AMERICAN GHOST STORIES.

First Story.

A YOUTH, about 14 years of age, was sent to pass some weeks of his summer holidays, with a great aunt, who lived in one of the old counties of the Old Dominion. The venerable lady occupied one of those great mansion-houses, memorials of the colonial aristocracy of Virginia, built of imported bricks, full of staircases and passages, and with rooms enough to accommodate half-a-dozen families, and scores of individual guests, when congregated for some high festival. But at this time it was almost deserted. The old lady and her grand-nephew were the only white persons within its walls. She occupied a bed-room on the first floor: our hero slept in the storey next to the garret: and the servants were all in the basement. During the day, his time passed merrily enough. Horses, dogs, and guns — boating and fishing — filled up the hours with sports, in which he was supported by as many of the Africans, great and little, as he thought fit to enlist in his service. But the nights hung heavily. His aunt always went to bed at an early hour. The few books in her library were soon exhausted; and the short evenings of summer seemed to his sleepless eyes to be stretched out interminably. Now and then a gossip with some old negress, who had grown grey in the family, beguiled him with snatches of the history of the former occupants of the hall: and these narratives, as might be anticipated, were plentifully sprinkled with incidents of the superstitious character in which such old crones delight.

      One night, he had lain in bed a long time, courting in vain a relief from ennui in sleep. He had listened, till he was tired, to the ticking of the antique clock, to the whistling of the wind about the clusters of chimneys, and the echoes that repeated and prolonged every sound in the interior of the house, through its vast and empty spaces. The latter class of noises had entirely ceased: and the profound stillness that pervaded the mansion was broken only by the monotonous voice, which told him how slowly the weary minutes were passing by. He had thought over more than one tradition of the olden time, as it had been related to him, with its concomitants of a supernatural description: until, in spite of his better reason and his fixed disbelief of such things, he found himself growing nervous and uncomfortable. He began to fancy that he saw strange things in the uncertain moonlight, and was almost afraid to look at them steadily enough to undeceive himself. Suddenly, he heard, right over his head in the garret, a dull knocking sound, which travelled back and forth, now in this direction and now in that, with a succession of thumps. Anon he thought he could distinguish something like a stifled voice; and this impression was confirmed when the knocking got opposite the door of the garret, whence it came down the stairway and through the passage, unobstructed, to his room. A wild, unearthly cry, uttered as if by a person choked or muffled, and expressive of painful suffering, smote upon his ear. He started up in bed: and at this instant the sound began to descend the stairs. At first, it came down two or three steps with successive thumps — then it seemed to roll over and over, with a confused noise of struggling and scratching — and so on, with an alternation of these sounds until it reached the floor of the passage. Here the dull knocking was resumed as it had been first heard in the garret, rambling hither and thither, at one time approaching the chamber door, till the poor boy strained his eyes in instant expectation of witnessing the entry of some horrible shape. But it passed by and at last arrived at the head of the next flight of stairs, where it recommenced the descent after the manner already described. At intervals rose the same stifled wailing, so full of mortal terror and agony, that it almost froze the marrow in his bones. When he was assured by the sound that the traveller had arrived at the floor below him, he mustered courage, and by a great effort jumped out of bed, huddled on his clothes, and hurried to the head of the stairs, armed with an old sword that hung in his bed-room, and which had probably seen service in the Revolution or the old French war. But he had no mind to encounter his mysterious enemy at close quarters, and contented himself with following its progress at a safe distance, and peeping over the balusters in the hope of catching a sight of it. In this, however, he succeeded only so far, as to get one glimpse, as it passed a window, of something with an enormous and shapeless head: and the slow chase was kept up, till he found himself at the head of the steps leading down to the basement, while his ghostly disturber was at the foot, thumping and scratching at the kitchen door, and uttering the same indescribable cries as at first. Two or three of the servants had been aroused by the din, and were crouched together in the furthest corner, trembling with fear, and in momentary expectation of suffering death, or something still more dreadful. At last the latch of the door gave way to the repeated assaults of the unwelcome visitor, and he rolled into the middle of the floor, in the full blaze of the fire light, and under the very eyes of the appalled domestics.

      The mystery was at an end — the ghost exposed — and an explosion of frantic mirth succeeded to the breathless terror which oppressed them. An old grey tom cat, as it turned out, in his rambles through the house, had chanced to find in the garret a large gourd, in which the housemaids kept grease for domestic uses. Into the opening of the gourd Tom had worked his head with some difficulty, and without duly considering how he was to get it out again. When he attempted to do this, he found himself tightly grasped by the ears and jaws, and secured in a cell which became every instant more intolerable. Hence his struggles to escape — hence his unearthly and smothered cries — and hence the extraordinary varieties of locomotion, by which he accomplished his long journey from the top of the house to the bottom. Our hero drew from the issue of this adventure a confirmed resolution against a belief in the supernatural; and detailed the particulars next morning, with great unction, to his good old aunt, who had slept comfortably through the whole of the uproar.

