the soul to leave its earthly home and go out into the vast, unknown -future!” I spoke aloud, as, rousing from a train of thought, I drew my -heavy mantle closer round me, wheeled my arm-chair nearer the fire, and -cuddled down in it, burying my feet in the foot-cushion to warm them, -for I felt strangely cold. I was in the library; it was my usual -sitting-room, for I seldom used the parlors. What was the use? My books -were my friends, and I loved best to be with them. My children dead, or -married and away, the cold, grand parlors always<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a>{146}</span> seemed gloomy and sad; -the ghosts of departed pleasures haunted them, and I cared not to enter -them.</p> - -<p>It was a long, wide room across the hall from the parlors, running the -whole length of the house, and was lined with shelves from floor to -ceiling. My husband’s father had been a bibliomaniac, and my husband had -had a leaning that way also, and the shelves held many an old rare work -that was worth its weight in gold. The fire, though burning brightly, -did not illume one-half the room of which, sitting in the chimney -corner, I commanded a full view, and had been looking at the shadows -playing on the furniture and shelves, as the flame shot up, and after -flickering a moment, would die out, leaving a gloom which would break -away into fantastic shadows as the firelight would again shoot up.</p> - -<p>While watching the gleams of light and darkling shades, unconsciously -the wailing of the storm outside attracted my attention, there seemed to -be odd noises of tapping on the windows, and sobs and sighs, as though -someone was entreating entrance from the fierce tumult; and as I sat -there, again I thought of Nancy Black, the old schoolgirl friend who had -loved me so dearly, and the night when she went forth to meet the doom -appointed her; resting my head upon my hand, I sat gazing in the fire, -thinking over her strange life, and still stranger death, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>{147}</span> wondering -what could have become of the money and jewels that I knew she had once -possessed.</p> - -<p>While sitting thus, a queer sensation crept over me; it was not fear, -but a feeling as though if I’d look up I’d see something frightful; a -shiver, not like that of cold, ran from my head to my feet, and a -sensation as though someone was breathing icy cold breath upon my -forehead, the same feeling you would cause by holding a piece of ice to -your cheek; it fluttered over my face and finally settled round my lips, -as though the unseen one was caressing me, thrilling me with horror. But -I am not fearful, nervous nor imaginative, and resolutely throwing off -the dread that fell upon me, I turned round and looked up, and there, so -close by my side that my hand, involuntarily thrown out, passed through -her seeming form, stood Nancy Black. It was Nancy Black, and yet not -Nancy Black; her whole body had a semi-transparent appearance, just as -your hand looks when you hold it between yourself and a strong light; -her clothing, apparently the same as worn in life, had a wavy, seething, -flickering look, like flames have, and yet did not seem to burn.</p> - -<p>“In the name of God, Nancy Black, what brought you here, and whence came -you?” I exclaimed.</p> - -<p>A hollow whisper followed:</p> - -<p>“Thank you, my old friend, for speaking to me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>{148}</span> and, oh, how deeply I -thank you for thinking of me to-night—I shall have rest.”</p> - -<p>Rest! I heard echoed, and a jeering laugh rang through the room that -made her quiver at its sound.</p> - -<p>“I have been near you often; but always failed to find you in a -condition when you would be en rapport before to-night. What I came for -I will tell you; whence I come, you need not know; suffice it to say, -that were I happy I would not be here on such an errand, nor on such a -night—it is only when the elements are in a tumult, and the winds wail -and moan, that we come forth. When you hear these sounds it is souls of -the lost you hear mourning their doom—’tis then they wander up and -down, to and fro, their only release from their fearful home of torture -and undying pain.</p> - -<p>“I have come to tell you that you must go over to the old house, and in -the back room I always kept locked, have the carpet taken up from toward -the fireplace. You will see a plank with a knot-hole in it. Remove that, -and you will find what caused me to lose my soul—have prayers said for -me, for ’tis well to pray for the dead. The money and jewels give in -charity; bury in holy ground the others you find, and pray for them and -me. Ah! Jeannette, you thought your old friend, though strange and odd, -pure and innocent. It is a bitter part of my punishment<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>{149}</span> that I must -change your thought of me. Farewell! Do not fail me, and I shall trouble -you no more. But whenever you hear that wind howl and sweep round the -house as it does to-night, know that the lost are near. It is their -swift flight through space—fleeing before the scourge of memory and -conscience—that causes that sound.</p> - -<p>“That to-morrow you may not think you are dreaming, here is a token,” -and she touched the palm of my hand with her finger-tips, and as you -see, my child, to this day, there are three crimson spots in the palm of -my hand that nothing will eradicate.</p> - -<p>“Do not fail me, and pray for us, Jeannette, pray,” and with a longing, -wistful gaze, and a deep, sobbing sigh, Nancy Black faded from my sight.</p> - -<p>“Am I dreaming?” I exclaimed, as I rose from my chair and rang the bell. -When the servant entered, I bade him attend to the fire and light the -lamps, and I went through the room to see if any unusual arrangement of -the furniture could have caused the appearance, but nothing was -apparent, and I bade him send my maid to attend me in my chamber, for I -could not help feeling unwilling to remain in the library any longer -that evening.</p> - -<p>While making my toilet for the night my maid said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>{150}</span></p> - -<p>“Have you burned your hand, madam?”</p> - -<p>Glancing hastily down, I saw three dark crimson spots upon the palm of -my left hand. They had an odd look, seared as though touched by a -red-hot iron, yet the flesh was soft, not burned and not painful. Making -some excuse for it, I did not allude to it again, and dismissed her -speedily, that I might reflect undisturbed over the singular occurrence. -There were the marks upon my hand; I could not remove them, and they did -not fade. In fact, their deep red made the rest of the palm lose its -pinkish hue and look pale from the strong contrast. Could I have been -asleep and dreamed it all, and by any means have done this to myself? I -thought, but finally concluded that on the morrow I’d go over to Nancy -Black’s old residence and settle the question; and with that conclusion -had to content myself until the morrow came.</p> - -<p>Nancy Black was an old friend from my girlhood, who had owned large -property in the town, and lived all alone in a spacious stone house -directly opposite my home, and who, when dying, had left me the sole -legatee of her property.</p> - -<p>When morning came I took the keys, and, with my maid, went over to -Nancy’s house. It had never been disturbed since her death, which was -sudden and somewhat singular, and the furniture remained just as she -left it when taken to her last resting place. We went to the room Nancy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a>{151}</span> -had directed. I bade Sarah take up the carpet, and, sure enough, there -was a plank with a knot-hole in it; so I sent her from the room, and -lifted the plank myself, and there, between the two joints, rested a -long box, the lid not fastened. Opening it, I was horrified to see two -skeletons—those of an infant and of a woman, small in stature and -delicate frame. In a moment it flashed before me that I saw all that -remained of Nancy Black’s young sister, a girl of seventeen, who had -left home somewhat mysteriously years ago, and had died while absent—at -least, that was the version Nancy had given of her absence, and no one -had dreamed of doubting it, her tale was so naturally told.</p> - -<p>Left orphans when Lucy was only two years and Nancy eighteen, she had -devoted her life to the care of this young girl, and when she found her -sister had fallen, she, in her pride of name and position, had destroyed -mother and child, that her shame might not be known, and had lived all -those dreary years in that house with her fearful secret.</p> - -<p>Round the box, heaped up on every side, were money and jewels, and a -parchment scroll among them had written on it: “Lucy’s share of our -father’s estate.” I carried out Nancy’s wishes to the letter, for I now -firmly believed that she had come to me herself that night. To avoid -scandal resting on the dead, I took our clergyman<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>{152}</span> into my confidence, -and with his assistance had the remains buried quietly in consecrated -ground. The money and jewels were given to the poor, and the old -building I turned into a home for destitute females; and morning and -night, as I kneel in prayer, I pray forgiveness to rest upon Nancy Black -and peace to her troubled soul.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>{153}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_FIGHT_WITH_A_GHOST" id="A_FIGHT_WITH_A_GHOST"></a>A FIGHT WITH A GHOST.<br /><br /> -<small>BY Q. E. D.</small></h2> - -<p>“No, I never believed much in ghosts,” said the doctor. “But I was -always rather afraid of them.”</p> - -<p>“Have you ever seen one?” asked one of the other men.</p> - -<p>The doctor took his cigar out of his mouth and contemplated the ash for -a moment or two before replying. “I have had some rather startling -experiences,” he said, after a pause, during which the rest of us -exchanged glances, for the doctor has seen many things and is not averse -to talking about them in congenial company. “Would you care about -hearing one of them? It gives me the cold shivers now to speak of it.” -We nodded, and the doctor, taking a sip as an antidote to the shivers, -began:</p> - -<p>“You remember George Carson, who played for the ‘Varsity some years ago; -big chap, with a light mustache? Well, I saw a good deal of him before -he married, while he was reading for the bar in town. It was just after -he became engaged to Miss Stonor, who is now Mrs. Carson, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>{154}</span> he asked -me to go down to a place which his people had taken in the country. Miss -Stonor was to be there and he wanted me to meet her. I could not go down -for Christmas Day, as I had promised to be with my people. But as I had -been working a bit too hard, and wanted a few days’ rest, I decided to -run down for a few days about the New Year.</p> - -<p>“Woodcote was a pleasant enough place to look at. There were two packs -of hounds within easy distance, and it was not far enough from a station -to cut you off completely from the morning papers. The Carsons had been -lucky, I thought, in coming across such a good house at such a moderate -figure. For, as George told me, the owner had been obliged to go abroad -for his health, and was anxious not to leave the place empty all the -winter. It was an old house, with big gables and preposterous corners -all over the place, and you couldn’t walk ten paces along any of the -passages without tumbling up or down stairs. But it had been patched -from time to time and, among other improvements, a big billiard-room had -been built out at the back. A country house in the winter without a -billiard-room, when the frost stops hunting, is just—well, not even a -gilded prison. The party was a small one; besides George and his father -and mother, there were only a couple of Misses Carson, who, being -somewhere in the early teens, didn’t count,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a>{155}</span> and Miss Stonor, who, of -course, counted a good deal, and, lastly, myself.</p> - -<p>“Miss Stonor ought to have been happy, for George Carson, besides being -an excellent fellow all around, was by no means a bad match, being an -only son with considerable expectations. But, somehow or other, she did -not strike me as looking either very well or very happy. She gave me the -impression of having something on her mind, which made her alternately -nervous and listless. George, I fancied, noticed it, and was puzzled by -it, for I caught him several times watching her with an anxious and -inquiring look, but, as I was not there as a doctor, of course it was no -business of mine, though I discovered the reason before I left Woodcote.</p> - -<p>“The second night after my arrival—we had been playing, I remember, a -family pool; the rest had gone upstairs to bed—George and I adjourned -to a sort of study, which he had arranged upstairs, for a final smoke -and a chat before turning in. The study was next to his bedroom, and -parted off from it by curtains. As we were settling down I missed my -pipe, and remembered that I had laid it down in the billiard-room. On -principle I never smoke another man’s pipe, so I lit a candle, the house -being in darkness, and started away in search of my own. The house -looked awfully weird by the flickering light of a solitary candle, and -the stairs creaked in a particularly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>{156}</span> gruesome way behind me, just for -all the world as though someone were following at my heels. I found my -pipe where I had expected in the billiard-room, and came back in perhaps -a little more hurry than was absolutely necessary. Which, perhaps, -explains why I stumbled in the uncertain light over a couple of -unforeseen stairs, and dropped my candle. Of course it went out, but -after a little groping I found it. Having no matches with me I was -obliged to feel my way along the banisters, for it was so dark that I -could not see my hand in front of me. And as I slowly advanced, sliding -my hand along the broad balustrade at my side, it suddenly slid over -something cold and clammy, which was not balustrade at all; for, -stopping dead, and closing my fingers round it for an instant, I felt -that I was holding another hand, a skinny, bony hand, which writhed -itself slowly from my grasp. And though I could hear nothing and see -nothing, I was yet conscious that something was brushing past me and -going up the stairs.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Hi—what’s that? Who are you?’ I called.</p> - -<p>“There was no answer.</p> - -<p>“I admit that I was in a regular funk. I must have shown it in my face.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>What’s the matter?’ asked George, as I blundered into his study.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Oh, nothing,’ I answered; ‘dropped my candle and lost the way.’<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>{157}</span></p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>But who were you talking to?’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>I was only swearing at the candle,’ I replied.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Oh! I thought perhaps you had seen—somebody,’ replied George.</p> - -<p>“Somehow I did not like to tell him the truth, for fear he would laugh -at my nervousness. But I determined to keep an eye on my liver, and take -a couple of weeks’ complete rest. That night I woke up several times -with the feeling of that confounded hand under my own—a clammy hand -which writhed as my fingers closed upon it.</p> - -<p>“The next morning after breakfast I was in the billiard-room practicing -strokes while Carson was over at the stables. Presently the door opened, -and Miss Stonor looked in.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Come in,’ I said; ‘George will be back from the stables in a few -minutes. Meanwhile we can have fifty up.’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>I wanted to speak to you,’ she said.</p> - -<p>“She was looking very tired and ill, and I began to think I should not -have an uninterrupted holiday after all.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Do you believe in ghosts?’ she asked, having closed the door and come -up to the table, where she stood leaning with both her hands upon it.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>No,’ I replied, missing an easy carrom as I remembered my experience -of last night, ‘but I believe in fancy.’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>And, supposing then that a person fancied he saw things, is there any -remedy?’<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>{158}</span></p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>What do you mean, Miss Stonor?’ I replied, looking at her in some -surprise. ‘Do you mean that you fancy——’</p> - -<p>“I stopped, for Miss Stonor turned away, sat down on one of the -easy-chairs by the wall, and burst into tears.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Oh! please help me’ she sobbed; ‘I believe I am going mad.’</p> - -<p>“I laid down my cue and went over to her.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Look here, Miss Stonor,’ I said, taking her hand, which was hot and -feverish, ‘I am a doctor, and a friend of George. Now tell me all about -it, and I’ll do my best to set it right.’</p> - -<p>“She was in a more or less hysterical condition, and her words were -freely punctuated by sobs. But gradually I managed to elicit from her -that nearly every night since she came to Woodcote she had been awakened -in some mysterious way, and had seen a horrible face looking at her from -over the top of a screen which stood by the door of her bedroom. As soon -as she moved the face disappeared, which convinced her that the -apparition existed only in her imagination. That seemed to distress her -even more than if she had believed it to be a genuine ghost, for she -thought her brain was giving way.</p> - -<p>“I told her that she was only suffering from a very common symptom of -nervous disorder, as indeed it was, and promised to send a groom into -the village to get a prescription made up for her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a>{159}</span> And, having made me -promise to breathe no word to anyone on the subject, more especially to -George, she went away relieved. Nevertheless, I was not quite certain -that I had made a correct diagnosis of the case. You see I had been -rather upset myself not many hours before. George was longer than I -expected at the stable, and I was just going to find him when at the -door I met Mrs. Carson.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Can you spare me one moment?’ she said, as I held open the door for -her. ‘I wanted to find you alone.’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Certainly, Mrs. Carson, with pleasure; an hour, if you wish,’ I -replied.