Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1855-10-24
GHOST-STORIES.


Don't, for love of Heaven, tell ghost
stories to children! 1t may serve to
keep the little ones quiet an hour or
two, but its baleful effects will linger
with them for years, and perhaps be the
means of " quieting" them forever in an
early grave.
There seems to US to be fascination
about ghost-stories, wierd and unaccoun-
table, like that with which the serpent
charms its victim it binds listener
with spell, painful to his senses, but so
potent, that he cannot break away.
We can never help shuddering when
we see group of children gathered
around some careless nurse, or too indul-
gent grandmother, and listening, as if
life depended on their hearing every
word, TO horrid stories about restless spir-
its that leave the repose of the grave, to
go on earthly missions of love or revenge,
as the case may be. All the ghostly
particulars are dwelt upon, till the faces
so rosy an hour before, are deadly pale ;
bright eyes are set in fixed stare of awe
and terror, and white lips are half part
ed in the wild eagernesS to learn more
But-the influence of that recital-who
can estimate it The child's mind is ex-
ceedingly plastic it receives impressions
with wonderful facility and those strange,
startling incidents will stamp themselves
deeply there. You may think they will
soon be effaced, but you mistake they
will linger longer than you suppose, and
in future years you may see their bitter
harvest ripen.
We have not yet forgotten how our
own blood used to chill in our veins at
hearing such stories. The detaiIs-were
so frightfully real, that we could not
readily throw off the impression they pro-
duced. Mysterious voices seemed to
whisper through every trembling leaf /;
demon faces lurked in every corner and
made even our dreams hideous. Wedar-
ed not turn our head. when passing
through lonely room at night, and
would not have gone out to the watering
place by the old willow, scarcely stones
throw from the house for a handful Of
gold.
How wildly one incident of this kind
comes up before US, as we write We
were spending winters night at a
neighbor's with beloved school COM
paniOn; now, alas in her grave. Her
mother, widow. was absent, but a
house'keeper, whom she thought she
could trust, was left to take care of the
children. A gentleman, friend of the
family, called in the early part of the
evening to see that we were safe, and at
our united solicitations spent several
hours with US. AT length the conversa-
ton struck storytelling vein; the
house-keeper had quite fund of such
tales in her memory, and the visitor had
travelled considerably and had many
stirring adventures to relate.
We children-three in number-sat
listening, all eye and ear, swallowing
every one greedily and growing more and
more frightened with every passing mo-
ment. How our whole frame thrilled J
What fearful visions fancy began 10 con-
jure up What benumbing sense of
terror locked our senses A particular
ly horrid story had nearly reached its eli
max, when it was abruptly broken off
by one little girl sinking back in her
chair. 1t was ourself; we knew moth
ing more till we awoke to consciousness
on our bed, and saw the house keeper
and our child-friends bending over us
with the deepest solicitude.
Storytelling was henceforth abjured
by that freside, when We were there,
but the effect of those and others heard
in youth, is not quite gone.
We have no relish for such things now;
the wild, mystic legends Of Germany
are not pleasant to US +; we turn in dis
gust from the mysteries Of Udclpho :"
and the mournful monotone of Poe's RI
ven, and his gloomy pictures, which un-
like Rembrandt's have no light to relieve
their strong shadows, fall heavily on oul !
soul. To the latest day of life, we be-
lieve we shall retain in some measure,
the effect of those ghost-stories.-- OliUe
Branch.
N ,rrpr m ataS uS' moor OOlv W hen we |