The New Orleans crescent. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1866-1869, 1869-01-31
Written for the N. o Sunday Cre.ccntl
THE DEsEBTED HOUSE.
A TRUE TALE FROM A FAMILY RECORD.

II is now some forty years since my grandfather,
Virginia gentleman of the old school, having lost
the larger part of his fortune through his mis-.
taken trust in the honor of others, concluded to
gather the remnants and emigrate to the West,
rather than remain among his old friends and
neighbors In reduced circumstances. In those
days steamboats, railroads, etc., were not quite so
common now, and it customary when q
large family moved so long distance to do so,
as far as possible, with their own conveyances I;
snd while the male portion of the family madethe
journey on horseback, the females occupied the
old fashioned family carriage, and the servants
brought up the rear with the wagons and teams
carrying the baggage, furniture and household
gear, such as could not be obtained in ths now
country, and were often cherished mementoes Of
the loved and lost
Ny mother had vivid recollection of this fit.
ting to a new home, and it was a favorte reward
of merit with children to gather round her at even
tide and hear her relate her "reminiscences of that
long, fatiguing yet pleasant, exciting trip. She
then about sixteen years old-too young to look
back with longing on her lost home in the Old Do
minon, and not too old to look with buoysnt,
| hopeful fsncies upon her new home in the West,
| and weave thousand fantasies about it, many of
| which were realized. One incident from among
the many che told us | will now relate to you, and
| give it as nearly as possible in her own words.
1t was at the close Of a long, hot day in August
when the low muttering of thunder in the distance
and the lurid flashes OF lightning betokened a
| heavy thunder storm, that we sought for place
ofshelter for the night instead of camping out as
| we often did. We all felt more than usually
fatgued and travel worn, and were not sorry to
see at q distance g dwelling house embowered iu
trees. 1t was some five or six hundred yards off
| from the road. and broad lane densely shaded
| by forest trees, led up to it. The broken fences
| and uncultvated grounds gave an air of desoa.
ton TO the place that made 1t doubtful about the
comfort that people living so could afford IA. But
| any port in storm, applied to well TO the
wsve-t tossed mariner, aud we knew we cOnd make
| ourselves comfortable from the stores in the
| wagons, could we get shelter from the storm.
| Father and brother James rode on 1t once to the
| house TO see il we could remain over night. They
| were scarcely there before we saw them waving
TO us to come on and with fervent ejaculation of
| thanks, mother bade the driver turn up the lane.
Brother James came back at once to meet u.s.
| and said II is an empty house, no one living on
the place but il is large and weather proof, and
if the storm breaks will afford us every protection
| for man and beast. Il was double house, wide
| hall running through it, with three rooms each
side. and with gallery front aud rear. The kitchen
| and out houses were at little distance. The place
evidently had not been occupied for some time.
| The garden fence was down 10 whole PANELS.
The fruit trees were unpruned, but many of them
PIES etc. The hoors in the house were thick with
dust, and the walls draped with cobwebs; bat
amid all the gloom and desolaton. We could see
| that il had once been the home mansion OF
wealthy people. There were 10 some of the rooms
up stairs pieces of furniture of rich and massive
form. The exquisite carvings of the mantle pieces,
| and the osken doors and balustTade Of the stairs
| betokened wesltby owners.
The servants gathered wood and made small
fires in all the rooms on the side of the house Sc.
lected for our use, and soon things looked cheer
4 II.
nurse, made haste to give Us a cup of tea, while
she gave directions TO Aunt Sae about nice
supper, now we had Christian house once
more, not dem hethen wagons and tents,' and she
was not idle herself the while.
Father said to mother, Well. Hilda, what do
you think OF staying couple Of days here, and
resting from the fstiguey IL Will be OF benefit to
you and the children, and will be OF service to the
horses, teams and servants"
"Just as YOU see best John y she replied: "and
to tell the truth shall be thankful for little rest"
So it was settled. Father and the boys horried
out and helped the servants unpack the carriage
and bring in all the things from the wagons that
| were needed TO make the rooms comfortable.
Some of the negroes went to collect frewOod for
the night and the kitchen fire, others fed the
horses and cattle, and the children wandered over
tho house and gardens, eating fruit looking at the
remains of the once pretty gardens and drinking
| cool water from old spring that bnbbled at
the foot Of the little knoll on which the house
stood, and was choked up with wild mint and
1
10 be passing off in the distance, without reaching
| u.s. and after supper, gotten up In Old Maumy's
| best style, we were all assembled to evening wer-
ship, and then the servants made the wagon and
: teams all safe for the night unloosed the blood
hounds that we're closely chained to the wagons
| during the day, and then resorted TO the kitchen
to hang over the fire, and laugh and chat away
half the night. In the house we were all soon
quiet in sleep, for fatigue made rest and slumber
pleasant, and it was go nice once more to sleep
under roof
1t was about IL O'Clock when we were awak-
ened by a singular noise as though carriages
I were rolling up TO the house in haste. We heard
horses neigh and snort as though stopping after
rapid drive noise az of persons running up
| the steps on TO the gallery; and In moment
the house was flooded with light that was not
: of lamp or candle, but played in vivid fckers
over the walls and ceilings. We heard the sound
| Of music, violin and horn, the sound of dancers
feet on the floor. loud laughter; and yet with all
| there was nothing TO be seen. The bOod-hounds
| ran whimperlng IN TO though seeking pro-
lection from what they saw out OF doors.
Father and the boys searched the rooms TO find
| any tangible cause for the noise without avail,
| and when they reached the kitchen they found
: the negroes sbrieking and groaniug from fright
and they chung around father and begged him,
. "for Gods sake. git away from this haunted
. place. marster; it's haunted, and we'll some
thin IL we stay heah" "0h, master, amt mistriss
and de chideu skeart to death?" said Aunt
Saie-even in the midst Of her fright thinking Of
| US the faithful soul
| Out hoIees ndu DIOHen 1heh osHSin' ouu hou
sought refuge In old barn at distance from
the house. and whickered and whinned When
father and Unce Jake went out TO them, as though
cbeefed to see or hear friends. After seeking 10
. vain for a reason for the strange sounds, fathei
and brother James returned to rs, followed by
: every one of the servants, who said they couldn't
stay out there"
The racket in the house increased IL possible
! We could hear the changes of the figures in the
T | dance called out by a sharp metallic voice. the
rapid beat Of the dancers feet, the clinking OF
3 glass the gurgling sound of liquor as it pOur'
= from the mouths of bottles; could fee the whir
: | of air as the dancers seemed TO wheel round in
I the dance and above it ali came the heavy boon
!, OF Heavens artillery. The storm so long threat
Q enng bad fallen upon at last, 70 add TO the
terror of the scene. and the flashes of lightning
= The loud reports OF the thunder, mingled with
the Deghing OF goblin horses and peals Of Satanic
laughter that rang through the house. aad the no
e earthly music, made din fdghful beyond my
a power OF description and paralJzed not only q;