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>It is so convenient, you know, to have a doctor in the house,’ she -said, with a nervous laugh. ‘Now I want you to prescribe me a sleeping -draught. My nerves are rather out of order, and—I don’t sleep as I -should.’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Ah,’ I said, ‘do you see faces—and such like things when you wake?’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>How do you know?’ she asked quickly.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Oh, I inferred from the other symptoms. We doctors have to observe all -kinds of little things.’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Well, of course, I know it is only fancy; but it is just as bad as if -it were real. I assure you it is making me quite ill; and I didn’t like -to mention it to Mr. Carson or to George. They would think I was losing -my head.’</p> - -<p>“I gave Mrs. Carson the same prescription as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>{160}</span> I had written for Miss -Stonor, though by that time the conviction had grown upon me that there -was something wrong which could not be cured by medicine. However, I -decided to say nothing to George about the matter at present. For I -could hardly utilize the confidence which had been placed in me by Miss -Stonor and Mrs. Carson. And my own experience of the night before would -scarcely have appeared convincing to him. But I determined that on the -next day—which was Sunday—I would invent an excuse for staying at home -from church and make some explorations in the house. There was obviously -some mystery at work which wanted clearing up.</p> - -<p>“We all sat up rather late that night. There seemed to be a general -disinclination to go to bed. We stayed all together in the billiard-room -until nearly midnight, and then loitered about in the hall, talking in -an aimless sort of fashion. But at last Mrs. Carson said good-night, -with a confidential nod to me, and Miss Stonor murmured, ‘So many -thanks; I’ve got it,’ and they both went upstairs. George and I parted -in the corridor above. Our rooms were opposite each other.</p> - -<p>“I did not begin undressing at once, but sat down and tried to piece -together some theory to account for the uncanniness of things. But the -more I thought, the more perplexing it became. There was no doubt -whatever that I had put my<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>{161}</span> hand on something extremely alive and -extremely unpleasant the night before. The bare recollection of it made -me shudder. What living thing could possibly be creeping about the house -in the dark? It was a man’s hand. Of that I was certain from the size of -it. George Carson was out of the question, for he was in his room all -the time. Nor was it likely that Mr. Carson, senior, would steal about -his own house in his socks and refuse to answer when spoken to. The only -other man in the house was an eminently respectable-looking butler; and -his hand, as I had noted particularly when he poured out my wine at -dinner, was plump and soft, whereas the mysterious hand on the -balustrade was thin and bony. And then, what was the real explanation of -the face which had appeared to the two ladies? Indigestion might have -explained either singly. Extraordinary coincidences do sometimes occur, -but it seemed too extraordinary that a couple of ladies—one old and one -young—should suffer from the same indigestion in the same house, at the -same time, and with the same symptoms. On the whole, I did not feel at -all comfortable, and looked carefully in all the cupboards and recesses, -as well as under the bed, before starting to undress. Then I went to the -door, intending to lock it. Just as my hand was upon the key, I heard a -soft step in the corridor outside, accompanied by a sound which was -something between<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a>{162}</span> a sigh and a groan. Very faint, but quite -unmistakable, and, under the circumstances, discomposing. It might, of -course, be George. Anyhow, I decided to look and see. I turned the -handle gently and opened the door. There was nothing to be seen in the -corridor. But on the opposite side I could see a door open, and George’s -head peeping round the corner.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Hullo!’ he said.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Hullo!’ I replied.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Was that you walking up the passage?’ he asked.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>No,’ I answered, ‘I thought it might be you.’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Then who the devil was it?’ he said. ‘I’ll swear I heard someone.’</p> - -<p>“There was silence for a few moments. I was wondering whether I had -better tell him of the fright I had already had, when he spoke again:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>I say, just come here for a bit, old fellow; I want to speak to you.’</p> - -<p>“I stepped across the passage, and we went together into the little -study which adjoined his bedroom.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Look here,’ he said, poking up the fire, which was burning low, -‘doesn’t it strike you that there is something very odd about this -house?’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>You mean——’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Well, I wouldn’t say anything about it to the master or Miss Stonor -for fear of frightening them. All the same, scarcely a night passes but<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a>{163}</span> -I hear curious footsteps on the stairs. You’ve heard them yourself, -haven’t you?’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Now you mention it,’ I said, ‘I confess I have.’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>And, what is more,’ he continued, ‘I was sitting here two nights ago -half asleep, and—it seems ridiculous, I know, but it’s a fact—I -suddenly saw a horrible face glaring at me from between those curtains -behind you. It was gone in a moment, but I saw it as plainly as I see -you.’</p> - -<p>“I moved my seat uneasily.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Did you look in your bedroom or in the passage?’ I asked.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Yes—at once,’ he replied. ‘There was nothing to be seen; but twice -again that night I heard footsteps passing—good God!’</p> - -<p>“He started up in his chair, staring straight over my shoulder. I turned -quickly and saw the curtains which parted off the bedroom swing -together.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>What is it?’ I asked, breathlessly.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>I saw it again—the same face—between the curtains.’</p> - -<p>“I tore the hangings aside, and rushed into the next room. It was empty. -The lamp was burning upon a side table, and the door was open, just as -George had left it. In the passage outside all was quiet. I came back -into the study and found George running his fingers through his hair in -perplexity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>{164}</span></p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>There is clearly one person too many in the house,’ I said. ‘I think -we ought to draw the place and find out who it is.’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>All right,’ said he, picking up the poker from the fireplace; ‘if it’s -anything made of flesh and blood this will be useful, and if not——’</p> - -<p>“He stopped short, for at that instant the most awful shriek of horror -rang through the house—a shriek of wild, uncontrollable terror, such as -I had never heard before and I never hope to hear again. One moment we -stood staring at each other, dumbfounded. The next George Carson had -dashed out of the room and down the corridor to the stairs. I followed -close behind him. For we both knew that none but a woman in mortal fear -would shriek like that, and that that woman was Miss Stonor.</p> - -<p>“Down the stairs we tumbled pell-mell in the darkness. But before I -reached the landing below, where Miss Stonor’s room was, I felt, as I -had felt the evening before, something brush swiftly past me. As I ran I -turned and caught at it in the dark. But my hand gripped only empty air. -I was just about to turn back and follow it, when a cry from George -arrested me, and, looking down, I saw him standing over the prostrate -form of Miss Stonor. The door of her room was open, and by the moonlight -which streamed into the room I could see her lying in her white -nightdress across the threshold. What<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>{165}</span> followed in the next few minutes -I can scarcely recall with accuracy. The whole house was aroused by the -poor girl’s awful shriek. She was quite unconscious when we came upon -her, but she revived more or less as soon as Mrs. Carson and one of the -terrified servants had lifted her into bed again. Nothing intelligible -could be gathered from her, however, as to the cause of her fright; she -only repeated, hysterically, again and again:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Oh, the face; the face!’</p> - -<p>“When I saw I could do her no further good for the present, I took -George by the arm and led him out of the room.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Look here, George,’ I said, ‘we must find out the reason of this at -once. I am certain I felt something go by me as I came downstairs. Now -does that staircase lead anywhere but to our rooms?’</p> - -<p>“George considered for a moment.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Yes,’ he replied; ‘there is a door at the end of the passage which -leads up into a sort of lumber room.’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Then we’ll explore it,’ I said. ‘For my part I can’t go to sleep until -I’ve got to the bottom of this. Get the man to bring a lantern along.’</p> - -<p>“The butler looked as though he didn’t half like the enterprise, and, to -tell the truth, no more did I. It was the uncanniest job I ever -undertook. However, we started, the three of us.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>{166}</span> First of all we -searched the rooms on the floor above, where George and I slept. -Everything was just as we had left it. Then I pushed open the door at -the end of the corridor. A crazy-looking staircase led up into darkness. -We went cautiously up, I first with a candle, then George, and last of -all the butler with a lantern. At the top we stepped into a big, rather -low room, with beams across the ceiling, and a rough, uneven floor. Our -lights threw strange shadows into the corners, and more than once I -started at what looked like a crouching human figure. We searched every -corner. There was nothing to be seen but a few old boxes, a roll or two -of matting, and some broken chairs. But in the far corner George pointed -out to me a rickety ladder which ended at a closed trap-door. Just then -I distinctly heard the curious, half groaning, half sighing sound which -had already puzzled me in the corridor below. We stood still and looked -at one another. We all heard the sound.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Whatever it is, it’s up there,’ I said. ‘The question is, who is going -up?’</p> - -<p>“George put his candle down upon the floor and stepped upon the ladder. -It cracked beneath his weight. He stopped.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Come down; it won’t bear you,’ I said. ‘I shall have to go.’</p> - -<p>“I don’t know that I was ever in such a queer funk as I was while I -slowly mounted that ladder,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>{167}</span> and pushed open the trap-door. I had formed -no clear idea of what I expected to find there. Certainly I was not -prepared for what happened. For no sooner was the trap-door fully open -than there fell—literally fell—upon me from the darkness above a thing -in human shape, which kicked and spat and tore at me as I stood clinging -to the ladder. It lasted but a moment or so, but in that moment I lived -a lifetime of terror. The ladder swayed and cracked beneath me, and I -fell to the floor with the thing gripping my throat like a vise. The -next instant George had stunned it with a blow from the poker and -dragged it off me. It lay upon its back on the floor—a ragged, hideous, -loathsome shape. And the mystery was solved.”</p> - -<p>“But you haven’t told us what it really was,” said one of the listeners.</p> - -<p>The doctor smiled.</p> - -<p>“It was the owner of the house,” he replied. “He had not gone abroad. He -had gone to a private lunatic asylum with homicidal mania upon him. -About a fortnight before this he had managed to escape; and, having made -his way to his former home, had concealed himself, with a cunning often -shown by lunatics, in the loft. I suppose he had found enough to eat in -his nightly rambles about the house. The only wonder is that he didn’t -kill someone before he was caught.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a>{168}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="COLONEL_HALIFAXS_GHOST_STORY" id="COLONEL_HALIFAXS_GHOST_STORY"></a>COLONEL HALIFAX’S GHOST STORY.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">I had</span> just come back to England, after having been some years in India, -and was looking forward to meet my friends, among whom there was none I -was more anxious to see than Sir Francis Lynton. We had been to Eton -together, and for the short time I had been at Oxford, before entering -the army, we had been at the same college. Then we had parted. He came -into the title and estates of the family in Yorkshire on the death of -his grandfather—his father had predeceased—and I had been over a good -part of the world. One visit, indeed, I had made him in his Yorkshire -home, before leaving for India, of but a few days.</p> - -<p>It will be easily imagined how pleasant it was, two or three days after -my arrival in London, to receive a letter from Lynton, saying that he -had just seen in the papers that I had arrived, and, begging me to come -down at once to Byfield, his place in Yorkshire.</p> - -<p>“You are not to tell me,” he said, “that you cannot come. In fact, you -are to come on Monday. I have a couple of horses which will just suit -you; the carriage shall meet you at Packham, and all you have got to do -is to put yourself<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>{169}</span> in the train which leaves Kings Cross at twelve -o’clock.”</p> - -<p>Accordingly, on the day appointed, I started, in due time reached -Packham, losing much time on a detestable branch line, and there found -the dog-cart of Sir Francis awaiting me. I drove at once to Byfield.</p> - -<p>The house I remembered. It was a low gable structure of no great size, -with old-fashioned lattice windows, separated from the park, where were -deer, by a charming terraced garden.</p> - -<p>No sooner did the wheels crunch the gravel by the principal entrance, -than, almost before the bell was rung, the porch-door opened, and there -stood Lynton himself, whom I had not seen for so many years, hardly -altered, and with all the joy of welcome beaming in his face. Taking me -by both hands, he drew me into the house, got rid of my hat and wraps, -looked me all over, and then, in a breath, began to say how glad he was -to see me, what a real delight it was to have got me at last under his -roof, and what a good time we would have together, like the old days -over again.</p> - -<p>He had sent my luggage up to my room, which was ready for me, and he -bade me make haste and dress for dinner.</p> - -<p>So saying he took me through a paneled hall, up an old oak staircase, -and showed me my room, which, hurried as I was, I observed was hung<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a>{170}</span> -with tapestry, and had a large four-post bed, with velvet curtains, -opposite the window.</p> - -<p>They had gone in to dinner when I came down, despite all the haste I -made in dressing; but a place had been kept for me next Lady Lynton.</p> - -<p>Besides my hosts, there were their two daughters, Colonel Lynton, a -brother of Sir Francis, the chaplain, and some others, whom I do not -remember distinctly.</p> - -<p>After dinner there was some music in the hall, and a game of whist in -the drawing-room, and after the ladies had gone upstairs, Lynton and I -retired to the smoking-room, where we sat up talking the better part of -the night. I think it must have been near three when I retired. Once in -bed I slept so soundly that my servant’s entrance the next morning -failed to arouse me, and it was past nine when I awoke.</p> - -<p>After breakfast and the disposal of the newspapers, Lynton retired to -his letters, and I asked Lady Lynton if one of her daughters might show -me the house. Elizabeth, the eldest, was summoned, and seemed in no way -to dislike the task.</p> - -<p>The house was, as already intimated, by no means large; it occupied -three sides of a square, the entrance and one end of the stables making -the fourth side. The interior was full of interest—passages, rooms, -galleries, as well as hall, were paneled in dark wood and hung with -pictures. I was shown everything on the ground<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a>{171}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/p171.jpg" width="397" height="500" alt="Image unavailable: “Losing much time on a detestable branch line.”" title="" /> -<br /> -<span class="caption">“Losing much time on a detestable branch line.”</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a>{172}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">floor, and then on the first floor. Then my guide proposed that we -should ascend a narrow, twisting staircase that led to a gallery. We did -as proposed, and entered a handsome long room or passage leading to a -small chamber at one end, in which my guide told me her father kept -books and papers.</p> - -<p>I asked if anyone slept in this gallery, as I noticed a bed and -fireplace, and rods by means of which curtains might be drawn, enclosing -one portion where were bed and fireplace, so as to convert it into a -very cosy chamber.</p> - -<p>She answered “No;” the place was not really used, except as a playroom; -though, sometimes, if the house happened to be very full—in her -great-grandfather’s time—she had heard that it had been occupied.</p> - -<p>By the time we had been over the house, and I had also been shown the -garden and the stables, and introduced to the dogs, it was nearly one -o’clock. We were to have an early luncheon, and to drive afterwards to -see the ruins of one of the grand old Yorkshire abbeys.</p> - -<p>This was a pleasant expedition, and we got back just in time for tea, -after which there was some reading aloud. The evening passed much in the -same way as the preceding one, except that Lynton, who had some -business, did not go down into the smoking-room, and I took the -opportunity of retiring early in order to write a letter for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>{173}</span> the Indian -mail, something having been said as to the prospect of hunting the next -day.