The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1874-12-31
THE TERRIBLE NIGHT.

" That was strange sound among
the raiters Did you hear it2"
This question was eagerly asked of
his nearest neighbors by one of little
group of travellers who had gathered
round the embers of q pine wood fire at
a wayside In one of the remotest parts
of wild Bohemia.
heard nothing, replied the trav-
eier thus addressed, casting mp his eyes
suspiciously, nevertheless, to the hol-
/ low roof above their heads, black and
/ grim with the smoke of many a winter 8
day and night.
" Is was strange" said n quiet voice
from the opposite corner of the huge
chimney, " but not SO strange az sounds
that have heard aud sights that have
! SEEN"
This was enough, and more than
enough. His fellow-travelers unani
mously veer9d round in the direction of
/ the speaker, and entreated him to com
municate something of what he had
seen and what he had heard, hoping for
| the worst as to its being a something
very CHASTITY and horrible.
The speaker, evidently by his accent
a native of some part of Germany, was
a middle aged man, and bore the APP
pearanoe of an artist just such a one
as might have been sent in his earlier
days by the great man of his native
town or village to study art in Rome,
and to return from thence-like how
mnny other ?-doing little more, per
haps even less, than before he sought
the oraeles that now vouchsafe no an
swer. He was a wonderfully strange,
imaginative looking being Though by
no means an unprepOsessing one either),
with wild blue eye, an abstract ST lie,
and an odd way of speaking, as it were,
to persons who were not present, and
not to those who we're so.
Years ago, began the stranger, with
| something Of sigh, years ago. in the
| spring time of my life, but in the au-
| tumn of the year, followed the wan
i behring's of the Rhine One evening 1
found myself, weary and sore-footed,
sitting in the shadow of one of those
far-famed relics OF a stormy past,
whose still powerful outline, as it
crowns and seems to ennoble the com
mon vineyard hill, yet arrests the gaze
of the thoughtful traveller, or of one
like myself, pilgrim on the face Of the
earth, in search of the beautiful.
81 was n grand dreamer in those days,
and, as 1 lay gazing musingly up at
those stern old walls, still keeping
faithful watch in spite of time and
weather, the life of its own. day seemed
to be restored to the long silent strong
1 hold. There il was all before me the
steel clad night on his steed of raven.
black the slender form OF the gentle
minstrel, moon-tipped among the fall
| ing shadows the way-worn pilgrim who
stopped to shake the dust from his
hempen sandal at the castle gate. ]
saw them all. Music, too, there was
wild, daring snatches of warrior sor g
from the halls within, and bursts OF
clarion-calling from the rampant walls
without, and harp-strings that trembIed
on the ear as a ray of light on water.
All this / seemed to see and hear; but
while l yet fingered, spell-bound to the
spot, a team of oxen followed by Its
peasant driver, came hurrying down to
drink at the oft-sung river, and the
trampling of the beasts and the shouts
OF the driver soon scared my visions far
away. An ancient-looking man, who
sat and smoked bis pipe on one OF the
drRw-bridge walls, came forth from his
sbadowy corner to have a word with the
passing stranger.
have seldom seen a more weird
looking being than the old man then be-
fore me. His hair was white and long
his beard was white and long his pipe
was whitest and longest OF all and lac
had no sooner wished me good evening
than he showed his anxiety TO rid him.
self OF my company by wishing me
good night The road beyond me was,
he said, lonely one (no company all
along it but the storks), and he recon.
mended me to lose no time in starting,
so as not to be overtaken by the night
a storm too, he thought, was brewing
but il set of at once I might reacI
the nearest village before it burst. nc
sleeping here, you know, sir, he added
lmpressively, seeing that 1 still linger
ed no sleep here. You wouldn't like
1t, nor l either you'd best be of, sir.
There was a something ysleriously
imperative in the old fellows tone and
gestures as he said this. neither uu
derstOOd nor relished il. I was very
young then, and waywsrd, as one is APP
to be in the golden days Of ones life
Had the old man pressed me to stay, OF
even merely invited me to pass the
night in his skeleton of a dwelling
place, should most likely, like a free
horse turning his shoulder TO the stable
door, have turned my back on its mol
dering walls and my face TO the opeI
fields; bat ne wished me away hs
churishly ur3ed my departure from the
precincts of his little kingdom, aud
therefore, I simply determined to re
main.
Just at this crisis some rain-drops
began to fall with heavy splash on the
broad, gray stones Of the bridge besides
which we we're standing.
ss See ?" / exclaimed to the UNWILLING
host, the storm has begun already.
Sarely there must be some one habit
able corner in your huge castle there in
which YOU conld allow me to wait for
morning for it's vain to think OF reach
ine the nearest sleeping place before
midnight, with ell this wind and rain,
and my poor tired feet.
50 Habit8ble corners 2 repeated the
old man, with an air of offended pride,
closely followed, however. by an APP
pToach to q facetious chuekle, which, as