The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1866-06-21
A STORY OF THE OPEQUAN.
The Chariot with the EeadIess Horses

BY JOHN FESTEN COOKE.
On the right bank of the Opequan-tha
picturesque little stream which, rising abov
Manchester in the valley of Virginia, flow,
between rush clad banks and white-armeC
sycamores to the POtomac-there stands to
day as it stood fifty years ago, an old coun
try house. This house has wide hall. full
of deer antlers pictures of race horses, fish
ing rods, fowling pieces and game bags -
In the large apartments of the mansion, Dor
traits of danes and cavaliers, in lace anc
rutfles, look do@D from the walls Without,
tall oaks stretch their mighty arms against
the caves and sigh around the gables In
front OF the broad portico extends sort Of
chase, dotted over with other oaks 80 huge
and old that they are dying at the top Be
meath the hill flows the Opequan with a low
continuous murmur-a ''river of time" seek.
ing the Potomac, its eternity.
In the thirty years which have rolled
over the head of the present writer since
his childhood-each of which has DESTROYED
some hope, brought to him some grief. or
borne away upon its dusky wings some
dear illusion-many hours have been spent
by him in this good old mansion, and those
hours were among the happiest of his exis.
tenee. The faces the eyes, the lips-dear
eyes smiling lips where are they now =!
They shown and laughed once-to- day they
are dim and cold
Among the advertisements of tie place
and time were ''ghost Stories" Whence
comes that profound interest taken by sc
many persons in tales of dia6Ierie Does il
spring from some inherent weakness of the
human miDd-some craving for theory OF
life more exciting than real [ know not;
but know that many hold to the belief
that there are more things in heaven and
earth than are dreamed of in the philosophy
of every day morals. Above all is this the
conviction of the young-it was the con.
viction, at least, Of him that writes this page
in those long gone years when be reads
with tremor Of the nerves, the wondrous
narratives of lrvng-"Tbe Mysterious Pic
ture," 1.-THE Devil and Tom Walker" anC
all the wonderful repertoire of that prince OF
story tellers.
What was better than reading ghost sto
ries, however. was hearing them. In the
old house on the Opequan he received that
portion Of his education. By the winter fire
or in the summer nights, be listened with
more or less credulity, as his years were
few or many, to those singular narratives
which escape from the lips of the aged il
MIDST of circle of awe-struck listeners: anc
though since that time many real persons
and events have gone into oblivion which
awaits all human things, those narratives
falling upon the impossible mind of youth
struck so deep that they remain rooted If
in bis memory.
One of these tales of 6iableyie is here pre
sented. 1t is not the product of the imagina
tion-a fable teigned for the entertainment O
the reader, but the offspringof memory 1t wa
told me In the house have mentioned-th,
lonely mansion, with its haunted chamber,
its dusky corridors its huge oaks without
whose boughs, as listened brushed agains
the windows or sighed against the gable
with weird and mysterious effect, which
made the audience start at times and hole
their breath
The story was called 1.-THE Chariot witt
the Headless Horses, and was as follows
Early Ill the present century, there came
to s., small village on the Potomac, il
Virginia. young gentleman named Shir.
ley. 1t is not necessary to say that the ap
pearance OF a youthful stranger in any vii
lage OF the known world is an occurrence O
breathless interest to the fraternity of Cos
representatives
where; and young Shirley at once concen
trated upon himself hundred ewes an,
tongues. All that anybody knew of hin
was that he came from Lower Virginia, an
seemed to design remaining at the vilag
for some time, as it was discovered that b
had taken lodgings by the month at the VII
lage tavern. For the rest he was youp
gentleman of about twenty-five, tall, we
dressed, courteous, but grave in his demear
or, and with an aristocratic palIor, whic
his dark eyes and hair rendered still NOR
striking. Three days after his arrival, whe
the fraternity of gossips were almost in
state Of frenzy from his unmanly and il
sulting silence in regard to himself and h
errand, he suddenly terminated all specult
.tion by hiring small office, in front
which soon appeared sign bearing the il
scription, "James Shirley, Attorney 6
Law" -E
In three weeks the gossps had discovere
all about him, and their Disappointment wf
great The unknown stranger" appearin
so suddenly and ''mysteriously" was simpI
young gentleman from Lower Virgins
who had, after the common fashion, lie
home to commence life upon new arena
S. had been selected as that arena, and the
he was-a simple attorney at law, not
royal exile or prince in disguise.
. He soon made friends, though his ma
ners ere criticised as much too grave f
those of a youth. At times, this gravit
amounted to gloom; but an unfailing cou
tesy coneiliated everybody, and, in 8
months, Shirley was what is called 'risir
man. He had appeared with great succe
IN several actions in the colrta and ma
an impression in society. Letters of intr
duction had opened to him the best circl
of S. and the neighborhood; and whenev
he appeared, he was received with smil