</p> - -<p>I had finished my letter, which was a long one, together with two or -three others, and had just got into bed, when I heard a step overhead, -as of someone walking along the gallery, which I now knew ran -immediately above my room. It was a slow, heavy, measured tread which I -could hear getting gradually louder and nearer, and then as gradually -fading away, as it retreated into the distance.</p> - -<p>I was startled for a moment, having been told that the gallery was -unused; but the next instant it occurred to me that I had been told it -communicated with a chamber where Sir Francis kept books and papers. I -knew he had some writing to do, and I thought no more on the matter.</p> - -<p>I was down the next morning at breakfast in good time. “How late you -were last night,” I said to Lynton, in the middle of breakfast. “I heard -you overhead after one o’clock.”</p> - -<p>Lynton replied rather shortly: “Indeed you did not, for I was in bed -last night before twelve.”</p> - -<p>“There was someone certainly moving overhead last night,” I answered, -“for I heard his steps as distinctly as I ever heard anything in my life -going down the gallery.”</p> - -<p>Upon which Colonel Lynton remarked that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a>{174}</span> had often fancied he had -heard steps on the staircase, when he knew that no one was about. He was -apparently disposed to say more, when his brother interrupted him -somewhat curtly, as I fancied, and asked me if I should feel inclined -after breakfast to have a horse and go out and look for the hounds. They -met a considerable way off, but if they did not find in the coverts they -would first draw, a thing not improbable, they would come our way, and -we might fall in with them about one o’clock and have a run. I said -there was nothing I should like better. Lynton mounted me on a very nice -chestnut, and the rest of the party having gone out shooting, and the -young ladies being otherwise engaged, he and I started about eleven -o’clock for our ride.</p> - -<p>It was a beautiful day, soft, with a bright sun, one of those beautiful -days which so frequently occur in the early part of November.</p> - -<p>On reaching the hilltop where Lynton had expected to meet the hounds, no -trace of them was to be discovered. They must have found at once, and -run in a different direction. At three o’clock, after we had eaten our -sandwiches, Lynton reluctantly abandoned all hopes of falling in with -the hounds, and said we would return home by a slightly different route.</p> - -<p>We had not descended the hill before we came on an old chalk quarry and -the remains of a disused kiln.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a>{175}</span></p> - -<p>I recollected the spot at once. I had been here with Sir Francis on my -former visit, many years ago. “Why, bless me!” said I; “do you remember, -Lynton, what happened here when I was with you before? There had been -men engaged removing chalk, and they came on a skeleton under some depth -of rubble. We went together to see it removed, and you said you would -have it preserved till it could be examined by some ethnologist or -anthropologist, any one of those dry-as-dusts, to decide whether the -remains were dolichocephalous or brachycephalous—whether British, -Danish, or—modern. What was the result?”</p> - -<p>Sir Francis hesitated a moment, and then answered, “It is true, I had -the remains removed.”</p> - -<p>“Was there an inquest?”</p> - -<p>“No. I had been opening some of the tumuli on the Wolds. I had sent a -crouched skeleton and some skulls to the Scarsborough museum. This, I -was doubtful about—whether it was a prehistoric interment—in fact, to -what date it belonged. No one thought of an inquest.”</p> - -<p>On reaching the house, one of the grooms who took the horses, in answer -to a question from Lynton, said that Colonel and Mrs. Hampshire had -arrived about an hour ago, and that, one of the horses being lame, the -carriage in which they had driven over from Castle Frampton was to put -up for the night. In the drawing-room we<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a>{176}</span> found Lady Lynton pouring out -tea for her husband’s sister and her husband, who, as we came in, -exclaimed: “We have come to beg a night’s lodging.”</p> - -<p>It appeared that they had been on a visit in the neighborhood, and had -been obliged to leave at a moment’s notice in consequence of a sudden -death in the house where they were staying, and that, in the -impossibility of getting a fly, their hosts had sent them over to -Byfield.</p> - -<p>“We thought,” Mrs. Hampshire went on to say, “that as we were coming -here the end of next week, you would not mind having us a little sooner; -or that, if the house were quite full, you would be willing to put us up -anywhere till Monday, and let us come back later.”</p> - -<p>Lady Lynton interposed with the remark that it was all settled; and -then, turning to her husband, added: “But I want to speak to you for a -moment.”</p> - -<p>They both left the room together.</p> - -<p>Lynton came back almost immediately, and, making an excuse to show me, -on a map in the hall, the point to which we had ridden, said, as soon as -we were alone, with a look of considerable annoyance: “I am afraid we -must ask you to change your room. Shall you mind very much? I think we -can make you quite comfortable upstairs in the gallery, which is the -only room available. Lady Lynton has had a good<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a>{177}</span> fire lit; the place is -really not cold, and it will be only for a night or two. Your servant -has been told to put your things together, but Lady Lynton did not like -to give orders to have them actually moved before my speaking to you.”</p> - -<p>I assured him that I did not mind in the very least; that I should be -quite as comfortable upstairs; but that I did mind very much their -making such a fuss about a matter of that sort with an old friend like -myself.</p> - -<p>Certainly nothing could look more comfortable than my new lodging when I -went upstairs to dress. There was a bright fire in the large grate, an -arm-chair had been drawn up beside it, and all my books and writing -things had been put in, with a reading-lamp in the central position, and -the heavy tapestry curtains were drawn, converting this part of the -gallery into a room to itself. Indeed, I felt somewhat inclined to -congratulate myself on the change. The spiral staircase had been one -reason against this place having been given to the Hampshires. No lady’s -long dress trunk could have mounted it.</p> - -<p>Sir Francis was necessarily a good deal occupied in the evening with his -sister and her husband, whom he had not seen for some time. Colonel -Hampshire had also just heard that he was likely to be ordered to Egypt, -and when Lynton and he retired to the smoking-room, instead of going -there I went upstairs to my own room to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a>{178}</span> finish a book in which I was -interested. I did not, however, sit up long, and very soon went to bed.</p> - -<p>Before doing so, I drew back the curtains on the rods, partly because I -like plenty of air where I sleep, and partly also because I thought I -might like to see the play of the moonlight on the floor in the portion -of the gallery beyond where I lay, and where the blinds had not been -drawn.</p> - -<p>I must have been asleep for some time, for the fire, which I had left in -full blaze, was gone to a few sparks wandering among the ashes, when I -suddenly awoke with the impression of having heard a latch click at the -further extremity of the gallery, where was the chamber containing books -and papers.</p> - -<p>I had always been a light sleeper, but on the present occasion I woke at -once to complete and acute consciousness, and with a sense of stretched -attention which seemed to intensify all my faculties. The wind had -risen, and was blowing in fitful gusts round the house.</p> - -<p>A minute or two passed, and I began almost to fancy I must have been -mistaken, when I distinctly heard the creak of the door, and then the -click of the latch falling back into place. Then I heard a sound on the -boards as of one moving in the gallery. I sat up to listen, and as I did -so I distinctly heard steps coming down the gallery.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a>{179}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/p179.jpg" width="350" height="500" alt="Image unavailable: “Who are you?”" title="" /> -<br /> -<span class="caption">“Who are you?”</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a>{180}</span></p> - -<p>I heard them approach and pass my bed; I could see nothing, all was -dark; but I heard the tread proceeding toward where were the uncurtained -and unshuttered windows, two in number; but the moon shone through only -one of these, the nearest—the other was dark, shadowed by the chapel or -some other building at right angles. The tread seemed to me to pause now -and again, and then continue as before.</p> - -<p>I now fixed my eyes intently on the one illumined window, and it -appeared to me as if some dark body passed across it; but what? I -listened intently, and heard the step proceed to the end of the gallery, -and then return.</p> - -<p>I again watched the lighted window, and immediately that the sound -reached that portion of the long passage it ceased momentarily, and I -saw, as distinctly as I ever saw anything in my life, by moonlight, a -figure of a man with marked features, in what appeared to be a fur cap -drawn over the brows.</p> - -<p>It stood in the embrasure of the window, and the outline of the face was -in silhouette; then it moved on, and as it moved I again heard the -tread.</p> - -<p>I was as certain as I could be that the thing, whatever it was, or the -person, whoever he was, was approaching my bed.</p> - -<p>I threw myself back in the bed, and as I did see a mass of charred wood -on the hearth fell down<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a>{181}</span> and sent up a flash of—I fancy sparks, that -gave out a glare into the darkness, and by that—red as blood—I saw a -face near me.</p> - -<p>With a cry, over which I had as little control as the scream uttered by -a sleeper in the agony of a nightmare, I called, “Who are you?”</p> - -<p>There was an instant during which my hair bristled on my head, as in the -horror of the darkness I prepared to grapple with the being at my side; -when a board creaked as if someone had moved, and I heard the footsteps -retreat, and again the click of the latch.</p> - -<p>The next instant there was a rush on the stairs and Lynton burst into -the room, just as he had sprung out of bed, crying: “For God’s sake, -what is the matter? Are you ill?”</p> - -<p>I could not answer. Lynton struck a light and leaned over the bed. Then -I seized him by the arm, and said, without moving: “There has been -something in this room—gone in thither.”</p> - -<p>The words were hardly out of my mouth when Lynton, following the -direction of my eyes, had sprung to the end of the corridor and thrown -open the door there.</p> - -<p>He went into the room beyond, looked round it, returned, and said: “You -must have been dreaming.”</p> - -<p>By this time I was out of bed.</p> - -<p>“Look for yourself,” said he, and he led me into the little room. It was -bare, with cupboards<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a>{182}</span> and boxes, a sort of lumber place. “There is -nothing beyond this,” said he, “no door, no staircase. It is a blind -way.” Then he added: “Now pull on your dressing-gown and come downstairs -to my sanctum.”</p> - -<p>I followed him, and after he had spoken to Lady Lynton, who was standing -with the door of her room ajar in a state of great agitation, he turned -to me, and said: “No one can have been in your room. You see, my and my -wife’s apartments are close below, and no one could come up the spiral -staircase without passing my door. You must have had a nightmare. -Directly you screamed I rushed up the steps, and met no one descending; -and there is no place of concealment in the lumber-room at the end of -the gallery.”</p> - -<p>Then he took me into his private snuggery, blew up the fire, lighted a -lamp, and said: “I shall be really grateful if you will say nothing -about this. There are some in the house and neighborhood who are silly -enough as it is. You stay here, and if you do not feel inclined to go to -bed, read—here are books. I must go to Lady Lynton, who is a good deal -frightened, and does not like to be left alone.”</p> - -<p>He then went to his bedroom.</p> - -<p>Sleep, as far as I was concerned, was out of the question, nor do I -think Sir Francis and his wife slept much, either.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a>{183}</span></p> - -<p>I made up the fire, and after a time took up a book, and tried to read, -but it was useless.</p> - -<p>I sat absorbed in thoughts and questionings till I heard the servants -stirring in the morning. I went to my own room, left the candle burning, -and got into bed. I had just fallen asleep when my servant brought me a -cup of tea at eight o’clock.</p> - -<p>At breakfast Colonel Hampshire and his wife asked if anything had -happened in the night, as they had been much disturbed by noises -overhead, to which Lynton replied that I had not been very well, and had -an attack of cramp, and that he had been upstairs to look after me. From -his manner I could see that he wished me to be silent, and I said -nothing accordingly.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon, when everyone had gone out, Sir Francis took me into -his snuggery, and said: “Halifax, I am very sorry about that matter last -night. It is quite true, what my brother said, that steps have been -heard about this house, but I never gave heed to such things, putting -all noises down to rats. But after your experiences I feel that it is -due to you to tell you something, and also to make to you an -explanation. There is—there was—no one in the room at the end of the -corridor, except the skeleton that was discovered in the chalk-pit when -you were here many years ago. I confess I had not paid much heed to it. -My archæological fancies passed; I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a>{184}</span> no visits from anthropologists; -the bones and skull were never shown to experts, but remain packed in a -chest in that lumber-room. I confess I ought to have buried them, having -no more scientific use for them, but I did not—on my word, I forgot all -about them, or, at least, gave no heed to them. However, what you have -gone through, and have described to me, has made me uneasy, and has also -given me a suspicion that I can account for that body in a manner that -had never occurred to me before.”</p> - -<p>After a pause, he added: “What I am going to tell you is known to no one -else, and must not be mentioned by you—anyhow, in my lifetime. You know -now that, owing to the death of my father when quite young, I and my -brother and sister were brought up here with our grandfather, Sir -Richard. He was an old, imperious, hot-tempered man. I will tell you -what I have made out of a matter that was a mystery for long, and I will -tell you afterwards how I came to unravel it. My grandfather was in the -habit of going out at night with a young under-keeper, of whom he was -very fond, to look after the game and see if any poachers, whom he -regarded as his natural enemies, were about.</p> - -<p>“One night, as I suppose, my grandfather had been out with the young man -in question, and, returning by the plantations, where the hill is -steepest, and not far from the chalk-pit you<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a>{185}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/p184.jpg" width="380" height="500" alt="Image unavailable: “He and the keeper buried the body.”" title="" /> -<br /> -<span class="caption">“He and the keeper buried the body.”</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a>{186}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">remarked on yesterday, they came upon a man who, though not actually -belonging to the country, was well known in it as a sort of traveling -tinker of indifferent character and a notorious poacher. Mind this, I am -not sure it was at the place I mention; I only now surmise it. On the -particular night in question, my grandfather and the keeper must have -caught this man setting snares; there must have been a tussle, in the -course of which, as subsequent circumstances have led me to imagine, the -man showed fight, and was knocked down by one or the other of the -two—my grandfather or the keeper. I believe that after having made -various attempts to restore him, they found that the man was actually -dead.</p> - -<p>“They were both in great alarm and concern—my grandfather especially. -He had been prominent in putting down some factory riots, and had given -orders to the military to fire, whereby several lives had been lost. -There was a vast outcry against him, and a certain political party had -denounced him as an assassin. No man was more vituperated; yet now, in -my conscience, I believe he acted with both discretion and pluck, and -arrested a mischievous movement that might have led to much bloodshed. -Be that as it may, my impression is that he lost his head over this -fatal affair with the tinker, and that he and the keeper together buried -the body secretly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a>{187}</span> not far from the place where he was killed. I now -think it was in the chalk-pit, and that the skeleton found years after -there belonged to this man.”</p> - -<p>“Good heavens!” I exclaimed, as at once my mind rushed back to the -figure with the fur cap that I had seen against the window.</p> - -<p>Sir Francis went on: “The sudden disappearance of the tramp, in view of -his well-known habits and wandering mode of life, did not for some time -excite surprise; but, later on, one or two circumstances having led to -suspicion, an inquiry was set on foot, and among others, my -grandfather’s keepers were examined before the magistrates. It was -remembered afterwards that the under-keeper in question was absent at -the time of the inquiry, my grandfather having sent him with some dogs -to a brother-in-law of his who lived upon the moors; but whether anyone -noticed the fact, or if they did, preferred to be silent, no -observations were made. Nothing came of the investigation, and the whole -subject would have been dropped if it had not been that two years later, -for some reasons I do not understand, but at the instigation of a -magistrate recently imported into the division, whom my grandfather -greatly disliked, and who was opposed to him in politics, a fresh -inquiry was instituted. In the course of that inquiry it transpired -that, owing to some unguarded words<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a>{188}</span> dropped by the under-keeper, a -warrant was about to be issued for his arrest. My grandfather, who had a -fit of the gout, was away from home at the time, but on hearing the news -he came home at once. The evening he returned he had a long interview -with the young man, who left the house after he had supped in the -servants’ hall. It was observed that he looked much depressed. The -warrant was issued the next day, but in the meantime the keeper had -disappeared. My grandfather gave orders to his people to do everything -in their power to assist the authorities in the search that was at once -set on foot, but was unable himself to take any share in it.