Litchfield enquirer., 1865-01-26
Mlisfrlla,,l).
From pickehs' Christmas Stories i A LoDGER RELATES HIS OWN GHOST
 STORY. .'

The circumstances am about to relate tt you have truth in rtcnrntnend them They happened to myself. and mv recollection o them is as vivid as if they had taken place only yesterday. Twenty years. however, have gone by since that aight. During those twenty years have told the story to biit one other person. l tell it now with reluctance which find it difficult to overcome. All entreat. meanwhile is that you will abstain from forcing, your own conclusions upon me- want nothing explained away. desire ho arguments. My mind on this subject Is quite made up and having tie testimony of my own senses rely upon prefer to ahids by It. within day or two of the end of the grouse and had no sport to speak of. The wind was due east; the month December the place a bleak wild moor in the north of EngIahd ;- and had loat my way. It was not pleasant place in which to lose ones why. with the first feathery flakes of coming snow -stdrth just huttering down upon the heather. and the leaden evening closing in all around. shaded my eyes with my hand. and stared arxi,nsly into the gathering darkness. where the purple m0arlnnd melted into a range uf low hills 
 faintpst smoka-wreath. not the tiniest cult- vated patch or feuce or sbeep-track met my eyes in any direction. There WIS nothing for it bat to walk on. and take my chance of fnd ing what shelt,r could by the way. So I shoul,iered my gun again, and pushel wearily forward; for had been on foot since an hour after daybreak, and had eaten nothing since breakfast.
 Meanwhile, the snow began to come down with ominous strudiuess, and the wind te;l.- After this. the cold becau,e more intense, and the night came rapidly on. As fur me. my prospects darkened with the darkening sky and my heart grew heavy as l thought bow my young wifi. was already watching for me through the window of our little i'm p,rlor, and thought of all the sutfrring in store for he, tbromg bout this weary night. We had beer married four months. and having spent 0ul autumn tn the Highlands. were now lodging in remote title village situated just on the verge of the great English nuoflands Vt were very much in love. and. ot cnurse. yer, happy. This morning. when we parted sh, had implnred me to return before dark. anc I 1 had prom sed her that l would Wha would not have given to have kept my w,ri Even now. weary as was. felt that witt a suppar. an hours rest, and n guide. migh still get buck to her befure midnight. if only guide and shelter could be found.
 1 Aud al! this time the snow fel. and the nigh thickeiied. stopped and shouted every nov and then. but my shouts seemed only ,n ,nak, the silence deeper. Then vague sensa o unensiness ca ae upon ,ns. and began to re mpmher stories of travel rs who had wake, oh and on in the falling snuw until. wearie, out, they would fain lie down and sleep ,h-i lives away. Would it possible. asked my self. to keep on thus through all the long durl night! Would there not come time whe, 1 thy limbs must fail and my resolution giv, way? When too must sleep the sleep death. Death? shudlered How hard {, die just now. when lie lay aIl So bright befor loving heart--&-ba that thought was not {, lcuser ahd luuger. ahd then listened eagerly Was my shou. answered. or d'd l only fanc that b, aud a r if cry? hallo.,ed agai and again the echo followed. Then waverin speek of light ca,he suddenly but Of the darl shifting. d,sal leaiing. growing mementsrii
 nearer aud hrighter. Running towards it a
 ful, speed l .aad myself. td my rt ut joy. fac
 to lace with an old llan and a lantern.
 | """~ oVo: WdS tue eXcIdmdtlO0 tl2 burst involunto. ly from my lips.
 Blinking and drowning, he lifted his lapter and pe.red into my iace
 'What for? growled he, sulkilv. ;"
 .Nell-for yoa began to fear shou,
 be lo+t in the snow.' 'N' sl .Eh. then, folks do get cast away her
 abouts, fra time to iima. an what's to hind,
 you from hein' cast away likewise, If the Lo !. be 60 minded 2
 1.-the Ford is % minded that you and
 shall be lost together, friend. we nust subhti
 l rerlied but don't diean tu be lost vii
 out you. How tai am now from Uw0ldins "A gide twenty mile, more or less And the nearest village r
 !, The nearest village is Wyke, an tha '' twelve miles t'other side.'
 sWhere % you liva then r
 'Out yonder.' said he, with vague jerk 1.-the lahterh. 3 '..,
 You're going home, presume q
 May be l am .4s
 Then I'm going with you.'
 <. The old man shook h head, and rubbed nose re6ectively with the handle of the l: n. tern.i s.s ;. # It ainto' no uss.' syowlet b, st Hs X q llst yot i1Sset bassiiIs hgs r-9E,-s st, e :