Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1872-05-09
For the Republican.
THE RED BRIDGE.
A Story of the Juniata.
RY LOUISE c. N.

LOUISE c. ID.
Some years ago found my home In large and
beautiful town, nestled down in cne of the ovelest
green valleys of Western Pennsylvania. During my
sojourn there heard frequent alluson made to the
Haunted Bridge" So often was tupon the lips of
every one that my curiosity was excited, and I
longed to visit the spot, and satsfy myself of its
truth or falsity. The sturdiest-hearted farmer
would go miles out of his way, rather than pass un-
der its dread roof. The facts cleaned will give
you.
A few years before, young and lovely maiden
was murdered in this bridge. We will call her Ma
ry. She was the daughter of wealthy farmer,
family OF education and refinement. 1t was Marys
usual custom to ride over to the nearest town sew
eral times during the week, for the purpose of trans
acting business for her father an invalid and also
to receive all postal matter One bright summer
morning, while the sun smiled down ON fair Mary,
the farmers lad saddled her pet pony, "Beauty,"
and its fair young mistress rode away. Her last
words as she cantered down the carriage way from
her fathers door, were ''Good bye, mother dear
Look for me back ere the clock strikes o~e" But
hours passed, and she did not return A terrible
terror fell upon the hearts of her parents, which
grew more intense, as she came not. The darkness
OF night settled down upon them and yet no tdings
OF Mary. Then the farm help were summoned to-
gether and the farmers great dinner bell sent out
peal after peal calling their neighbors to search for
the missing daughter. For hours they searched,
and no clue, when some one suggested she might
have gone to the Red Bridge, which covered a
branch of the blue Juniata, and was a road but lit
tie used, lying off the main route. They wended
Their way thither their lanterns gttering out in the
night-for the stars refused to shine, but draped
themselves in mourning over the fearful tragedy.
1t was enough to make the strongest heart quail
enough to cause them to cry out in anguish, for
half way under that long bridge lay poor Mary
with bullet through her heart. Her golden hair
lay dappling in the crimson tide. While even yet
fingered in her blue eyes look of horror and ter
ror. The tiny white hands were bruised and crush
ed. No other marks of violence could be seen. At
the other end of the bridge, tied tree, stood her
pony, Beauty She had evidently been dragged
from her horse and murdered. The murderer's OBJ
ject was not plunder, for her well filed purse re-
manned untouched, and also valuable gold watch
and chain. And unto this day the perpetrstor OF
this horrid crime has never been discovered. Ever
since that fearful, fatal eve the twilight shadows
gather, her spirit wanders through the bridge,
points to the wound in her heart and disappears,
This much gathered, little by little, OF this ghasty
affair."
few days AFTER whilst taking drive, propos-
ed to return town by way of the "old red bridge
1t was several miles out OF way, but my friend,
after satisfying himself that was not too weary,
readily assented. Owing 10 slight accident on
way thither it was after the twilight hour when
came upon the piece of woodland, through which
the river Here and there tiny rays of moon
light glimmered down between the green branches,
while dark and wired like, looming up in sshe dis
tance, the Bridge" The waters OF the beau
tiful Juniata could be spashng up in the
moonshine. Even the spirited ponies felt the
gloominess of the scene, and shrunk back. turn
ed 10 my friend and said: "Please, Mr.. H. drive
slowly, for wish TO see ii my eyes can rest upon
lovely Mary"
Scarce had the words escaped my lips when
brilliant light arose, so that my hand extended
could reach it. In the midst of that radiance stood
a maiden OF lovely form. Her eyes were blue as a
bit of summer sky, her cheek like marble and about
the lips fingered sweet sad look while her golden
curls clustered far adown the tiny waist. turned
to the apparition and asked: "In Gods name,
sweet Mary, tell whose bullet it was that found
its way into your poor heart" Tears gathered upon
her white cheeks as she shook her head, 'sNo."
Again 1 eutfeated. MARY, implore you tel, that
your weary heart may find rest, and the tired feet
cease their wanderingE. Tell me that you may no
longer rest under this cloud" and my own eyes
were shadowed with tears. But ere the question
was concluded fair Mary had vanished. The wind
came waiing, sobbing through the trees, as though
singing requiem for her. The moon shed down a
pale, mellow light, here and there visible through
the dense forest. The river below went dreaming,
splashing along, showing wave now and then,
where the moon smiled down upon its clear blue
waters. In a dreamy, dazed way, my friend started
the ponies, and we wended our way homeward
Years have passed since saw that fair vision,
but upon my memory it is engraved never to be
oblterated. And now, in imagination it stands be-
fore me, just as it did that summers eve in the
years goneb by. And unto this day, the huge old
red bridge looms up in the dusky twilight like
grim sentinel, over the dancing waters OF the blue
Juniata.
BOURBON, INDIANA.