</p> - -<p>“No trace of the keeper was found, although at a subsequent period -rumors circulated that he had been heard of in America. But the man -having been unmarried, he gradually dropped out of remembrance, and as -my grandfather never allowed the subject to be mentioned in his -presence, I should probably never have known anything about it but for -the vague tradition which always attaches to such events, and for this -fact, that after my grandfather’s death, a letter came addressed to him -from somewhere in the United States from some one—the name different -from that of the keeper—but alluding to the past, and implying the -presence of a common secret, and, of course, with it came a request for -money. I replied, mentioning the death of Sir Richard, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a>{189}</span> asking for -an explanation. I did get an answer, and it is from that that I am able -to fill in so much of the story. But I never learned where the man had -been killed and buried, and my next letter to the fellow was returned -with ‘deceased’ written across it. Somehow, it never occurred to me till -I heard your story that possibly the skeleton in the chalk-pit might be -that of the poaching tinker. I will now most assuredly have it buried in -the churchyard.”</p> - -<p>“That certainly ought to be done,” said I.</p> - -<p>“And,” said Sir Francis, after a pause, “I give you my word—after the -burial of the bones, and you are gone, I will sleep for a week in the -bed in the gallery, and report to you if I see or hear anything. If all -be quiet, then—well, you form your own conclusions.”</p> - -<p>I left a day after. Before long I got a letter from my friend, brief, -but to the point: “All quiet, old boy; come again.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a>{190}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_GHOST_OF_THE_COUNT" id="THE_GHOST_OF_THE_COUNT"></a>THE GHOST OF THE COUNT.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Not</span> far from the Alameda, in the City of Mexico, there is a great old -stone building, in which once lived a very wealthy and wicked Spanish -count. The house has about four floors, and ninety rooms, more or less. -The entire fourth floor is rented and occupied by a big American firm, -and their bookkeeper, an American girl, has given us the following true -account of the ghost that for years haunted the building. The second -floor is unoccupied, as no one cares to live there for obvious reasons. -And the bottom floor is also unoccupied, save for lumber rooms, empty -boxes and crates and barrels. And last of all is the great patio with -its tiled floor, where secretly in the night a duel was fought to the -death by the wicked count and a famous Austrian prince, who was one of -Maximilian’s men. The count was killed.</p> - -<p>No one knows why the duel was fought; some say it was because of a -beautiful Spanish woman; some say that it was because of treasure that -the two jointly “conveyed,” and which the count refused to divide with -his princely “socio,” and more people—Mexicans—shrug their shoulders -if you ask about it, and say, “Quien sabe?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a>{191}</span></p> - -<p>“I saw a ghost here last night, Miss James,” announces our cashier with -much eclat and evident pride.</p> - -<p>So great is the shock that I gasp, and my pen drops, spattering red ink -on my nice fresh cuffs, and (worse luck!) on the ledger page that I had -just totted up. It is ruined, and I will have to erase it, -or—something! Wretched man!</p> - -<p>“I wish to goodness it had taken you off,” I cry, wrathfully, as I look -at the bespattered work. “Now will you just look here and see what you -have done? I wish you and your ghosts were in——”</p> - -<p>“Gehenna?” he inquires, sweetly; “I’ll fix that—it won’t take half a -minute. And don’t look so stern, else I won’t tell you about the -‘espanto.’ And you will be sorry if you don’t hear about it—it would -make such a good story.” (Insinuatingly.)</p> - -<p>“Then go ahead with it.” (Ungraciously.)</p> - -<p>“Well, last night I was waiting for West. He was to meet me here, after -which it was our intention to hit the—that is, I mean we were going out -together. (I nod scornfully.) And it seems that while I was patiently -waiting here, in my usual sweet-tempered way, the blank idiot had his -supper and then lay down to rest himself for a while. You know how -delicate he is? (Another contemptuous nod.) Unfortunately he forgot the -engagement, and slept on. He says he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a>{192}</span> never awoke until three o’clock, -and so didn’t come, thinking I wouldn’t be there. Meantime I also went -to sleep, and might have snoozed on until three, likewise, but for the -fact that the ghost woke me——”</p> - -<p>“Well? Do go on,” I urge.</p> - -<p>“The ghost woke me, as I said,” proceeds the simpleton, slowly. “It was -passing its cold fingers over my face and groaning. Really, it was most -extraordinary. At first I didn’t know what it was; then, as I felt the -icy fingers stroking my face and heard blood-curdling groans issuing -from the darkness, I knew what it was. And I remembered the story of the -prince and his little duel down in the patio, and knew it was the ghost -of the prince’s victim. By the way, you don’t know what a funny -sensation it is to have a ghost pat your face, Miss James——”</p> - -<p>“Pat nothing,” I retort, indignantly. “I wonder you are not ashamed to -tell me such fibs. Such a ta-ra-diddle! And as for the man that the -prince killed downstairs, you know as well as I do that he was taken -home to Spain and buried there. Why, then, should he come back here, -into our offices, and pat your face?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, that I can’t say,” with a supercilious drawl. “I can only account -for it by thinking that the ghost has good taste—better than that of -some people I know,” meaningly. “But honestly, I swear that I am telling -you the truth—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a>{193}</span>cross my heart and hope to die if I am not! And you -don’t know how brave I was—I never screamed; in fact, I never made a -sound; oh, I was brave!”</p> - -<p>“Then what did you do?” sternly.</p> - -<p>“I ran. Por Dios, how I ran! You remember with what alacrity we got down -the stairs during the November earthquake? (I remember only too -distinctly.) Well, last night’s run wasn’t a run, in comparison—it was -a disappearance, a flight, a sprint! I went down the four flights of -stairs like a streak of blue lightning, and the ghost flew with me. I -heard the pattering of its steps and its groans clean down to the patio -door, and I assure you I quite thought I had made such an impression -that it was actually going on home with me. And the thought made me feel -so weak that I felt perforce obliged to take a—have a—that is, -strengthen myself with a cocktail. After which I felt stronger and went -home quite peacefully. But it was an uncanny experience, wasn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Was it before or after taking that cocktail?” I ask, incredulously. -“And did you take one only or eleven?”</p> - -<p>I am hard on the man, but he really deserves it. Ghosts! Spirits, -perhaps, but not ghosts. Whereat his feelings are quite “hurted”—so -much so that he vows he will never tell me anything again; I had better -read about Doubting<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a>{194}</span> Thomas; he never has seen such an unbelieving woman -in all his life, and if I were only a man he would be tempted to pray -that I might see the ghost; it would serve me right. Then, wrathfully -departs, to notice me no more that day.</p> - -<p>Not believing the least bit in ghosts I gave the matter no more thought. -In fact, when you fall heir to a set of books that haven’t been posted -for nineteen days, and you have to do it all, and get up your trial -balance, too, or else give up your Christmas holidays, you haven’t much -time to think about ghosts, or anything else, except entries. And though -I had been working fourteen hours per day, the 24th of December, noon -hour, found me with a difference of $13.89. The which I, of course, must -locate and straighten out before departing next morning on my week’s -holiday. Por supuesto, it meant night work. Nothing else would do; and -besides, our plans had all been made to leave on the eight o’clock train -next morning. So I would just sit up all night, if need be, and find the -wretched balance and be done with it.</p> - -<p>Behold me settled for work that night at seven o’clock in my own office, -with three lamps burning to keep it from looking dismal and lonely, and -books and ledgers and journals piled up two feet high around me. If hard -work would locate that nasty, hateful $13.89 it would surely be found. I -had told the portero downstairs on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a>{195}</span> ground floor to try and keep -awake for a time, but if I didn’t soon finish the work I would come down -and call him when I was ready to go home.</p> - -<p>He lived in a little room, all shut off from the rest of the building, -so that it was rather difficult to get at him. Besides, he was the very -laziest and sleepiest peon possible, and though he was supposed to take -care of the big building at night, patrolling it so as to keep off -ladrones, he in reality slept so soundly that the last trumpet, much -less Mexican robbers, would not have roused him.</p> - -<p>And for this very reason, before settling to my work I was careful to go -around and look to locks and bolts myself; everything was secure, and -the doors safely fastened. So that if ladrones did break through they -would have to be in shape to pass through keyholes or possess false -keys.</p> - -<p>With never a thought of spirits or porteros, or anything else, beyond -the thirteen dollars and eighty-nine cents, I worked and added and -re-added and footed up. And at eleven o’clock, grazia a Dios, I had the -thirteen dollars all safe, and would have whooped for joy, had I the -time. However, I wasn’t out of the woods yet, the sum of eighty-nine -dollars being often more easy of location than eighty-nine cents. The -latter must be found, also, before I could have the pleasure of shouting -in celebration thereof.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a>{196}</span></p> - -<p>At it I went again. After brain cudgeling and more adding and prayerful -thought I at last had under my thumb that abominable eighty cents. -Eureka! Only nine cents out. I could get it all straight and have some -sleep, after all! Inspired by which thought I smothered my yawns and -again began to add. I looked at my watch—ten minutes to twelve. Perhaps -I could get it fixed before one.</p> - -<p>I suppose I had worked at the nine cents for about twenty minutes. One -of the cash entries looked to me to be in error. I compared it with the -voucher—yes, that was just where the trouble lay! Eleven -cents—ten—nine——</p> - -<p>S-t-t! Out went the lights in the twinkling of an eye—as I sat, gaping -in my astonishment, from out of the pitchy darkness of the room came the -most dreary, horrible, blood-curdling groan imaginable. As I sat -paralyzed, not daring to breathe, doubting my senses for a moment, and -then thinking indignantly that it was some trick of that wretched -cashier, I felt long, thin, icy fingers passing gently over my face. -Malgame Dios! what a sensation! At first I was afraid to move. Then I -nervously tried to brush the icy, bony things away. As fast as I -brushed, with my heart beating like a steam-hammer, and gasping with -deadly fear, the fingers would come back again; a cold wind was blowing -over me. Again came that dreadful groan, and too frightened to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a>{197}</span> move or -scream, I tumbled in a heap on the floor, among the books and ledgers. -Then I suppose I fainted.</p> - -<p>When I regained my senses I was still in a heap with the ledgers; still -it was dark and still I felt the cold fingers caressing my face. At -which I became thoroughly desperate. No ghost should own me! I had -laughed at the poor cashier and hinted darkly at cocktails. Pray, what -better was I?</p> - -<p>I scrambled to my feet, the fingers still stroking my face. I must -address them—what language—did they understand English or Spanish, I -wondered? Spanish would doubtless be most suitable, if indeed, it was -the ghost of the murdered count——.</p> - -<p>“Will you do me the favor, Senor Ghost,” I started out bravely, in my -best Spanish, but with a very trembling voice, “to inform me what it is -that you desire? Is there anything I can do for you? Because, if not, I -would like very much to be allowed to finish my work, which I cannot do -(if you will pardon my abruptness) if I am not alone.”</p> - -<p>(Being the ghost of a gentleman and a diplomat, surely he would take the -hint and vanish. Ojala!)</p> - -<p>Perhaps the ghost did not understand my Spanish; at any rate there was -no articulate reply; there was another groan—again the fingers<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a>{198}</span> touched -me, and then there was such a mournful sigh that I felt sorry for the -poor thing—what could be the matter with it? With my pity, all fear was -lost for a moment, and I said to the darkness all about me:</p> - -<p>“What is it that you wish, pobre senor? Can I not aid you? I am not -afraid—let me help you!”</p> - -<p>The fingers moved uncertainly for a moment; then the ledgers all fell -down, with a loud bang; a cold hand caught mine, very gently—I tried -not to feel frightened, but it was difficult—and I was led off blindly, -through the offices. I could not see a thing—not a glimmer of light -showed; not a sound was heard except my own footsteps, and the faint -sound of the invisible something that was leading me along—there were -no more groans, thank goodness, else I should have shrieked and fainted, -without a doubt. Only the pattering footsteps and the cold hand that led -me on and on.</p> - -<p>We—the fingers and I—were somehow in the great hall, then on the -second floor, and at last on the stairs, going on down, flight after -flight. Then I knew that I was being led about by the fingers on the -tiled floor of the patio, and close to the portero’s lodge. Simpleton -that he was! Sleeping like a log, no doubt, while I was being led about -in the black darkness by an invisible hand, and no one to save me! I -would have yelled, of course, but for one fact—I found it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a>{199}</span> utterly -impossible to speak or move my tongue, being a rare and uncomfortable -sensation.</p> - -<p>But where were we going? Back into the unused lumber rooms, joining onto -the patio? Nothing there, except barrels and slabs and empty boxes. What -could the ghost mean? He must be utterly demented, surely.</p> - -<p>In the middle of the first room we paused. I had an idea of rushing out -and screaming for the portero, but abandoned it when I found that my -feet wouldn’t go. I heard steps passing to and fro about the floor, and -waited, cold and trembling. They approached me; again my hand was taken, -and I was led over near the corner of the room. Obedient to the unseen -will, I bent down and groped about the floor, guided by the cold fingers -holding mine, until I felt something like a tiny ring, set firmly in the -floor. I pulled at it faintly, but it did not move, at which the ghost -gave a faint sigh. For a second the cold fingers pressed mine, quite -affectionately, then released me, and I heard steps passing slowly into -the patio, then dying away. Where was it going, and what on earth did it -all mean?</p> - -<p>But I was so tired and wrought up I tried to find the door, but couldn’t -(the cashier would have been revenged could he have seen me stupidly -fumbling at a barrel, thinking it was the door), and at last, too -fatigued and sleepy to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a>{200}</span> stand, I dropped down on the cold stone floor -and went to sleep.</p> - -<p>I must have slept for some hours, for when I awoke the light of dawn was -coming in at the window, and I sat up and wondered if I had taken leave -of my senses during the night. What on earth could I be doing here in -the lumber-room? Then, like a flash, I remembered, and, half -unconsciously, crept about on the floor seeking the small ring. There it -was! I caught it and jerked at it hard. Hey, presto, change! For it -seemed to me that the entire floor was giving way. There was a sliding, -crashing sound, and I found myself hanging on for dear life to a barrel -that, fortunately, retained its equilibrium, and with my feet dangling -into space. Down below me was a small, stone-floored room, with big -boxes and small ones ranged about the walls. Treasure! Like a flash the -thought struck me, and with one leap I was down in the secret room -gazing about at the boxes.</p> - -<p>But, alas! upon investigation, the biggest chests proved empty. The bad, -wicked count! No wonder he couldn’t rest in his Spanish grave, but must -come back to the scene of his wickedness and deceit to make reparation! -But the smaller chests were literally crammed with all sorts of -things—big heavy Spanish coins, in gold and silver—gold and silver -dinner services, with the crest of the unfortunate emperor; magnificent<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a>{201}</span> -pieces of jeweled armor and weapons, beautiful jewelry and loose -precious stones. I deliberately selected handfuls of the latter, giving -my preference to the diamonds and pearls—I had always had a taste for -them, which I had never before been able to gratify!—and packed them in -a wooden box that I found in the lumber-room. The gold and dinner -services and armor, etc., I left as they were, being rather cumbersome, -and carried off, rejoicing, my big box of diamonds and pearls and other -jewelry.</p> - -<p>Needless to say we didn’t go away for the holidays on the eight o’clock -train. But I did come down to the office and proceeded to locate my -missing nine cents. After which I unfolded the tale of the ghost and the -treasure—only keeping quiet the matter of my private loot. Of which I -was heartily glad afterwards. For when the government learned of the -find what do you suppose they offered me for going about with the ghost -and discovering the secret room and treasure? Ten thousand dollars! When -I refused, stating that I would take merely, as my reward, one of the -gold dinner services, the greedy things objected at first, but I finally -had my way. And to this very day they have no idea that I—even I—have -all the beautiful jewels. Wouldn’t they be furious if they knew it? But -they aren’t apt to, unless they learn English and read this story. Which -isn’t likely.