Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1867-05-03
The Pine Tree House.
AN ADVENTURE IN THE WEST.
RY CLARA AUGUSTA.

1t was a cold, wet night; and
hurried my horse along the disma
country road, anxious to reach place
of shelter before the threatened storm
should begin in earnest. Three mile;
back L had passed the last house; the
next would be "The Pine-tree House,
an old forest Inn, where ! was to pass
the night.
That was ten years ago, and of
course | was younger than | am now
and the prospect of spending the nigh
in a questionable locality, had all the
charm for me which anything partak
ing Of the romantic, has for the mind
of youth. | was engaged as travelling
agent for a mining company-payine
dividends, collecting dues, and extend
ing the business of the corporation
generally. | always had more or les;
money in my possession; but wen
we'll armed, and in those days fatter
! cd myself that at least was not 3
coward. This was in the far West
where villages are scattering, and hu
man habitatious the exception rather
than the rule All day long | had
( Travelled through the excessive mud
over the abominabIe roads Of that sec
ton, for the most part through impene
trabie forests, broken only at inter
walls by the rude huts Of the adventu
Gus settlers.
The Pine-tree House was respecCa
bic enough, | had been told at the last
clearing, in reply to my inquiries
but it was a tumbIe-down affair, and
was said to be haunted.
\ haunted house! The very place
had been hoping for all my life.
was delighted with the prospect of
/ passing q night with the ghosts: and
as | rode along through the gloom
amused myself with recalling all the
weird stories | had heard of lonely
travellers murdered at wayside Inns
of trap doors leading to cavernou.
unknown depths, Of sliding panneI.
and treacherous Iandlords,-whcn ms
employment was interrupted by the
gIeam of a bright LIGHT through the
place Il few rods ahead of me. | was
near the Inn. My weary horse prickod
up his ears. and uttered a whinnv Of
delight, animated by the prospect OF
food and shelter. The light shonc
from a square uncurtaiued window
and showed me | was riding up to thg
door Of a large. low, singularIy built
house, singularly lacking in windows
and guiltle5 OF paint or shingles
Before the door grew an immense pine
tree, aud from its lowest limb swung
with q dismal creak the proverbiaI
weather beaten SIGN, impressing the
public that here was to be found en-
/ tertainment for maa and beast.
The door unclosed as the tramp oI
my horse announced my coming; and
a burly, coarseteatured man appear
cd. He removed the stump of a pipe
from his mouth, and addressed me in
q mot unciyil tone Of voice.
"Ruther a drearv evening stranger
"Decidedly,' returned, getting off
the saddle. Take good care of my
horse, nv friend, and let me have
something hot for supper. | have
travelled far and have q sharp appe
tite."
He pointed to the house with a Jerk
Of his thumb
go in thar; the old woman vii
attend to you.
Accepting the invitation, | entered
what answered for parlor and kitchen
A large unfurnished room; the raft
crs bare. and strung over with drier
pumpkin, dried apples, herbs, red pep
pers, to say nothing of dust and spi
der's webs. A huge fireplace extend
ed the whole length of the apartment
/ in which burned gloriously a pile OF
LOGS, the light making red and cheer
ful the remotest corner. In rickety
armchair before the fire. sat the land
lady,-a thin faced, middle aged wo
man, with black eyos and light aaxeI
hair. I know that poets rave abou
the charm attending women who's,
hair and eyes are thus contrasted
but for some reason, it is a charm
which always repels me. / feel as il
nature had made mistake, and pm
her work together unskiIlfully.
| looked round for a cat; a search
| inevitably make when | 90 into
strange house, for | have a sort OF
faith in the house which shelters a cat
No household can be exactly as
should be without one of these fou
footed appendages. But here ther
was none. There was no cosy corne
nor convenient basket where on