Litchfield enquirer., 1855-03-08
Every Description of
 Jo B.P R I " 2 N G,
Nisce'Iaqy.
THE HAUNTED HEARTH STONE.

THE HAUNTED HEARTH STONE.
 "Do believe in haunted houses !" said the aged woman, speaking rather to herself led at her feet and looked up so earnestly in. to the wrinkled face. !" Yes, indeed do. There's not house in this whole village, nor for miles arouad, but that to me is haunt ed, none, though, so mucl, as this.' ''Haunt- ed," continued she, speaking so slowly that solemn emphasis seealcd to rest on each letter, "yes, yes, there are such things as haunted spots." And then she dropped her knitting, took of her glasses, and wiped her eye-leaning back in her armchair seemed lost in sad yet holy communion with the earlier passages of life.
 It was dark. stormy, wiater's night The wind howled fercely aronnd the old farm house, drifting the snow high on the window sils, fastening it to ths rough pam els of the door. sifiing it throrgh she crevi- ces of the messy roof, and heaWng il up like giants graves all along the pathways thro'- out the garden. But in doors all was bright and of summer warmth. The huge back loy had been dragged in ere twilight, and was now slowly dropping into coals; while the flames from the lighted wood which ev- cry few minutes was cast on with 20 free a hand, bazei high and ruddy, and cast a genial light and glare in the darkest corner, and scinlllating on the time -dzrkened cei!. ing like flashes on the midnight sky.
 It was one of those bitter nights tha, make the hearti,-stone the bonnest spot on al! the earth,--a night when the sheltered lift up their heart. in thanksgiving, when the homeless bow in supplica,ion nigh, when children kneel before the fire and read brigh, prophecies in the living coals; when the aged draw their chairs yet nearer to the blaze and warm their shivering memories {; a night when all turn their backs to the darkness, their face to the light.
 "lt is 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 tho thread of her dream and looked down, she could see an enthusiastic eagerness pie tured in the bright blue eye. longing for some tale of romance, that dropping into her heart, should vivify it's dormant passions. She hesitated few moments, and then ,en- derly caressing the one lone pc, of her bo- som, she said: .'I will tell you a story about a haunted hearth stone; and Lizzie, 1t will be no tale of fiction. The plot is drawn from living memories, the scene is laid-here, here." But her tremulous voice now quivered with added notes, and after a moments stern, but useless effort at eel. con. trol, 1t burst into sobs so loud and wild that they rivalled the cries of the winter wind.
 The young girl seemed not much fright ened, aud srake no soothing words, but only clasped tho hand she had taken as she ask ed the story, with tighter grasp. The paroxysm did not continue long, but, as i, passed away, she rose, and turning her trembling steps toward the dark, cold bed- room, and going in, closed tho door, and was absent a long while. The tears stream cd down Lizzie's cheeks when left alone, and it was evident tha, the aged relative had some secret sorrow, over which she mourned intensely. When she returned and again seated herself in her usual chair, only draw. ing 1t a little closer to the fire, there was such calm, beautiful, spiritual look ex. pressed 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, aftel silence of perhaps half an hour, the prom. issd story. Handed down to me, it read. like this:
 It was night much like this forty ol more have passed since its winds blew and its snow drifted, aimee its cold palsed and it's darkness frightened Beside the same hearthstone-the same only that it was no, worn so smooth, for the house then had test cd but thirty instead of as now seventy and odd win,ers-an aged man and his wife sal before the blazing fire, striving to while away the long evening hours. There wa. not then, as now. daily mails coming in,s our remote little village freight-d with new. in every shape. The press did not teem as now, with magazines and books; i. wat rare to See newspaper in this old kitchen and rarer any volume, save THE ONE. Th' dld man had studied that some time, am tArefally replaced is--the Bible did not lheI 8s now. grow dusty while other books wer &thumhed to pieces. He had eaten his ap pies, drunk his cider and cracked some wal nuts for his wife, whose teeth were sounde than his own; and now sat closc as he coul, draw himselfto the flames without scorch ing his homespun garments, nod,ling goos hys 10 the sky -bsund sparks. The old tad, had rolled up her knitting. and with her bro kAn Envk-in kh<.aa 1ava fknv h ~1 nns knn n