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a>{202}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_OLD_MANSION" id="THE_OLD_MANSION"></a>THE OLD MANSION.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Down</span> on Long Beach, that narrow strip of sand which stretches along the -New Jersey coast from Barnegat Inlet on the north to Little Egg Harbor -Inlet on the south, the summer sojourner at some one of the numerous -resorts, which of late years have sprung up every few miles, may, in -wandering over the sand dunes just across the bay from the village of -Manahawkin, stumble over some charred timbers or vestiges of crumbling -chimneys, showing that once, years back, a human habitation has stood -there. If the find rouses the jaded curiosity of the visitor -sufficiently to impel him to question the weatherbeaten old bayman who -sails him on his fishing trips he will learn that these relics mark the -site of one of the first summer hotels erected on the New Jersey coast.</p> - -<p>“That’s where the Old Mansion stood,” he will be informed by Captain -Nate or Captain Sam, or whatever particular captain it may chance to be, -and if by good fortune it chances to be Captain Jim, he will hear a -story that will pleasantly pass away the long wait for a sheepshead -bite.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a>{203}</span></p> - -<p>It was my good luck to have secured Captain Jim for a preceptor in the -angler’s art during my vacation last summer, and his stories and -reminiscences of Long Beach were not the least enjoyable features of the -two weeks’ sojourn.</p> - -<p>Captain Jim was not garrulous. Few of the baymen are. They are a sturdy, -self-reliant and self-controlled people, full of strong common sense, -but still with that firm belief in the supernatural which seems inherent -in dwellers by the sea.</p> - -<p>“The Old Mansion,” said Captain Jim, “or the Mansion of Health, for that -was its full name, was built away back in 1822, so I’ve heard my father -say. There had been a tavern close by years before that was kept by a -man named Cranmer, and people used to come from Philadelphia by stage, -sixty miles through the pines, to ‘Hawkin, and then cross here by boat. -Some would stop at Cranmer’s and others went on down the beach to -Homer’s which was clear down at End by the Inlet. Finally some of the -wealthy people concluded that they wanted better accommodations than -Cranmer gave, so they formed the Great Swamp Long Beach Company, and -built the Mansion of Health. I’ve heard that when it was built it was -the biggest hotel on the coast, and was considered a wonder. It was 120 -feet long, three stories high, and had a porch running all the way -around it, with a balcony on top.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a>{204}</span> It was certainly a big thing for -those days. I’ve heard father tell many a time of the stage loads of gay -people that used to come rattling into ‘Hawkin, each stage drawn by four -horses, and sometimes four or five of them a day in the summer. A good -many people, too, used to come in their own carriages, and leave them -over on the mainland until they were ready to go home. There were gay -times at the Old Mansion then, and it made times good for the people -along shore, too.”</p> - -<p>“How long did the Old Mansion flourish, Captain?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Well, for twenty-five or thirty years people came there summer after -summer. Then they built a railroad to Cape May, and that, with the -ghosts, settled the Mansion of Health.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by the ghosts?” I demanded.</p> - -<p>“Well, you see,” said Captain Jim, cutting off a mouthful of navy plug, -“the story got around that the old house was haunted. Some people said -there were queer things seen there, and strange noises were heard that -nobody could account for, and pretty soon the place got a bad name and -visitors were so few that it didn’t pay to keep it open any more.”</p> - -<p>“But how did it get the name of being haunted, Captain Jim?” I -persisted.</p> - -<p>“Why, it was this way,” continued the mariner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a>{205}</span> “Maybe you’ve heard of -the time early in the fifties when the Powhatan was wrecked on the beach -here, and every soul on board was lost. She was an emigrant ship, and -there were over 400 people aboard—passengers and crew. She came ashore -here during the equinoctial storm in September. There wasn’t any -life-saving stations in them days, and everyone was drowned. You can see -the long graves now over in the ‘Hawkin churchyard, where the bodies -were buried after they came ashore. They put them in three long trenches -that were dug from one end of the burying-ground to the other. The only -people on the beach that night was the man who took care of the old -mansion. He lived there with his family, and his son-in-law lived with -him. He was the wreckmaster for this part of the coast, too. It wasn’t -till the second day that the people from ‘Hawkin could get over to the -beach, and by that time the bodies had all come ashore, and the -wreckmaster had them all piled up on the sand. I was a youngster, then, -and came over with my father, and, I tell you, it was the awfullest -sight I ever saw—them long rows of drowned people, all lying there with -their white, still faces turned up to the sky. Some were women, with -their dead babies clasped tight in their arms, and some were husbands -and wives, whose bodies came ashore locked together in a death embrace. -I’ll never forget that sight as long as I live. Well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a>{206}</span> when the coroner -came and took charge he began to inquire whether any money or valuables -had been found, but the wreckmaster declared that not a solitary coin -had been washed ashore. People thought this was rather singular, as the -emigrants were, most of them, well-to-do Germans, and were known to have -brought a good deal of money with them, but it was concluded that it had -gone down with the ship. Well, the poor emigrants were given pauper -burial, and the people had begun to forget their suspicions until three -or four months later there came another storm, and the sea broke clear -over the beach, just below the Old Mansion, and washed away the sand. -Next morning early two men from ‘Hawkin sailed across the bay and landed -on the beach. They walked across on the hard bottom where the sea had -washed across, and, when about half way from the bay, one of the men saw -something curious close up against the stump of an old cedar tree. He -called the other man’s attention to it, and they went over to the stump. -What they found was a pile of leather money-belts that would have filled -a wheelbarrow. Every one was cut open and empty. They had been buried in -the sand close by the old stump, and the sea had washed away the -covering. The men didn’t go any further.</p> - -<p>“They carried the belts to their boats and sailed back to ‘Hawkin as -fast as the wind would<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a>{207}</span> take them. Of course, it made a big sensation, -and everybody was satisfied that the wreckmaster had robbed the bodies, -if he hadn’t done anything worse, but there was no way to prove it, and -so nothing was done. The wreckmaster didn’t stay around here long after -that, though. The people made it too hot for him, and he and his family -went away South, where it was said he bought a big plantation and a lot -of slaves. Years afterward the story came to ‘Hawkin somehow that he was -killed in a barroom brawl, and that his son-in-law was drowned by his -boat upsettin’ while he was out fishin’. I don’t furnish any affidavits -with that part of the story, though.</p> - -<p>“However, after that nobody lived in the Old Mansion for long at a time. -People would go there, stay a week or two, and leave—and at last it was -given up entirely to beach parties in the day time, and ghosts at -night.”</p> - -<p>“But, Captain, you don’t really believe the ghost part, do you?” I -asked.</p> - -<p>Captain Jim looked down the bay, expectorated gravely over the side of -the boat, and answered, slowly:</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t know as I would have believed in ’em if I hadn’t seen the -ghost.”</p> - -<p>“What!” I exclaimed; “you saw it? Tell me about it. I’ve always wanted -to see a ghost, or next best thing, a man who has seen one.”</p> - -<p>“It was one August, about 1861,” said the captain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a>{208}</span> “I was a young -feller then, and with a half dozen more was over on the beach cutting -salt hay. We didn’t go home at nights, but did our own cooking in the -Old Mansion kitchen, and at nights slept on piles of hay upstairs. We -were a reckless lot of scamps, and reckoned that no ghosts could scare -us. There was a big full moon that night, and it was as light as day. -The muskeeters was pretty bad, too, and it was easier to stay awake than -go to sleep. Along toward midnight me and two other fellers went out on -the old balcony, and began to race around the house. We hollered and -yelled, and chased each other for half an hour or so, and then we -concluded we had better go to sleep, so we started for the window of the -room where the rest were. This window was near one end on the ocean -side, and as I came around the corner I stopped as if I had been shot, -and my hair raised straight up on top of my head. Right there in front -of that window stood a woman looking out over the sea, and in her arms -she held a little child. I saw her as plain as I see you now. It seemed -to me like an hour she stood there, but I don’t suppose it was a second; -then she was gone. When I could move I looked around for the other boys, -and they were standing there paralyzed. They had seen the woman, too. We -didn’t say much, and we didn’t sleep much that night, and the next night -we bunked out on the beach. The rest of the crowd<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a>{209}</span> made all manner of -fun of us, but we had had all the ghost we wanted, and I never set foot -inside the old house after that.”</p> - -<p>“When did it burn down, Captain?” I asked, as Jim relapsed into silence.</p> - -<p>“Somewhere about twenty-five years ago. A beach party had been roasting -clams in the old oven, and in some way the fire got to the woodwork. It -was as dry as tinder, and I hope the ghosts were all burnt up with it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a>{210}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_MISFIT_GHOST" id="A_MISFIT_GHOST"></a>A MISFIT GHOST.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Every</span> boy with a knowledge of adventurous literature, otherwise “novels -of action,” knows of the “phantom ship,” the spook of the high seas.</p> - -<p>But it has not been known that ships themselves are haunted, and that in -the service of the United States Coast Survey there is a vessel now in -commission that is by her own officers supposed to be haunted.</p> - -<p>Yet the Eagre, a 140-foot schooner of the coast survey, is looked upon -in the service as a very undesirable vessel to be aboard of. About her -there is an atmosphere of gloom that wardroom jest cannot dispel.</p> - -<p>Duty on board her has been shunned as would be a pestilence, and stories -have been told by officers who have cruised aboard her that are not good -for timid people to hear. Officers have hesitated about telling these -uncanny stories, but they have become sufficiently well known to make a -billet to duty aboard the Eagre unwelcome among the coast survey men.</p> - -<p>The Mohawk was launched June 10, 1875, at Greenpoint, and she was then -the largest sailing yacht afloat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a>{211}</span></p> - -<p>William T. Garner, her young millionaire owner, was very proud of his -new craft, and all the then leaders of New York society were invited to -participate in the good time afloat with which her launching was -celebrated. Commodore Garner, then but thirty-three years old, and his -young wife entertained charmingly, and the trim, speedy Mohawk was -christened with unusually merry festivities. Soon after that she was -capsized by a sudden squall off the landing at Stapleton, N. Y., and six -people were drowned like rats in her cabin and forecastle.</p> - -<p>Then the Mohawk was raised at a cost of $25,000 and purchased by the -United States Government for the service of the coast survey. Her name -was changed to Eagre, for Jack Tar is proverbially superstitious, and -with the old name it would have been impossible to ship a crew.</p> - -<p>Lieutenant Higby King describes his initial experience when he was -assigned to duty on the Eagre in this way:</p> - -<p>“She had her full complement of officers minus one when I boarded her at -Newport to complete the list. Every cabin was occupied but the port -cabin by the companion way, and to that I was assigned.</p> - -<p>“We had a jolly wardroom mess that night, and I retired from it early, -as I was tired by my journey to join the vessel. The others who were -still at the table regarded my retirement to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a>{212}</span> port cabin in absolute -silence, having bidden me good-night. Their silence did not lead me to -suspect anything, though I knew that the Eagre had once been the Mohawk. -My cabin door had the usual cabin lock of brass, and the porthole was -also securely fastened. There could have been no one under the bed or -sofa, as beneath each was a facing of solid oak paneling.</p> - -<p>“I undressed lazily and left the light burning dimly in my bracket lamp. -I tried conscientiously to go to sleep for I don’t know how long with my -back turned to the light. The noise ceased in the wardroom after a time, -and I knew the others had turned in, but I felt unaccountably nervous -and restless. I turned over and faced the light, thoroughly wide awake, -and there in the single chair sat an elderly man, seemingly wrapt in -deep thought. He was dressed in a blue yachting reefer, and had a long, -gray beard. His hands were clasped in his lap, and his eyes were -downcast. His face was not pale and ghastly, as the faces of ghosts are -popularly supposed to be, but ruddy and weatherbeaten.</p> - -<p>“I regarded him in scared silence for I don’t know how long, though it -seemed an hour when he, or it, or whatever it was, disappeared. During -that time the ghost, and such I now believe it to have been, made not a -motion, nor did it say anything. Presently I looked again, and it was -gone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a>{213}</span></p> - -<p>“At breakfast the others watched me critically as I took my seat. I had -not intended to say anything about my experience, for I thought then I -had seen some sort of hallucination and strongly suspected that I was -verging on insanity. Lieutenant Irving asked me if I had slept well. I -replied that I had. ‘Didn’t you see anything?’ he inquired. I then -frankly admitted that I had and described my experience. Then I learned -that each one of the seven others present had tried the port cabin at -one time or another, and each had seen the self-same apparition. It had -acted in exactly the same way in each case, except in the case of -Irving, who shot at it with his pistol, when it immediately disappeared. -Some of the others had been led by their curiosity to inquire if anyone -lost on the Mohawk resembled the figure, and found that none of the -unfortunate ones at all fitted the description. It had been dubbed by -them the ‘misfit ghost.’ That one experience was enough for me, and -after that I, by courtesy, shared the cabin of another fellow.”</p> - -<p>Lieutenant Irving and others corroborate the story of Lieutenant King, -and as additional evidence that the Eagre is haunted, Lieutenant Irving -describes a New Year’s eve experience of the Eagre’s officers, that is, -to say the least, novel in the way of supernatural manifestations.</p> - -<p>“It was at mess. The first toast, ‘Sweethearts and Wives,’ had been -drunk, as it always is by<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a>{214}</span> Yankee sailors the world over on occasions of -festivity. Everyone was feeling happy, or, as Thackeray has it, -‘pleasant,’ when suddenly the sliding-doors separating the wardroom from -the companion way closed slowly with a loud, squeaking noise. They had -seldom been closed, and it took the entire strength of a man to start -them from their rusty fastenings. Yet upon this occasion they started -easily and closed tightly, while the officers jumped to their feet in -breathless astonishment. Half a dozen men hauled them open in haste, but -not a soul was behind them or anywhere about. ‘It must be our old friend -of the port cabin,’ suggested one, and in awe-stricken silence the -health of the ‘misfit ghost’ was drunk.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a>{215}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="AN_UNBIDDEN_GUEST" id="AN_UNBIDDEN_GUEST"></a>AN UNBIDDEN GUEST.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">My</span> cousins, Kate and Tom Howard, married at Trinity, at Easter time, -concluded to commence housekeeping by taking one of those delightfully -expensively furnished, unfurnished cottages, with which the fashionable -watering place of W—— abounds, from whose rear windows one might -almost take a plunge into the surf, the beach beginning at the back -door. They went down quite early in May, being in a great hurry to try -their domestic experiment; and, as the evenings were still cold, they -spent them about the open fire, “spooning.”</p> - -<p>It was upon one of those nights, about eleven o’clock, that they were -startled by a noise, as of some small object falling, soon followed by -the sound of heavy footsteps, and then quiet again reigned supreme. At -once Tom, poker in hand, boldly started in search of the burglar, -followed by Kate, wildly clutching at his coat-tail, and in a state of -tremor. They looked upstairs, under the various beds, Kate suggesting -that in novels they were always to be found there.</p> - -<p>The dining-room was next explored, where all<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a>{216}</span> seemed well, and, lastly -the kitchen, where they found what was evidently a solution of the -mystery. The burglar had entered by the back door, which was found to be -unlocked and slightly ajar. The first excitement subsiding, they -returned again to the dining-room, where Tom, upon closer inspection, -then discovered that one of a pair of quaint little pepper-pots, wedding -gifts, was missing, and other small articles on the sideboard had been -slightly disturbed.