Second Story.

      A carpenter was at work one night, at a late hour, in the second storey of an unfinished house in Philadelphia. He was a man of strong, plain sense, free from superstitious belief, and of cool courage and self-possession. On the side of the room opposite to his work-bench, came up the flight of steps from the first floor; and on the same side, but at the other end of the house, was the flight leading to the third storey. The floor on that side was clear of all rubbish, and gave him an unobstructed view of the space between the landing of the first flight of steps, and the foot of the second. Suddenly he was surprised to hear a heavy, regular, but seemingly muffled, footstep, proceeding along the floor of the room beneath. He knew that the two doors were locked, and all the windows secured, and he wondered how any one could have found entrance. How ever, as he feared no harm, he awaited with composure the coming of the intruder, whom he now distinctly heard ascending the stairway. But, when the approaching steps at last reached the landing-place, and no figure became visible, he was filled with astonishment. Without pausing, the mysterious visitor proceeded, with some vague apprehensions, which he had no time to analyze. Still he stood motionless, gazing eagerly, as the invisible night-walker mounted step after step, and had almost reached the top. And then — as if the scales had fallen from his eyes, or the object which they sought so long in vain, had flung aside the veil which concealed it — he was aware of an enormous wharf rat, jumping from step to step, with a noise precisely like the heavy, dull, footfall we have described. He now easily understood why it had escaped his notice. He had looked too high; and so failed to discover "the gentleman in black," until he had attained an elevation above himself. But he admitted very candidly that, had he not seen the rat at that last moment, his unbelief in ghostly visitations would have been seriously shaken.

Third Story.

      A labourer, on his way homeward about nightfall, when his ear was assailed by repeated groans, which was passing along the outskirts of a little village, seemed to issue out of the very ground beneath his feet. Looking about him, and listening, he presently discovered that they proceeded from an old well, which had been abandoned, and was half filled with rubbish. Approaching the edge of it, he called aloud, but received no answer, except the same groans, which were uttered at intervals, with a hollow reverberation, that appeared to die away in subterranean passages. To see anything below the surface was impossible: and the man set off at once to announce this strange occurrence, and seek assistance from the nearest houses. The alarm spread rapidly; and, in a little while, a busy crowd was collected at the spot with torches, ropes, and other implements, for the purpose of solving the mystery, and releasing the unknown sufferer. A windlass and bucket were hastily procured, and rigged up: and one, more adventurous than his neighbours, volunteered to descend. They let him down about twenty feet, until he reached the bottom, which he declared to be completely covered by a large barrel, upon which he found firm footing. At this time the noise had ceased; and the new comers were disposed to question the truth of what had been told them. But those who had first reached the place stoutly and angrily reasserted the reality of what they had heard. The first explorer had been drawn up almost to the top, when the groans were renewed, to the discomfiture of the sceptics and the dismay of some of the bystanders. Dark hints were conveyed in smothered whispers from one to another. A few were observed to steal out of the circle, and silently move off towards their homes. None showed any particular inclination to repeat the descent in their own persons. But, at last, two or three more resolute than the rest, determined, "at all hazards and to the last extremity," to know what was beneath the barrel. A pair of shears was sent for, such as are used for hoisting heavy packages into warehouses. Another descent was made, and in spite of groans that might have shaken the nerves of Pilgrim himself, the shears were securely hitched on either side of the barrel. Several pair of strong arms were applied to the windlass, but all their efforts proved fruitless for a time. It seemed as if the barrel had been anchored to the rock-fast foundations of the earth. At last, however, it yielded a little; and with a slow, interrupted motion, and a harsh, scraping sound, an empty barrel with no heading was detached from its fastenings, and then brought up rapidly to the top. Once more a daring fellow went down, armed to the teeth, after giving repeated injunctions to his assistants to turn very slowly, and hold on hard. He encountered at the bottom a formidable animal indeed, at least in such a situation. It was no other than a cow, jammed into the lowest part of the well, with her branching horns pointing directly to the sky above. The poor beast, indulging a natural taste, had thrust her head into an empty salt barrel. Her horns had stuck fast in the sides: and retreating blindly, in her efforts to escape she had backed down the dry well, dragging the barrel after her, which fitted so closely to the walls of the pit as to break the force of her fall. With some difficulty the poor creature was extricated from her sad plight, without injury, but probably not without matter for serious rumination.

Fourth Story.

