The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1873-01-25
A Ghost Story.

Tn fact. thew of the Four Swans were not
much used to strangers OF any sort. They
had a quiet, steady-going connection in Nor
ham ITSELF Three or four trade clubs held
their meetings there, and the six or seven
bedrooms of the establishment were kept in
just the state of order and comfort which
suited the individuality of the six or seven
Commercial gentlemen who, when on Nor
ham business, had patroniZed the Four Swans
for the last twenty or thirty years. Ii ever
a stranger appeared, it was generally with
so ne such Introduction as this: Landlord,
M. Dash, of Blank, told me you would give
me good quarters for day, or for week."
as the case might be. Indeed, the Four
Swans, had, as it were, hidden itself from all
chance corners, for it was situated in a quiet
corner of very quiet street, down which no.
body would think OF turning unless he knew
something of it beforehand; and altogether,
with its interior of brown panelling, its wealth
of quaint and grotesque ornaments, its red
tiled verandah, and its communicative conf
Dental old servants, the Four Swans was an
excellent type of these honest, homely hos
tells which are fast being improved from
the tace of the earth.
Tae gentleman in the coffee-room did not
notice tlat he had done an odd thing by
coming in without a word, and remaining
without an order. Perhaps he had other
things to think about. He was a tall, mid
dle-aged man, with good deal of hair upon
his face; and, though he was Enthusiastically
well-dressed, he had that indefinite air which
most men carry who at any period of their
lives have "knoek d about in ships and col
onies, in canvas suits and corduroys.
He had come in about five O'Clock, and six
O'Clock stru k, and seven, and it was within
two minutes of eight, when an old Norham
fnvu in n lpnlS the
To the intense satisfaction Of the waiter, that
effectualy reused the stranger. But SO slow
ly-lke the awakening from long. enchant-
ed sleep. And so it had been, an enchanted
sleep haunted BY dream of five-and-twenty
years ago,
81 want to stay here for the night, WAITER"
he said abruptly. ''Any comfortable sort O..
bedroom will suit me. Aud bring me some
tea and toast"
The watr was alert 'sTheress little
private room off here, sir" he said, throwing
open door. ''Pll set your tray there; it 5
more retired like than this"
The gentle an followed as invited. 1t
was square closet, with two or three stuff
ed chairs, a polished round table, and a dull
oil painting over the mantle. That was all
that would strike any strange eye. But the
gentleman walked straight to a panel beside
the fireplace, and peered at it. Under the
SLOW ulSCOlOIdbiOu dlu lldlly WdSufilSo VI q
hong time, there was still visible slight
dashing pen-and-ink sketch of an old man,
with long nose and spectacles.
''Der me! sir, you've got quick eyes to
find that out directly said the chatty old
waiter. ''Clever, isn't ita A young dare
devil he was that did it, and that was por
trait OF the London detec i've that had come
down to take him off to prison. His last
meal in Norham he ate in this here room, sir,
lot n ba, oraA4 bo
through, sir, and never minded bit That the
policeman was a-watching of him."
The gentleman said not word
s'Hes queerer than ever" confided the
waiter to the old cook, as he received the tea
and toast from her hands. 81 began to tell
him about young Rogerson, but h did not
listen bit, did not even askit he was hang
ed or anything. It's like taking meal to a
ghost, that it ISL
stories about as bad young scamp as ever
lived to disgrace honest fami "" retortad
the Old COOK, who was sharp in her temper;
'and as to ghosts, there's plenty O. ghosts
everywhere, tor them as has sense to see 'em,
Peter, but don't think you need be afeared.'
Meanwhile another Norham .radesman had
dropped into the cotfee-room, and Peter, in
the intervals of his attendance, came out and
chatted with them in cheerful equality
in his remaining standing while they were,
seated.
''Real Christmas weather this said Mr..
Johnston.
'sBut Norham's very dull,'' answered Mr..
Lee.
They're a dead-aud- alive set of people,
now,-the Norhamites," said Mr.. Johnston,
who was one him elf. and would allow no
body else to abuse them. sit used to be diff
ferent in my young days. l remember it
quite gay, what with the oxen roasting to be
given in charity. and the puddings boiling
for the same, and everybody that was any
way connected with the Church-and every
body seemed to be in those days-invited to
tea in the Townhall And usedn't there to
be fine carol-singing through the streets And
rare Christmas sermons he used to preach,
the old rector that was, in my young days.
sab, that was Mr.. Rogerson,' put in Pet
er, directing his thumb toward the open door.
1--WE just been showing that gent that bit of
au old sketch up agen the wall. He broke
the good old gentleman's heart, that young
scamp did," =
'sAh, yes, and did a deal of harm to Nor
ham every way" pursued Mr.. Johnston;
"we've never had lively Christmas
since: remember the first after his going off.
What could people do when they knew there
was nothing but misery in the rectory house?
The to Nn just kept as quiet as ever it could,
and it couldn't do less every Christmas after,
during the old re tors days. And so it got
out of the good old ways
'Poor young Rogerson, said old Mr. Lee.
81 used to think there was something good in
the young fellow, for all his wildness, and
always hoped he'd right himself, till he went
and did thAt wickedness that set man against
him, as well as God" ..~- .sf
81 don kr about good or not,' persist
ed Mr.. johns N, ''but l know that it took
years ana years before his sister Mary looked
ap again. Only at last, as time began to
hicken over tne tender spots O. grief and
,hame, she kind of took heart. Says she
,nce to nv dear wife that's dead, Mrs. John
ton onr moor Dick was the child of many
PRAYERS, and I've faith God will keep hold Of
aim And then she took fancies that he was
dead. And l noticed she was happier-like af-
ter that-just as one breathes freer in house
alter the dearest corpse is buried AS for poor
rom kogerson, his brother ruined him for |
1nls NE, anyway. Maybe he needn't, but |
Poor MI. ION was awful proud and sensitive |
Hilss MARY, sne told my wife that her brother
I toli saiI he never ask people to trust him,
= ne oouiun expect they would, after
MS protners ways, and he wonldn,t Low HIM
self open to be half-trusted, and wato 10y I'm" and
suspected all the time. And so ba 49, CIV
SO clever stayed poor under-clerlx oil H. 49,
OF his days, and has left his poor widow ;',st
to struggle on and get what places s'U sho JUST
for her boys. Such pretty, DAINTY , n,;,a can
she used to be, and now she's wearing . asS as
rusty silk that's been turned and turned on on
she's forgotten which is its real right side ~, II
should think what their uncle did won't oa
against my sons, Mr.. johnston she said onIv
the other day. Bless you, Mrs. Tom,' says i, |
half the town-people are new since them
I'm always so afraid he'll come back, says
she; I'm sure don't wish him not to repent
sys she, Il always hoped he would-but 1
can't help thinking of my own, and for their
sakes, I'd rather he never came back The
more penitent he is. the more he'll stay away,
ma am says 1. 1T isn't as if the whole
story was above ground still, and he'd only
got to be forgiven and all would go well, but
there's some that's dead that died in wrath
and bitterness with others for his sake. Look
at poor old Mrs. Rogerson,-how she turned
against Mr.. Tom, good, dutiful son as he wa3,
because he wouldn't stay by Mr.. Dick til ough
.hick and thin, and defend him as if he were
innocent. Poor dear old lady, she knows |
,etter where she's been this many day. |
3ut Mr.. Dick had better wait to ask your for |
.iveness till he can ask hers too. You for
i've him, ma am says I, 'and that's enough |