</p> - -<p>The next morning, when Kate mildly remonstrated with the queen of the -kitchen for her carelessness, she received a shock by being told that it -was her usual custom to leave the door open, “so that it would be aisy, -convanient loike for the milkmaid.” They parted with her, and a new maid -was engaged, whose chief qualification for the place was that she was -most faithful in the discharge of her duties, especially in “locking -up.”</p> - -<p>While they mourned the loss of the pepper-pot, still it seemed so -trifling when they thought of that lovely repousse salad bowl, sent by -Aunt Julia, which stood near by, that nothing was said of the loss -outside of the family, and the little household settled into its normal -state once more of “billing and cooing.”</p> - -<p>About a fortnight later, Tom started out one night with an old -fisherman, one of the natives, and a local “character,” to indulge in -that delightful<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a>{217}</span> pastime, so dear to the heart of man, known as -“eeling,” and, as the night was dark, the eels were particularly -“sporty,” so that it was well on towards the “wee sma’ hours” when Tom -at last returned to the cottage.</p> - -<p>He found all excitement within. Kate was in hysterics, and the new maid, -also weeping, was industriously applying the camphor bottle to her -mistress’ nose. The burglar, or ghost, as they had now decided, the -windows and doors being found to be securely locked this time, had been -abroad again, but had succeeded in purloining nothing. His royal -ghostship had amused himself, apparently, by simply walking about.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Tom! he had on such heavy boots and was so dreadfully bold about -it,” said Kate, tearfully.</p> - -<p>From that time Kate became nervous and refused to be left alone. Tom -started whenever a door creaked, and the “treasure” departed hurriedly, -saying, “Faith, the house is haunted, sure.”</p> - -<p>After that Kate spent her days in “girl hunting,” and her nights in -answering shadowy advertisements that never materialized. They tried -Irish, English, Dutch, and a “heathen Chinee,” with a sprinkling of -“colored ladies” to vary the monotony. They seemed about to become -famous throughout the length and breadth of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a>{218}</span> land as “the family -that changes help once a week,” when they landed Treasure No. 2.</p> - -<p>Shortly after her advent we were all asked down to W——, to help -celebrate their happiness, and incidentally to christen the new dinner -set. We were not a little surprised at finding Kate so pale and Tom -rather distrait. However, after a delightful dinner, that should have -filled with pleasure the most exacting bride, we adjourned to the -piazza, leaving the men to the contemplation of their cigars. We were -enthusiastic in our praise of the house, and congratulated Kate in -securing such a prize, when, to our horror, she burst into tears, and -said: “Oh, girls, it’s a dreadful place; it’s haunted!” and then -tearfully proceeded with the details, until we all felt creepy and -suggested the parlor and lights.</p> - -<p>It was not until long afterwards that Kate discovered that Tom had also -related the “ghost story” to the men, that evening, to which Ned Harris -had said, laconically, “Rats,” and Bob Shaw laughingly remarked, “Tom, -old chap, you really shouldn’t take your nightcap so strong.”</p> - -<p>About the first of July the climax came. The ghost walked again, this -time taking not only the remaining pepper-pot, but also a silver -salt-cellar. Evidently he had a penchant for small articles, but unlike -former times, everything on the sideboard was in the greatest disorder. -Aunt Julia’s salad bowl was found on the floor, and not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a>{219}</span> far away the -cheese-dish, with its contents scattered about. This time one of the -windows was found half open. A week later a note came to me from Kate, -saying that she and Tom had gone to Saratoga to spend the remainder of -the season with her mother.</p> - -<p>The following spring Tom received a note and parcel from Mr. B——, the -owner of the house at W——, which read as follows:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Howard</span>: I send you by express three articles of silver, -which my wife suggests may belong to you, as they are marked with -your initials, namely, two silver pepper-pots and a salt-cellar; -they were found, the other day, during the process of spring house -cleaning, in a rat hole, behind the sideboard. I forgot to have the -holes stopped up last spring, or to caution you against the water -rats; the great fellows will get in, you know. Kind regards to Mrs. -Howard.</p> - -<p class="c"> -Very truly,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">John B</span>——.<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>The next season the “Ghost Club” was organized, the badge being a small -silver rat, bearing proudly aloft a tiny pepper-pot. We thoughtfully -offered Tom the presidency, but he declined, with offended dignity, from -the effects of which I think he will never fully recover.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a>{220}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_DEAD_WOMANS_PHOTOGRAPH" id="THE_DEAD_WOMANS_PHOTOGRAPH"></a>THE DEAD WOMAN’S PHOTOGRAPH.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Virgil Hoyt</span> is a photographer’s assistant up at St. Paul, and a man of a -good deal of taste. He has been in search of the picturesque all over -the West, and hundreds of miles to the north in Canada, and can speak -three or four Indian dialects, and put a canoe through the rapids. That -is to say, he is a man of an adventurous sort and no dreamer. He can -fight well and shoot well and swim well enough to put up a winning race -with the Indian boys, and he can sit all day in the saddle and not dream -about it at night.</p> - -<p>Wherever he goes he uses his camera.</p> - -<p>“The world,” Hoyt is in the habit of saying to those who sit with him -when he smokes his pipe, “was created in six days to be photographed. -Man—and especially woman—was made for the same purpose. Clouds are not -made to give moisture, nor trees to cast shade. They were created for -the photographer.”</p> - -<p>In short, Virgil Hoyt’s view of the world is whimsical, and he doesn’t -like to be bothered with anything disagreeable. That is the reason<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a>{221}</span> that -he loathes and detests going to a house of mourning to photograph a -corpse. The horribly bad taste of it offends him partly, and partly he -is annoyed at having to shoulder, even for a few moments, a part of -someone’s burden of sorrow. He doesn’t like sorrow, and would willingly -canoe 500 miles up the cold Canadian rivers to get rid of it. -Nevertheless, as assistant photographer, it is often his duty to do this -very kind of thing.</p> - -<p>Not long ago he was sent for by a rich Jewish family at St. Paul to -photograph the mother, who had just died. He was very much put out, but -he went. He was taken to the front parlor, where the dead woman lay in -her coffin. It was evident that there was some excitement in the -household and that a discussion was going on, but Hoyt wasn’t concerned, -and so he paid no attention to the matter.</p> - -<p>The daughter wanted the coffin turned on end, in order that the corpse -might face the camera properly, but Hoyt said he could overcome the -recumbent attitude and make it appear that the face was taken in the -position it would naturally hold in life, and so they went out and left -him alone with the dead.</p> - -<p>The face was a strong and positive one, such as may often be seen among -Jewish matrons. Hoyt regarded it with some admiration, thinking to -himself that she was a woman who had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a>{222}</span> used to having her own way. -There was a strand of hair out of place, and he pushed it back from her -brow. A bud lifted its head too high from among the roses on her breast -and spoiled the contour of the chin, so he broke it off. He remembered -these things later very distinctly and that his hand touched her bare -face two or three times.</p> - -<p>Then he took the photographs and left the house.</p> - -<p>He was very busy at the time and several days elapsed before he was able -to develop the plates. He took them from the bath, in which they had -lain with a number of others, and went to work upon them. There were -three plates, he having taken that number merely as a precaution against -any accident. They came up well, but as they developed he became aware -of the existence of something in the photograph which had not been -apparent to his eye. The mysterious always came under the head of the -disagreeable with him, and was therefore to be banished, so he made only -a few prints and put the things away out of sight. He hoped that -something would intervene to save him from attempting an explanation.</p> - -<p>But it is a part of the general perplexity of life that things do not -intervene as they ought and when they ought, so one day his employer -asked him what had become of those photographs. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a>{223}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/p223.jpg" width="316" height="500" alt="Image unavailable: “They left him alone with the dead.”" title="" /> -<br /> -<span class="caption">“They left him alone with the dead.”</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a>{224}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">tried to evade him, but it was futile, and he got out the finished -photographs and showed them to him. The older man sat staring at them a -long time.</p> - -<p>“Hoyt,” said he, at length, “you’re a young man, and I suppose you have -never seen anything like this before. But I have. Not exactly the same -thing, but similar phenomena have come my way a number of times since I -went into the business, and I want to tell you there are things in -heaven and earth not dreamt of——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know all that tommy-rot,” cried Hoyt, angrily, “but when anything -happens I want to know the reason why, and how it is done.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said his employer, “then you might explain why and how the -sun rises.”</p> - -<p>But he humored the younger man sufficiently to examine with him the bath -in which the plates were submerged and the plates themselves. All was as -it should be. But the mystery was there and could not be done away with.</p> - -<p>Hoyt hoped against hope that the friends of the dead woman would somehow -forget about the photographs, but of course the wish was unreasonable, -and one day the daughter appeared and asked to see the photographs of -her mother.</p> - -<p>“Well, to tell the truth,” stammered Hoyt, “those didn’t come out as -well as we could wish.”</p> - -<p>“But let me see them,” persisted the lady. “I’d like to look at them, -anyway.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a>{225}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/p225.jpg" width="347" height="500" alt="Image unavailable: “He showed her the prints.”" title="" /> -<br /> -<span class="caption">“He showed her the prints.”</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a>{226}</span></p> - -<p>“Well, now,” said Hoyt, trying to be soothing, as he believed it was -always best to be with women—to tell the truth, he was an ignoramus -where women were concerned—“I think it would be better if you didn’t -see them. There are reasons why——” he ambled on like this, stupid man -that he was, and of course the Jewess said she would see those pictures -without any further delay.</p> - -<p>So poor Hoyt brought them out and placed them in her hand, and then ran -for the water pitcher, and had to be at the bother of bathing her -forehead to keep her from fainting.</p> - -<p>For what the lady saw was this: Over face and flowers and the head of -the coffin fell a thick veil, the edges of which touched the floor in -some places. It covered the features so well that not a hint of them was -visible.</p> - -<p>“There was nothing over mother’s face,” cried the lady at length.</p> - -<p>“Not a thing,” acquiesced Hoyt. “I know, because I had occasion to touch -her face just before I took the picture. I put some of her hair back -from her brow.”</p> - -<p>“What does it mean, then?” asked the lady.</p> - -<p>“You know better than I. There is no explanation in science. Perhaps -there is some in psychology.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the lady, stammering a little and coloring, “mother was a -good woman, but she<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a>{227}</span> always wanted her own way, and she always had it, -too.”</p> - -<p>“Yes?”</p> - -<p>“And she never would have her picture taken. She didn’t admire herself. -She said no one should ever see a picture of hers.”</p> - -<p>“So?” said Hoyt, meditatively. “Well, she’s kept her word, hasn’t she?”</p> - -<p>The two stood looking at the pictures for a time. Then Hoyt pointed to -the open blaze in the grate.</p> - -<p>“Throw them in,” he commanded. “Don’t let your father see them—don’t -keep them yourself. They wouldn’t be good things to keep.”</p> - -<p>“That’s true enough,” said the lady, slowly. And she threw them in the -fire. Then Virgil Hoyt brought out the plates and broke them before her -eyes.</p> - -<p>And that was the end of it—except that Hoyt sometimes tells the story -to those who sit beside him when his pipe is lighted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a>{228}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_GHOST_OF_A_LIVE_MAN" id="THE_GHOST_OF_A_LIVE_MAN"></a>THE GHOST OF A LIVE MAN.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">We</span> were in the South Atlantic Ocean, in the latitude of the island of -Fernando Norohna, about 40 degrees 12 minutes south, on board the barque -H. G. Johnson, homeward bound from Australia. I was the only passenger, -and we had safely rounded Cape Horn, with the barometer at 28 degrees 18 -minutes, and yet had somehow miraculously escaped any extremely heavy -gale—had had light northerly and easterly winds till we reached 20 -degrees, and thence the southeast trades were sending us fast on our way -to the equator. I sat on deck smoking my pipe, with a glorious full moon -shedding its bright pathway across the blue waters, and chatting with -the first mate, a man some fifty-eight years of age, who had followed -the sea since he was a boy. For twenty years or more he had been mate or -captain, and many and varied were the experiences he could relate. A -thorough sailor and skillful navigator, he was as honest as the day is -long—had a heart as big as an ox and was an all-round good fellow and -genial companion. Some of his yarns might be taken cum grano<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a>{229}</span> salis, yet -he always positively assured me that he “was telling me the truth.” An -account of a voyage that he made in a whaler from the Southern Ocean to -New Bedford seemed to me worthy to be repeated. He had rounded Cape Horn -six times and the Cape of Good Hope twenty-six times, besides making -many trips across the Western Ocean and to South American ports. I give -his account as near as possible in his own words:</p> - -<p>“It was in ’71 that I commanded the whaler Mary Jane. We had been out -from home over three years, and had on board a full cargo of whale oil, -besides 2,000 pounds of whalebone, which was then worth $5 per pound. I -also had been fortunate enough to find in a dead whale which we came -across a large quantity of ambergris, and our hearts were all very light -as we began our homeward voyage, and our thoughts all tended to the -hearty welcome which we should receive from wives and sweethearts when -we reached our journey’s end. Many a night as I lay in my berth I had -thought with great pleasure of the amount of money that would be coming -to me from the proceeds of our voyage when we arrived in New Bedford.</p> - -<p>“I calculated that I had made $12,000 as my share of the proceeds of the -whalebone and oil—to say nothing of the ambergris, which I well knew -would bring at least $20,000, and one-half<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a>{230}</span> of which belonged to me. You -can therefore imagine that I was well pleased with myself as we went -bounding along through the southeast trades. We crossed the equator in -longitude 36 and soon after took strong northeast trades, and all was -going as well as I could wish. We had put the ship in perfect order, -painted her inside and out, and you would never have recognized her as -the old whaling ship that had for three years been plying the Southern -Ocean for whales. Never shall I forget an old bull whale that we tackled -about two degrees to the south of Cape Horn—but that is another story, -which I will give you another time.</p> - -<p>“We had just lost the northeast trades and were entering the Gulf -Stream. I sat in my cabin with my chart on the table before me rolled -up. I had just picked our location on it, and was thinking that in a -week more I should be at home, surrounded by those near and dear to me, -and relating to them the story of my great good fortune.</p> - -<p>“It was always my custom to work up my latitude and longitude about four -o’clock in the afternoon, and then after supper pick off her position on -the chart, have a smoke and perhaps just before retiring a nip of grog, -and then at 8.30 o’clock, as regular as a clock, I would turn in.</p> - -<p>“I am a great smoker, and this day I had been smoking all the afternoon, -besides having had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a>{231}</span> two or three nips. We had a dog on board whom we -called ‘Bosun,’ who had been out with us all the voyage, and who was -afraid of nothing. He had endeared himself to every man on board, and -when Bosun ‘took water’ something very serious was in the wind. This -night as I sat in the cabin I heard a most dismal howl from Bosun, and -called out to the mate to know what was the matter with the dog. He -replied that he ‘reckoned some of the men had been teasing him,’ and the -occurrence soon passed from my mind.</p> - -<p>“Suddenly I saw someone coming down the after companion way into the -cabin. I supposed at first it was the mate and wondered that he had not -first spoken to me, but then I noticed that he wore clothes I had never -seen on the mate, and as he advanced into the cabin I saw his face. It -was the face of a man I had never seen in my life. He was thin and pale -and haggard, and as he advanced he looked about the cabin and at the -rolled up chart on the table. There seemed to be an appeal in his eyes, -and then there swept over his face a look of intense disappointment, and -before I could move or speak, he had vanished from my sight.</p> - -<p>“Now I am a very practical man, and I at once straightened myself in my -chair and said to myself: ‘Well, old man, you have smoked one too many -pipes to-day, or else you have had one drink too much, for you have been -asleep in your<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a>{232}</span> chair and seen a ghost.’ I was quite satisfied that I -had had a dream, especially as I called to the mate and asked him if he -had seen anyone come below. He said no; that he had not left the deck -for the last hour, and the man at the wheel, directly in front of the -door, was sure no one had entered the cabin, so I convinced myself that -I had had a very vivid dream—though I could not help thinking of the -matter all through the next day.</p> - -<p>“At eight o’clock the next evening I sat in the same place with my work -just finished and the chart lying rolled up on the table before me, when -suddenly the dog’s dismal howl rang through the ship, and looking up I -saw those same legs coming down the after companion. My hair fairly -stood on end, and yet to-day surely I was wide awake. I had only smoked -one pipe all day, and had not touched a drop of liquor. The same wan, -emaciated figure walked into the cabin, glanced inquiringly and -appealingly at me, and again there spread over his face that look of -utter disappointment as if he had sought something and failed to find -it, and again he disappeared. I rushed on deck to the mate and told him -all I had seen during the last two nights; but he made light of it, and -assured me I had been asleep or smoking too much. He did not like to -suggest that I had been drinking. Still, I could see that the thought -that came into his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a>{233}</span> mind was ‘The old man has seen ’em again.’ I gave up -trying to convince him, but requested that the next night, from 8 to -8.30, he should sit with me in the cabin.</p> - -<p>“How the next day passed I cannot tell. I only know that my thoughts -never left that ghostly visitant, and somehow I felt that the evening -would reveal something to me and the spell be broken. I made up my mind -I would speak to the thing, whatever it was, and I felt a sort of -security in the presence of the mate, who was a daring fellow and feared -neither man nor the devil. Neither rum nor tobacco passed my lips during -the next day, and eight o’clock found the mate and I sitting in the -cabin, and this time the chart lay open on the table beside us. Just as -eight bells struck the dog’s premonitory wail sounded, and looking up we -both saw the figure descending the cabin stairs. We both seemed frozen -to our seats, and the strange weirdness of the whole proceeding cast the -same spell over the mate and me alike, and we were both unable to move -or speak. Slowly the figure proceeded into the cabin and glanced around -without a word, but with the same expectant look on his face. His form -was even more wasted, his cheeks sunken and his eyes seemed almost out -of sight so deeply were they set in their sockets. As his eye fell on -the open chart a look of supreme joy fairly irradiated his features, and -advancing to the table he placed one long, bony finger on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a>{234}</span> chart, -held it for a moment and then again disappeared from our sight.</p> - -<p>“For five minutes after he had left us we sat speechless. Then I managed -to say: ‘What do you think of that, Mr. Morris?’ ‘My God! sir, I don’t -know—it’s beyond me.’ Then my eyes fell on the open chart and there -where the finger had been was a tiny spot of blood, exactly on the point -of longitude 63 degrees west and latitude 37 degrees north. We were then -only about fifty miles distant from that position, and immediately there -came to me the determination to steer the ship there; so I laid her -course accordingly, and posted a lookout in the crow’s nest. At five -o’clock in the morning, just as the east began to grow gray, the lookout -called out: ‘Boat on the lee bow,’ and as we came up to it we found four -men in it—three dead and one with just a remnant of life left in him. -We sewed the three bodies in canvas and buried them in the ocean, and -then gave all our attention to restoring life to the poor emaciated -frame, which, I then recognized, was the very man who for three -successive nights had visited me in my cabin.</p> - -<p>“By judicious and careful nursing life gradually came back to him, and -in four days’ time he was able to sit up and talk with me in the cabin. -It seems he commanded the ship Promise, and she had taken fire and been -destroyed, and all hands had to take to the boats. Ten were in the boats -at first, but their food had given out, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a>{235}</span> one by one he had seen them -die, and one by one he had cast the bodies overboard. Finally he lost -consciousness and knew not whether his three remaining companions were -dead or alive.</p> - -<p>“Then he said he seemed in a dream to see a ship and tried to go to her -for help, but just as he would be going on board of her something would -seem to keep him back; three times in his dreams he tried to visit this -ship, and the last time there seemed to come to him a certain -satisfaction, and he felt that he had succeeded in his object. Turning -to my table, he said: ‘Let me take your chart; I’ll show you just where -we were.’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Stop,’ said I, ‘don’t take that chart, it is an old one and all marked -over. Mark your position on this new one.’ He took my pencil and knife, -and carefully sharpened his pencil. Then, taking my dividers, he -measured his latitude and longitude and placed a pencil dot at a point -on the clean chart. As he lifted his hand he said: ‘Oh, excuse me, -captain, I cut my finger in sharpening the pencil and have left a drop -of blood on the chart.’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Never mind,’ said I, ‘leave it there.’ And then I produced the old -chart and there, in an exactly corresponding place was the drop of blood -left by my ghostly visitor.”</p> - -<p>Then looking steadily into my face the mate solemnly added: “I can’t -explain this, sir, perhaps you can; but I can tell you on my honor it is -God’s own truth that I have told you.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a>{236}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_GHOST_OF_WASHINGTON" id="THE_GHOST_OF_WASHINGTON"></a>THE GHOST OF WASHINGTON.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was early on Christmas morning when John Reilly wheeled away from a -picturesque little village where he had passed the previous night, to -continue his cycling tour through eastern Pennsylvania. To-day his -intention was to stop at Valley Forge, and then to ride on up the -Schuylkill Valley, visiting in turn the many points of historical -interest that lay along his route. Valley Forge, his road map indicated, -was but a short distance further on. All around him were the hills and -fields and roads over which Washington and his half-starved army had -foraged and roamed throughout the trying winter of 1777-8—one hundred -and twenty-six years ago.</p> - -<p>It was a beautiful Christmas day, truly, and, as he wheeled along, young -Reilly’s thoughts were almost equally divided between the surrounding -pleasant scenery and the folks at home, who, he knew very well, were -assembling at just about the present time around a heavily laden -Christmas tree in the front parlor. The sun rose higher and higher and -Reilly pedaled on down the valley, passing every now and then quaint, -pleasant-looking farmhouses, many of which, no doubt,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a>{237}</span> had been built -anterior to the period which had given the vicinity its history.</p> - -<p>Arriving, finally, at a place where the road forked off in two -directions, Reilly was puzzled which way to go on. There happened to be -a dwelling close by. Accordingly he dismounted, left his wheel leaning -against a gate-post at the side of the road, and walked up a wretchedly -flagged walk leading to the house, with the idea of getting instructions -from its inmates.</p> - -<p>Situated in the center of an unkempt field of rank grass and weeds, the -building lay back from the highway probably one hundred and fifty feet. -It was long and low in shape, containing but one story and having what -is termed a gabled roof, under which there must have been an attic of no -mean size. On coming close to the house, a fact Reilly had not noticed -from the road became plainly evident. It was deserted. He saw that the -roof and side shingles were in wretched condition; that the window -sashes and frames as well as the doors and door frames were missing from -the openings in the side walls where once they had been, and that the -entire side of the house, including that part of the stone foundation -which showed above the ground, was full of cracks and seams. At first on -the point of turning back, he concluded to see what the interior was -like anyway.</p> - -<p>Accordingly he went inside. Glancing around the large dust-filled room -he had entered his gaze<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a>{238}</span> at first failed to locate any object of the -least interest. A rickety appearing set of steps went up into the attic -from one side of the apartment and over in one corner was a large open -fireplace, from the walls of which much of the brickwork had become -loosened and fallen out. Reilly had started up the steps toward the -attic, when happening to look back for an instant, his attention was -attracted to a singular-looking, jug-shaped bottle no larger than a -vinegar cruet, which lay upon its side on the hearth of the fireplace, -partly covered up by debris of loose bricks and mortar. He hastened back -down the steps and crossed the room, taking the bottle up in his hand -and examining it with curiosity. Being partly filled with a liquid of -some kind or other the bottle was very soon uncorked and held under the -young man’s nose. The liquid gave forth a peculiar, pungent and inviting -odor. Without further hesitation Reilly’s lips sought the neck of the -bottle. It is hardly possible to describe the pleasure and satisfaction -his senses experienced as he drank.</p> - -<p>While the fluid was still gurgling down his throat a heavy hand was -placed most suddenly on his shoulder and his body was given a violent -shaking. The bottle fell to the floor and was broken into a hundred -pieces.</p> - -<p>“Hello!” said a rough voice almost in Reilly’s ear. “Who are you, -anyway? And what are you doing within the lines? A spy, I’ll be bound.”</p> - -<p>As most assuredly there had been no one else<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a>{239}</span> in the vicinity of the -building when he had entered it and with equal certainty no one had come -down the steps from the attic, Reilly was naturally surprised and -mystified by this unexpected assault. He struggled instinctively to -break loose from the unfriendly grasp, and when he finally succeeded he -twisted his body around so that he faced across the room. Immediately he -made the remarkable discovery that there were four other persons in the -apartment—three uncouth-looking fellows habited in fantastic but ragged -garments, and a matronly-looking woman, the latter standing over a -washtub which had been elevated upon two chairs in a corner near the -fireplace. To all appearance the woman had been busy at her work and had -stopped for the moment to see what the men were going to do; her waist -sleeves were rolled up to the shoulders and her arms dripped with water -and soapsuds. Over the tops of the tubs, partly filled with water, there -were visible the edges of several well-soaked fabrics. Too add to his -astonishment he noticed that in the chimney-place, which a moment before -was falling apart, but now seemed to be clean and in good condition, a -cheerful fire burned, and that above the flames was suspended an iron -pot, from which issued a jet of steam. He noticed also that the entire -appearance of the room had undergone a great change. Everything seemed -to be in good repair, tidy and neat; the ceilings, the walls and the -door; even the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a>{240}</span> stairway leading to the attic. The openings in the walls -were fitted with window sashes and well-painted doors. The apartment -had, in fact, evolved under his very eyesight from a state of absolute -ruin into one of excellent preservation.</p> - -<p>All of this seemed so weird and uncanny, that Reilly stood for a moment -or two in the transformed apartment, utterly dumbfounded, with his mouth -wide open and his eyes all but popping out of his head. He was brought -to his senses by the fellow who had shaken him growling out:</p> - -<p>“Come! Explain yourself!”</p> - -<p>“An explanation is due me,” Reilly managed to gasp.</p> - -<p>“Don’t bandy words with the rascal, Harry,” one of the other men spoke -up. “Bring him along to headquarters.”</p> - -<p>Thereupon, without further parley, the three men marched Reilly in -military fashion into the open air and down to the road. Here he picked -up at the gate-post his bicycle, while they unstacked a group of three -old-fashioned-looking muskets located close by. When the young man had -entered the house a few minutes before, this stack of arms had not been -there. He could not understand it. Neither could he understand, on -looking back at the building as he was marched off down the road, the -mysterious agency that had transformed its dilapidated exterior, just as -had been the interior, into a practically new condition.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a>{241}</span></p> - -<p>While they trudged along, the strangers exhibited a singular interest in -the wheel Reilly pushed at his side, running their coarse hands over the -frame and handle-bar, and acting on the whole as though they never -before had seen a bicycle. This in itself was another surprise. He had -hardly supposed there were three men in the country so totally -unacquainted with what is a most familiar piece of mechanism everywhere.</p> - -<p>At the same time that they were paying so much attention to the wheel, -Reilly in turn was studying with great curiosity his singular-looking -captors. Rough, unprepossessing appearing fellows they were, large of -frame and unshaven, and, it must be added, dirty of face. What remained -of their very ragged clothing, he had already noticed, was of a most -remarkable cut and design, resembling closely the garments worn by the -Continental militiamen in the War of Independence. The hats were broad, -low of crown, and three-cornered in shape; the trousers were -buff-colored and ended at the knees, and the long, blue spike-tailed -coats were flapped over at the extremities of the tails, the flaps being -fastened down with good-sized brass buttons. Leather leggings were -strapped around cowhide boots, through the badly worn feet of which, in -places where the leather had cracked open, the flesh, unprotected by -stockings, could be seen. Dressed as he was, in a cleanly, gray cycling -costume,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a>{242}</span> Reilly’s appearance, most assuredly, was strongly in contrast -to that of his companions.</p> - -<p>After a brisk walk of twenty minutes, during which they occasionally met -and passed by one or two or perhaps a group of men clothed and outfitted -like Reilly’s escorts, the little party followed the road up a slight -incline and around a well-wooded bend to the left, coming quite -suddenly, and to the captive, very unexpectedly, to what was without -doubt a military encampment; a village, in fact, composed of many rows -of small log huts. Along the streets, between the buildings, muskets -were stacked in hundreds of places. Over in one corner, on a slight -eminence commanding the road up which they had come, and cleverly hidden -from it behind trees and shrubbery, the young man noticed a battery of -field pieces. Wherever the eye was turned on this singular scene were -countless numbers of soldiers all garmented in three-cornered hats, -spike-tailed coats and knee breeches, walking lazily hither and thither, -grouped around crackling fires, or parading up and down the streets in -platoons under the guidance of ragged but stern-looking officers.</p> - -<p>Harry stopped the little procession of four in front of one of the -larger of the log houses. Then, while they stood there, the long blast -from a bugle was heard, followed by the roll of drums. A minute or two -afterward, several companies of militia marched up and grounded their -arms,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a>{243}</span> forming three sides of a hollow square around them, the fourth -and open side being toward the log house. Directly succeeding this -maneuver there came through the doorway of the house and stepped up the -center of the square, stopping directly in front of Reilly, a -dignified-looking person, tall and straight and splendidly proportioned -of figure, and having a face of great nobility and character.</p> - -<p>The cold chills chased one another down Reilly’s back. His limbs swayed -and tottered beneath his weight. He had never experienced another such -sensation of mingled astonishment and fright.</p> - -<p>He was in the presence of General Washington. Not a phantom Washington, -either, but Washington in the flesh and blood; as material and earthly a -being as ever crossed a person’s line of vision. Reilly, in his time, -had seen so many portraits, marble busts and statues of the great -commander that he could not be mistaken. Recovering the use of his -faculties, which for the moment he seemed to have lost, Reilly did the -very commonplace thing that others before him have done when placed -unexpectedly in remarkable situations. He pinched himself to make sure -that he was in reality wide awake and in the natural possession of his -senses. He felt like pinching the figure in front of him also, but he -could not muster up the courage to do that. He stood there trying to -think it all out, and as his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a>{244}</span> thoughts became less stagnant, his fright -dissolved under the process of reasoning his mind pursued. To reason a -thing out, even though an explanation can only be obtained by leaving -much of the subject unaccounted for, tends to make one bolder and less -shaky in the knees.</p> - -<p>The series of strange incidents which he was experiencing had been -inaugurated in the old-fashioned dwelling he had visited after -information concerning the roads. And everything had been going along in -a perfectly normal way up to, the very moment when he had taken a drink -from the bottle found in the fireplace. But from that precise time -everything had gone wrongly. Hence the inference that the drinking of -the peculiar liquid was accountable in some way or other for his -troubles. There was a supernatural agency in the whole thing. That much -must be admitted. And whatever that agency was, and however it might be -accounted for, it had taken Reilly back into a period of time more than -a hundred years ago, and landed him, body and soul, within the lines of -the patriot forces wintering at Valley Forge. He might have stood there, -turning over and over in his mind, pinching himself and muttering, all -the morning, had not the newcomer ceased a silent but curious inspection -of his person, and asked: “Who are you, sir?”