Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1871-01-12
Daily Atnutbrr ymrnal.
4 REAL INCIDENT.
BIT GRACE GREENWOOD.

to-do farmer who was magistrate
known far and wide as esquire PercivaIn
his comely wife, two far daughters, a
neice. and last, but not least, a Son, just
home from Yale tor the holidays.
The night without was seasonable cold
and brilliant with moonlight and starlight
The large stone farm house stood on the
brow of a hill behind protecting line of
tall pine trees, the only green in the wide
landscape The steep hillside and the
valley beneath were heavily blanketed
with snow.
The early part Of the evening had pass
ed merrily with games, iests and songs.
But for an hour or two the conversation
had taken drift into the realms of the
supernatural One ghost had succeeded
another till, as the ''witching time of
night approached. and the fire burned
low, the circle instinctively drew closer
together, with thrills and shudders of
strange spiritual dread, which is yet akin
TO the keenest pleasure an, awesome JOY,
an exquisite terror The solemn signing
Of the winds among the trees, heard in the
pauses of ghostly recitals, added its Won
drous, weird effect to the theme.
Just as young Percival had concluded a
wild German legend, which he declared
s. splendid stuff for dreams" the outside
door was heard to open suddenly. All
looked around more or less fearfully, to
see standing on the threshold the slight
form Of fair young woman, clad in white
and looking strangely pure, and cold, and
luminous, like the incarnated moonlight.
With the glide of spirit she came for
ward. Her feet were quite bare and her
arms were dropping YEARLY. Masses of
fair hair fell over her shoulders, but her
eyes were dark and fixed with melan-
choly stare. His lips slightly parted and
almost colorless. She came into the cir
Gle about the hearth, and there paused,
standing utterly motionless--a beautiful,
appalling figure.
For moment all the startled group re-
manned as silent as that strange visitor.
Then the young girl caught her breath in
q historical scream, which was instantly
answered by cry from the lips of ''the
woman in white" into whose blank eyes
rushed wild. keen light. She gazed
about her in terror and bewilderment,
then glanced down upon herself, and
sank covering upon the floor, covering
her face with her hands, and giving way
TO childish paroxysms ofweeping.
The farmers wife. woman of rare
sense and presence Of mind. at once d.
yined the truth.
.She is sleep-walker,' she said "She
must be half dead with the cold. Girls,
bring some wrapplngs."
Immediately all was hustle The far
mer and his son discreetly vanished from
the scene. and the kind mother, daughter
and neice devoted themselves to their be-
wildered charge, who still wept and Sob
bed under their kind ministrations, but
declared that she felt 70 cold and no pain,
though her delicate feet were actually
bleeding from her long walk up the icy
hillside and over the crushed snow.
After having been tenderly put to bed,
however, she became sufficiently COM
posed to reply to the questions which had
been put to her. She said that she was
Lucy Elicit, the neice OF the village ply
sician; that she had lately been taken
from school on account of nervousness,
and sent to him for medical treatment,
but that Inconsistencies and loneliness had
made her worse.
She had occasionally walked in her
sleep before but only about the house
at home, and on summer moonlight
nights. Il think the moon bewitched me
she said," smiling through her tears.
That night she had before going to bed,
looked across the little valley to the pleas
ant home on the hill, watching the cheer
full Christmas lights cleaning through the
pine trees, and longed to be one of the
happy party there, though she was stran-
ger to all.
She had cried herself to sleep, she said,
and that was all she knew other mysteri-
Gus tramp over snow and stones and ice.
Not memory, not a thought, could she
recall till the moment when she found
herself standing on the hearth in her
night dress, with many wondering eyes
fixed upon her.
...Oh. dear, what do you think of me
What can you think Of me now ?" she
moaned.
Never mind what we think of you my
poor child" said the motherly Mrs. Per-
cival, 1--WE love you already. SO drink this
nice ginger tea -
The poor child got a little natural sleep,
and in the morning appeared more
ghostly than the apparitions of Christmas
night. but she was very pale, with a play
full, shy, grieyed look. She was suffer-
ing less from exposure than was expected,
but more from the nervous shock of the
night before, and, by the advice of her I'M
Gle, who had been summoned, consented
to remain with her new friends for few
days.
Young John Pcrcival was Hospitality
kind to the invalid guest, not seeming to
perceive that she shrank from his atten-
lion In sensitive. disquieted way. Yet
when his eye was not on her. she was OBJ
served to study his face with a peculiar in
quiring expression. She could not re-
member having seen that face at the fear
full moment of her awakening, and she
hoped he had not been witness of that
walking trance, and she regarded il with
absolute horror
Finally, on the last day OF her visit, find
ind herself alone with him Tor moment,
under desperate impulse. she asked,
DID you, too, see Inc that night. Mr..
Percival?'
He was touched by the tremble in her
voice and the wistiul look in the dark
eyes, but he answered honestly: II can
not deny that did see you"
- Oh, sir, what must you have thought"
Thought. Why thought if ghosts
would always come in such shape, never