The state rights democrat. [volume] (Albany, Linn County, Oregon) 1865-1900, 1871-03-24
IMY "FlRsT CLASS" GHOST STORY

paftment III u Hrst-ciaSS r0lIWuy car
riage at London Bridge railway sta
ton on the oath of DECEMBER. The
weather was horribly cold and the
wind was very high. I had my even
ing paper already out by my side, and
my BradshaU was in my hand; but
they were at present both unheeded,
for my thoughts were far away down
the line-forty miles down to Nettle-
ton, where l was going to spend my
Christmas holidays with my uncle,
Arthur Blucher, few cousins, and
Bessie Noland. When say that my
uncle and cousins were second and
third in my thoughts, need hardly
say that Bessie was my sweetheart
rather an old fashioned word, but l
like 10 o.use it. ! had won her after n
courtship of twelve months; and l
thought myself the happiest of young
fellows and the happiest OF mankind.
l will not attempt to describe my Bes-
sic. for that can only be done by pho
Biography. She was very pretty, very
sensible, and beloved by everybody,
and adored by me. Ihnd parted with
her in the autumn; and although every
week brought me kind, gentle letter
from her, we had not met since saying
goodbye at the yarmouth station,
North Wales, when she went TO stop
at Nettleton, and returned to grim
old law ut my chambers, New Inn,
Lincoln's Inn. How slowly the time
dragged on, to be surel There never
could have been q windier or more
cheerless October than in that year,
nor duller or darker November. I
could find no charm in the London
theaters in spite of the novelties pro-
duced. The newspapers were stupid
and the magazines barely readable.
My friends, too, somehow or other,
became wearisome. Johnson's puns
fell fiat, Robinson's practical jokes
lost their charms, and Smiths and
Jones's parties bored me. l wanted
Christmas to come as quickly as possi-
BILE, and yet Old Time would not get
on any quicker in spite of my fretting.
But at last the day arrived for my de-
parture. ] had packed my portman-
teau two days before it was necessary.
/ had studied my route till / knew the
stations by heart, and l found myself
Mt London Bridge station n good half
hour before the train was advertised TO
start. Immediately after my" train Il
had known this 5 :55 for SO many weeks
that looked upon it in the light of
personal property backed into its po-
sition / insisted on taking my seat,
although the guard assured me that
we shouldn't be off for n quarter of
an hour, If then. Never mind; l felt
happier and less restless in my car
riage, knowing that it was something
connected with Nettleton
and my visit. Our train, according to
the time tables, did not stop any
where after leaving Croydon, but ran
straight into Nettleton junction-ig-
noring Reigate, Little Houghton and
Rushley. So, giving shilling TO the
guard, / requested him to lock the
door, and l was left to my cigar, my
evening paper, my Bradstar. and my
Bessie.
The station was thronged with holi-
day-makers of all grades of society.
pushing, squeezing, laughing, shout
ing, but all bent on one object-to get
good places in their various trains.
Poor guards, how l pitied them! aud
how l admired their coolness and
clearheadedness in the midst OF such
a Babel of tongues! Should we never
start, / asked myself as / leaned out
of the window for the twentieth time.
Yes, surely those are "our" doors be-
ing slammed to; that is our guard
whisiling and holding up his hand;
and that brisk, determined whistle be-
longs to our engine. AS we slowly
glided out of the station was some
what surprised to see q tall, lank,
white-faced gentleman walk up to my
carriage door-which had paid the
guard to lock-oI en- it, step in, and
take his seat opposite me. He was q
most peculiar looking individual. His
face was very long, and painfully
white; his eye was bright and restless;
his hands, incased in black kid gloves,
had the appearance of possessing q
good deal of bone; his legs were awk-
wardly long; and to add to his eccen-
tricity, his head was quite bald, and
shone like a plain white billiard ball.
On entering the carriage he bowed to
me, and, after carefully gazing round
him, smiled-such smile!-and tax
ing out black-covered book, coiled
himself up in corner and buried
himsels in its contents. This strange
being puzzled me considerably. What
could he be? Perhaps a doctor. No
his appearance would terrify any
nervous patient. A lawyer possibly
an escaped lunatic more probably. ]
determined to speak to him; for,
though I was not q coward, I did not
like the man; for now and then he
would put down his book, gaze on the
lamp above him, and laugh quietly;
then fixing his eyes on me for Sec
ond, would relapse into smile, and
continue his reading. "Do you OBJ
ject to smoking?" 7 asked-I own
with an effort. He took no notice OF
me. I repeated the question; but, in
lieu of replying, he twisted himself
into an easier position, and went on
with the black-bound book.
II shall not be at oil sorry when we
get to Nettleton," thought to myself,
as ] threw my cigar away and took up
q paper; II don't relish this superhu-
man fellow-passepger at all. Well,
as there's no chance OF relief for the
next two hours, I may as we'll make
the best OF it," ] tried to read, but
H.. Il L.. L