</p> - -<p>“John Reilly, at your pleasure,” the young man replied, adding a -question on his own account: “And who are you, sir?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a>{245}</span></p> - -<p>Immediately he received a heavy thump on his back from Harry’s hard -fist.</p> - -<p>“It is not for you to question the general,” the ragged administrator of -the blow exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“And it is not for you to be so gay,” Reilly returned, angrily, giving -the blow back with added force.</p> - -<p>“Here, here!” broke in the first questioner. “Fisticuffs under my very -nose! No more of this, I command you both.” To Harry he added an extra -caution: “Your zeal in my behalf will be better appreciated by being -less demonstrative. Blows should be struck only on the battlefield.” To -Reilly he said, with a slight smile hovering over his face, “My name is -Washington. Perhaps you may have heard of me?”</p> - -<p>To this Reilly replied: “I have, indeed, and heard you very well spoken -of, too.” Emboldened by the other’s smile, he ventured another question: -“I think my reckoning of the day and year is badly at fault. An hour ago -I thought the day was Christmas day. How far out of the way did my -calculation take me, sir?”</p> - -<p>“The day is indeed Christmas day, and the year is, as you must know, the -year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-seven.”</p> - -<p>Reilly again pinched himself.</p> - -<p>“Why do you bring this man to me?” Washington now inquired, turning to -Harry and his companions.</p> - -<p>“He is a spy, sir,” said Harry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a>{246}</span></p> - -<p>“That is a lie!” Reilly indignantly interpolated. “I have done nothing -to warrant any such charge.”</p> - -<p>“We found him in the Widow Robin’s house, pouring strong liquor down his -throat.”</p> - -<p>“I had gone inside after information concerning the roads——”</p> - -<p>“Which he was getting from a bottle, sir.”</p> - -<p>“If drinking from a bottle of necessity constitutes being a spy, I fear -our camp is already a hotbed,” Washington somewhat sagely remarked, -casting his eye around slyly at his officers and men. “Tell me,” he went -on, with sudden sternness, looking Reilly through and through, as though -to read his very thoughts, “is the charge true? Do you come from Howe?”</p> - -<p>“The charge is not true, sir. I come from no one. I simply am making a -tour of pleasure through this part of the country on my bicycle.”</p> - -<p>“With the country swarming with the men from two hostile armies, any -kind of a tour, save one of absolute necessity, seems ill-timed.”</p> - -<p>“When I set out I knew nothing about any armies. The fact is, sir——” -Reilly started to make an explanation, but he checked himself on -realizing that the telling of any such improbable yarn would only -increase the hazardousness of his position.</p> - -<p>“Well?” Washington questioned, in a tone of growing suspicion.</p> - -<p>“I certainly did not know that your army or<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a>{247}</span> any other army was -quartered in this vicinity.” Reilly hesitated for lack of something -further to say. “You see,” he finally added, prompted by a happy idea, -“I rode my wheel from New York.”</p> - -<p>“You may have come from New York, though it is hard to believe you came -on that singular-looking machine so great a distance. Where is the horse -which drew the vehicle?”</p> - -<p>Reilly touched his bicycle. “This is the horse, sir, just as it is; the -vehicle,” he said.</p> - -<p>“The man is crazy!” Harry exclaimed. Washington only looked the -incredulity he felt, and this time asked a double question.</p> - -<p>“How can the thing be balanced without it be held upright by a pair of -shafts from a horse’s back, and how is the motive power acquired?”</p> - -<p>For an answer Reilly jumped upon the wheel, and at a considerable speed -and in a haphazard way pedaled around the space within the hollow square -of soldiers. Hither and thither he went, at one second nearly wheeling -over the toes of the line of astonished, if not frightened, militiamen; -at the next, bearing suddenly down on Harry and his companions and -making them dance and jump about most alertly to avoid a collision. Even -the dignified Washington was once or twice put to the necessity of -dodging hurriedly aside when his equilibrium was threatened. Reilly -eventually dismounted, doing so with assumed clumsiness by stopping the -wheel at Harry’s back and falling over heavily against the soldier.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a>{248}</span> -Harry tumbled to the ground, but Reilly dexterously landed on his feet. -At once he began offering a profusion of apologies.</p> - -<p>“You did that by design!” Harry shouted, jumping to his feet. His face -was red with anger and he shook his fist threateningly at the bicyclist.</p> - -<p>Washington commanded the man to hold his peace. Then to Reilly he -expressed a great surprise at his performance and a desire to know more -about the bicycle. The young man thereupon described the machine -minutely, lifting it into the air and spinning the wheels to illustrate -how smoothly they rotated.</p> - -<p>“I can see it is possible to ride the contrivance with rapidity. It has -been put together with wonderful ingenuity,” Washington said, when -Reilly had replaced the wheel on the ground.</p> - -<p>“And you, sir, it is but a toy,” an officer spoke up. “Put our friend on -his bundle of tin and race him against one of our horsemen and he would -make a sorry showing.”</p> - -<p>Reilly smiled. “I bear the gentleman no ill-will for his opinion,” he -said. “Still, I should like to show him by a practical test of the -subject that his ignorance of it is most profound.”</p> - -<p>“You would test the speed of the machine against that of a horse?” -Washington said, in amazement.</p> - -<p>“I would, sir. You have a good road yonder.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a>{249}</span> With your permission and a -worthy opponent I would make the test at once.”</p> - -<p>“But, sir, the man is a spy,” Harry broke in. “Would it not be better to -throw a rope around his neck and give him his deserts?”</p> - -<p>“The charge is by no means proven,” Washington replied. “Nor can it be -until a court martial convenes this afternoon. And I see no reason why -we may not in the meantime enjoy the unique contest which has been -suggested. It will make a pleasant break in the routine of camp life.”</p> - -<p>A murmur of approval went up from the masses of men by whom they were -surrounded. While they had been talking it seemed as though everybody in -the camp not already on the scene had gathered together behind the -square of infantry.</p> - -<p>“Then, sir,” Harry said, with some eagerness, “I would like to be the -man to ride the horse. There is no better animal than mine anywhere. And -I understand his tricks and humors quite well enough to put him to his -best pace.”</p> - -<p>“I confess I have heard you well spoken of as a horseman,” Washington -said. “Be away with you! Saddle and bridle your horse at once.”</p> - -<p>It was the chain of singular circumstances narrated above which brought -John Reilly into the most remarkable contest of his life. He had entered -many bicycle races at one time or other, always with credit to himself -and to the club<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a>{250}</span> whose colors he wore. And he had every expectation of -making a good showing to-day. Yet a reflection of the weird conditions -which had brought about the present contest took away some of his -self-possession when a few minutes later he was marched over to the -turnpike and left to his own thoughts, while the officers were pacing -out a one mile straightaway course down the road.</p> - -<p>After the measurements had been taken, two unbroken lines of soldiers -were formed along the entire mile; a most evident precaution against -Reilly leaving the race course at any point to escape across the fields. -Washington came up to him again, when the preparations were completed, -to shake his hand and whisper a word or two of encouragement in his ear. -Having performed these kindly acts he left to take up a position near -the point of finish.</p> - -<p>The beginning of the course was located close to the battery of half -concealed field pieces. Reilly was now conducted to this place. Shortly -afterward Harry appeared on his horse. He leered at the bicyclist -contemptuously and said something of a sarcastic nature partly under his -breath when the two lined up, side by side, for the start. To these -slights Reilly paid no heed; he had a strong belief that when the race -was over there would be left in the mutton-like head of his opponent -very little of his present inclination toward the humorous. The -soldier’s mount<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a>{251}</span> was a handsome black mare, fourteen and a half hands -high; strong of limbs and at the flanks, and animated by a spirit that -kept her prancing around with continuous action. It must be admitted -that the man rode very well. He guided the animal with ease and -nonchalance when she reared and plunged, and kept her movements confined -to an incredibly small piece of ground, considering her abundance of -action.</p> - -<p>“Keep to your own side of the road throughout the race. I don’t want to -be collided with by your big beast,” Reilly cautioned, while they were -awaiting two signals from the starter.</p> - -<p>To this Harry replied in some derision, “I’ll give you a good share of -the road at the start, and all of it and my dust, too, afterward.” And -then the officer who held the pistol fired the first shot.</p> - -<p>Reilly was well satisfied with the conditions under which the race was -to be made. The road was wide and level, smooth, hard and straight, and -a strong breeze which had sprung up, blew squarely against his back. His -wheel was geared up to eighty-four inches; the breeze promised to be a -valuable adjunct in pushing it along. Awaiting the second and last -signal, Reilly glanced down the two blue ranks of soldiers, which -stretched away into hazy lines in the distance and converged at the -termination of the course where a flag had been stuck into the ground. -The soldiers were at parade rest. Their unceasing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a>{252}</span> movements as they -chatted to one another, turning their bodies this way and that and -craning their heads forward to look toward the starting point, and then -jerking them back, made the lines seem like long, squirming snakes. At -the end of the course a thick bunch of militiamen clogged the road and -overspread into the fields.</p> - -<p>Crack! The signal to be off. Reilly shoved aside the fellow who had been -holding his wheel upright while astride of it, and pushed down on the -pedals. The mare’s hoofs dug the earth; her great muscular legs -straightened out; she sprang forward with a snort of apparent pleasure, -taking the lead at the very start. Reilly heard the shout of excitement -run along the two ranks of soldiers. He saw them waving their arms and -hats as he went by. And on ahead through the cloud of dust there was -visible the shadow-like outlines of the snorting, galloping horse, whose -hoof beats sounded clear and sharp above the din which came from the -sides of the highway. The mare crept farther and farther ahead. Very -soon a hundred feet or more of the road lay between her and the -bicyclist. Harry turned in his saddle and called out another sarcasm.</p> - -<p>“I shall pass you very soon. Keep to your own side of the road!” Reilly -shouted, not a bit daunted by the way the race had commenced. His head -was well down over the handle-bars, his back had the shape of the upper -portion of an immense egg. Up and down his legs moved; faster and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a>{253}</span> -faster and faster yet. He went by the soldiers so rapidly that they only -appeared to be two streaks of blurry color. Their sharp rasping shouts -sounded like the cracking of musketry. The cloud of dust blew against -the bicyclist’s head and into his mouth and throat. When he glanced -ahead again he saw with satisfaction that the mare was no longer -increasing her lead. It soon became evident even that he was slowly -cutting down the advantages she had secured.</p> - -<p>Harry again turned his head shortly afterward, doubtless expecting to -find his opponent hopelessly distanced by this time. Instead of this -Reilly was alarmingly close upon him. The man ejaculated a sudden oath -and lashed his animal furiously. Straining every nerve and sinew the -mare for the moment pushed further ahead. Then her pace slackened a bit -and Reilly again crept up to her. Closer and closer to her than before, -until his head was abreast of her outstretched tail. Harry was lashing -the mare and swearing at her unceasingly now. But she had spurted once -and appeared to be incapable of again increasing her speed. In this way -they went on for some little distance, Harry using his whip brutally, -the mare desperately struggling to attain a greater pace, Reilly hanging -on with tenacity to her hind flanks and giving up not an inch of ground.</p> - -<p>A mile is indeed a very short distance when traversed at such a pace. -The finishing flag was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a>{254}</span> already but a few hundred feet further on. -Reilly realized that it was time now to go to the front. He gritted his -teeth together with determination and bent his head down even further -toward his front wheel. Then his feet began to move so quickly that -there was only visible an indistinct blur at the sides of his crank -shaft. At this very second, with a face marked with rage and hatred, -Harry brought his horse suddenly across the road to thet part of it -which he had been warned to avoid.</p> - -<p>It is hard to tell what kept Reilly from being run into and trampled -under foot. An attempt at back pedaling, a sudden twist of the -handle-bar, a lurch to one side that almost threw him from his seat. -Then, in the fraction of a second he was over on the other side of the -road, pushing ahead of the mare almost as though she were standing -still. The outburst of alarm from the throats of the soldiers changed -when they saw that Reilly had not been injured; first into a shout of -indignation at the dastardly attempt which had been made to run him -down, and then into a roar of delight when the bicyclist breasted the -flag a winner of the race by twenty feet.</p> - -<p>As he crossed the line Reilly caught a glimpse of Washington. He stood -close to the flag and was waving his hat in the air with the enthusiasm -of a schoolboy. Reilly went on down the road slackening his speed as -effectively as he could. But before it was possible to entirely stop -his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a>{255}</span> wheel’s momentum the noisy acclamations in his rear ceased with -startling suddenness. He turned in his saddle and looked back. As sure -as St. Peter he had the road entirely to himself. There wasn’t a soldier -or the ghost of a soldier in sight.</p> - -<p>As soon as he could he turned his bicycle about and rode slowly back -along the highway, now so singularly deserted, looking hither and -thither in vain for some trace of the vanished army. Even the flag which -had been stuck into the ground at the end of the one-mile race course -was gone. The breeze had died out again and the air was tranquil and -warm. In the branches of a nearby tree two sparrows chirped and -twittered peacefully. Reilly went back to the place where the camp had -been. He found there only open fields on one side of the road and a -clump of woodland on the other. He continued on down the little hill up -which Harry and his companions had brought him a few hours previously -and followed the road on further, coming finally to the fork in it near -which was located the old farmhouse wherein he had been taken captive. -The house was, as it had been when he had previously entered it, falling -apart from age and neglect. When he went inside he found lying on the -brick hearth in front of the fireplace a number of pieces of broken -glass.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The End.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a>{256}</span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="sans">True Ghost Stories</p> - -<p class="c">BY HEREWARD CARRINGTON</p> - -<div class="figleft"> -<img src="images/ad001.jpg" width="150" alt="Image unavailable" /> -</div> - -<p>The author of this book is well known in both America and Europe as a -prominent scientific writer on psychical and occult subjects. He has -been a member of both the English and American Societies for Psychical -Research for more than fifteen years, has written over a dozen books on -the subject, a number of which have been translated into foreign -languages including the Japanese and Arabic, and he has lectured in -London, Paris, Rome, Venice, Milan, Geneva, Turin, etc., before -scientific organizations. His writings are well known and have earned -him a high place in psychical circles.</p> - -<p>In this book he presents a number of startling cases which he has -discovered in his unrivalled investigations of psychical mysteries. They -are not the ordinary “ghost stories,” based on pure fiction and having -no foundation in reality, but are a collection of incidents all -thoroughly investigated and vouched for, the testimony being obtained -first hand and corroborated by others.</p> - -<p>The first chapter deals with the interesting question <b>What Is a Ghost?</b> -and attempts to answer this question in the light of the latest -scientific theories which have been advanced to explain these -supernatural happenings and visitants.</p> - -<p>Other chapters are:</p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td><b>Phantasms of the Dead.</b><br /> -<b>More Phantasms.</b><br /> -<b>Haunted Houses.</b><br /> -<b>Ghost Stories of a More Dramatic Order.</b><br /> -<b>Historical Ghosts.</b><br /> -<b>The Phantom Armies Seen in France.</b><br /> -<b>Bibliography.</b></td></tr> - -</table> -<p><b>True Ghost Stories</b> is a book of absorbing interest and cannot fail to -grip and hold the attention of every reader, whether he be a student of -these questions, or merely in search of hair-raising anecdotes and -stories, he will find them here a-plenty.</p> - -<p>The book contains 250 pages printed on antique woven book paper, -attractively bound in cloth, with illustrated jacket in colors. <b>Price, -75 cents by mail, postpaid.</b></p> - -<p class="cb">J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY</p> - -<p class="cb"> -P. O. Box 767. <span style="margin-left: 20%;">57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK</span><br /> -</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Twenty-Five Ghost Stories, by W. 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