      The subject of the fourth and last story is the only one not derived from parties, personally cognizant of the facts: but this circumstance is fully compensated by the notoriety of the occurrence at the time and place where it happened, as well as the prominent social position of the gentleman concerned in it. He was a lawyer of respectability in Virginia, and was riding alone one summer evening to attend a court. The clouds, which had been threatening for some hours, shot out the expiring gleams of daylight by suddenly folding together their dark and heavy skirts, and began to let fall those great drops of rain which precede a thunder storm. The road was lonely; for it lay chiefly through forest land, and where it skirted a plantation, it was generally at some distance from the mansion. The traveller was thus obliged to keep on his course, long after the increasing violence of the storm had made him long for some shelter, however humble. In vain did he endeavour, by the aid of the lightning that flashed every instant around him, to descry some house: in vain did he hope, in the moments of darkness which intervened, to discover the faint twinkle of light from some log cabin or negro-quarter. Meantime, the elements seemed to lash themselves into greater fury: the lightning blazed incessantly, the thunder crashed into his ears, and the falling limbs of trees contributed to the danger and embarrassment of his situation. His horse became terrified; now he stood still and trembled, resisting every attempt to urge him on: and now obeying a sudden and frantic impulse, he would spring forward with a force that menaced destruction both to his rider and himself. After some miles had been passed in this way — an experience which no man can well appreciate, who has not endured it the traveller was overjoyed to find himself in the neighbourhood of a house. It was one of the old glebe churches, deserted and partly in ruins: but the walls and roof were still sufficiently good to afford some protection, and of this he gladly availed himself. Dismounting at the door, he led in and tied his horse, and took his seat in one of the pews, until the abatement of the storm should allow him to proceed. The place, the hour, the scene, were calculated to excite impressions of awe; and his first feelings of satisfaction naturally gave way to thoughts of a serious and solemn character. Thus occupied, he sat for some minutes, taking advantage of the fitful light, which momently illumined the church, to survey its interior. At last his eyes rest on the pulpit, and he sees — no! it is impossible — yes, he does see a figure all in white, its face pale and ghastly, but its eyes gleaming with the fire of an incarnate fiend! Now it stretches itself upward tall and erect, its long skinny arm pointing to Heaven! Now it leans over the sacred desk, gesticulating and gibbering, with wild and devilish grimaces, that seem to mock those to whom they are addressed, with threats of hellish torture! Is there any one else in the church? Not a soul is visible. There is our lawyer alone, with that strange and fearful preacher — no inattentive observer, we may be sure, of the pantomime, which is but half revealed to him: it is only pantomime, for the roar of the elements drowns every other sound, and no voice falls upon his ear. What are his thoughts? It would be hard to say. Let the man of firmest nerves imagine himself, fatigued and exhausted by such exposure and toil, placed in a situation so unusual, and witnessing a spectacle so terribly like the legends of infernal malice and blasphemy. and let him pronounce, if he can, that his courage and self-possession would be equal to the trial. But to return — for some time the presence of the sole spectator seemed to be unnoticed by the occupant of the pulpit. But at last, during one long, vivid flash, their eyes met, and — oh! the agony of that moment! — he saw that he was discovered! Instantly the figure descended from the pulpit, and approached him with rapid strides. It was all over with his manhood now — he thought of nothing but flight — of taking refuge in that very storm, from which he had but recently escaped. He rushed towards his horse — but the animal had broken bridle, and was gone! Without stopping to look round, our hero gained the road, and set off at full speed; for he heard close behind him the yells and screams of his pursuer! It was a race for life — aye, and for what besides life, he dared not think; but he strained every nerve to outstrip the fiend who held him in chase. Alas! alas! his hour was come! Breathless, alike from exertion and from fear, his foot slipped, and he fell prostrate, while his enemy, with a shriek of triumphant hate, leaped upon him, and fastened her claws into his face and throat! He was incapable of resistance, for he had fainted.

      Fortunately, at this very juncture, a number of other persons came to the rescue, whose approach was quickened by the cries which they had heard. They extricated the insensible man from the hands of the MANIAC, and took measures for his restoration and her security. The unhappy woman had escaped that day from the custody of her friends, and hid herself in the woods. The vicinity of the old church was a favourite haunt of hers, and the storm drove her within its walls. Her disordered mind, excited by the sounds and sights of the tempest, sought a vent for its tumult in imaginary declamation from the pulpit, till the sight of a human face and form gave her feelings another direction. With what motive she first approached the intruder, of course, could never be ascertained; but the confession of weakness, which his flight implied, and the maddening stimulus of the pursuit would have sufficed to change an indifferent, or even a kindly purpose, into one of bitterness and fury. Such is the explanation of this singular and painful adventure: an explanation, however, which, in the impressions left upon the mind, does approximate nearly to the effect of tragic and supernatural fictions.