Kenosha tribune and telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1855-1855, 1855-05-17
KEN0SHA, WIS, THURSDAY, MAY II, 1855.
From Home Life Peep across the Threshold
THE HAUNTED HEARTH STONE.
"All houses wherein men have lived and died
are haunted houses


GAN houses wherein men have lived and died
are haunted houses"
do l believe in haunted houses?' sait
the aged woman, speaking rather to hersel
than to the fair, sweet grand-child, who mes
tied at her feet, and looked up so earnestl.
into the wrinkled face. Yes, indeed do
There is not house in this whole village
| nor for miles around but that tome is haun
tcd-none, though, SO much as this. Haun
ted,' said she, speaking SO slowly that {
solemn emphasis seemed to rest on eacl
letter, yes, yes, there arc such things a.
haunted spots And then she dropped hel
knitting, took off her glassesSwiped hel
eyes, and leaning back in her arm chair
seemed lost in sad yet holy communion
with the early passages Of life.
1t was dark, stormy winter night. The
wind howled fercely round the old farm
house, drifting the snow high on the win
dow stills fastening it to the rough panels o.
the doors, shifting it through The crevices
of the roof, and heaping it up like giants
graves all along the pathway Throughout,
the garden. But indoors all was bright and
of summers warmth. The huge back
log had been dragged in ere twilight, and
was now slowly dropping into Goals, while
the flames from the lighter wood, which
every few minutes was cast on with SO free
hand, blazed high and ruddy, and cast a
genial light and glare IN the darkest corner,
and scintlllated on the time darkened CELL
ing like the polar flashes on the midnight
sky.
I 1t was one of those bitter nights that
make the hearth stone the bonniest spot on
all the earth, a night when the sheltered
lift up their hearts in thankfulness, when
the homeless bow in supplica:ion "a night
when the children kneel before the fire and
read bright prophecies in the living Goals;
when the aged draw their chairs yet near
or to the blaze and warm their shattered
memories; night when all turn their backs
to the darkness, and faces to the light.
1t was night to make ghost stories rel
ish well-'do, grandmother, tell one.'
The head of the young girl rested on the
knees of the old lady, and, as the latter lost
the thread of her dream and looked down,
she could see an enthusiastic eagerness pic
tured in the bright, blue eye, as longing for
some tale of romance, that dropping in her
heart, should vivify its dormant passions.
She hestated few moments, ana then ten
derby carressing the one love pet TO her bo-
som, she said,
Il will tell you story about haunted
hearth stone, and Lizzie, 1t will be no tale
of fiction. The plo: is drawn from living
memories, the scene is laid-here-here.
But her tremulous voice now quivered with
added notes, and after moments stern,
but useless effort at self control. it burst
into sobs so loud and wild that they rivalled
the cries of the winter wind.
The young girl seemed not much fright
ened, and spake no soothing words, but on
ly grasped the hand she had taken when
she asked the story, with a tighter grasp.
The paroxysm did not continue long, butas
it passed away, she rose and turning her
trembling step towards the dark, cold bed
room, and going in, closed the door and was
absent long time. The tears streamcd
down Lizzie's checks when left alone, and
| it was evident that the aged relative had
some secret sorrow, over which she mourn
/ ed intensely. When she returned, and
again seated herself in her usual chair, on
drawing it little closer to the fire. there
was such calm, beautiful spiritual look
expressed upon her countenance that You
could not but fancy she had conversed with
the angels. Without any allusion to the
past, without any preface, she began after
the silence of perhaps, half an hour, the
promised story. Handed down to me il
reads like this.
1t was a night much like this; forty years
or more have passed since its winds blew
and its snow drifted, since its cold palsied
and its darkness frightened. Beside the
same hearth stone-!he same only that il
was not wore so smooth, for then the house
had but tested thirty instead of as now sew
enty and odd winters-an aged man and
his wife sat before the blazing fire, striving
to while away the long evening hours
There was not then as now daily mails COM
ing into our little village, freighted with
news in every shape. The press, did not
TEEN as now, with magazines and books.
1t was rare to see newspaper in this old
kitchen, and rarer any volume save THE
ONE. The old man had studied that some
time and replaced 1.-THE Bible did not
then as now grow dusty, while other books
were thumbed TO peiees. He had eaten
his apples, drunk his cider, and cracked
some walnuts for his wife, whose teeth were
sounder than his own-and now sat close
as he could draw himself to the flames with
out scorching his homespun garments, nod
ding goodbye to the sky bound sparks
The old lady had rolled up her knitting and
with her broken fork-in these days they
had not heard of -picks-with her two
tined fork, which had lost one of its mem,
bers, sat digging out with patince worthy
of the gold mines of these times--the rich
sweet kernels.
Suddenly she dropped both fork and nut'
and in another instant started to her feet
her pan falling from her lap and threaten,
ing many grease spot on the well scrub
bed floor.
Fastening to her husband she shook hi
shoulders, saying,
Wake up quick and listen
Hal(-frig htened he jumped, and came
near setting his stockirged feet upon living