New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1876-12-10

read it carefully. The handwriting,
not precisely the same as that Of n
friend, certainly resembled it very stsonl
~, and, though had with me none
the actual writing to compare with it,
felt reasonably cure that my memory q
this point was Trustworthy. After thinl
ing carefully over my list of acquain
ances. felt certain that there was no or
of them who would be willing to play
practical joke of such nature, and
knew of no one in the city who had eve
l heard Armies name. Then, too, thel
j was the middle name of childish fame
l which I had never signed since the day
when Annie was my sole correspondent
Iput the letter in nuy bureau drawe
| and turned the key upon j. Putting thi
in my pocket, went out Is usual, for tn
day, resolved not to let the matter troubl
me. The business Of the busy day te
tally drove it out of my mind, until, rs
enteoed the house ct dusk. the memoir
came back to me with slight shock, sue
as an unwelcome memory frequently pro
/ duces. This was repeated and intensified
when. upon entering my room. foun'
the letter lying on the top Of the bureau
tried the drawers; ell were locked.
felt in my pocket; there was the key.
laughed at myself, and said, II must hav'
locked the stable door, leaving the ho1s,
outside. I'll zee that it's in now, any
way" So I pat the letter into tn
drawer, and, farming the key, placed il
in my pocket before going down tt
Soon after dinner my cousin came in,
| aAd We passed The evening in the pleasant
paelor Of my only acquaintance in the
house, whom I win call MIA Murray.
Dueing these hours did not think Of tie
lettee, having determined That ] would
NJ hhink Of Il; but when went into my
room for the night aft9 turning mp the gus
and stirring up the fire, I went 10 The bureau
10 hy Of my bracelets. There, stuck in
the frame Of the looking glass. was the
letter. The drawers were all looked; not
q thing in them had been disturbed. A
brooch, little money, finger ring. some
laces, and many little things hat might
have tempted thief or pilfefing house
maid, were all Just rs I had left them in
the same drawer where the letter had
been. There could be no mistake about
the matter this time. had locked that let
ter in the drawer just before dinner, and
had not since entered the room. Yet there
the thing was staring me in the face, with
the old, well-remembered handwriting and
the long-disused middle name, defying
me to doubt the reality of its presence in
place where I had not put it.
Holding it in my hand and sitting in q
low chair by the fire, I thought over the
subject of the letter.
It has never seemed to me to be un-
reasonable to believe that if there is a life
beyond the present, the spirits of those
who have reached it before as may some
times possess the inclination and the
power to communicate with us. But l
was not at all inclined to accept this COM
munication as coming from the spirit
land simply because it purported to do so.
l had seen only one or two professed
mediums" and these by accident, but
they had given me no desire to see more
Of their sort 1t was strong argument
against the genuineness of this commu-
nication that it professed to come through
the hands of q medium" Still, would
grant to myself, for the moment, that this
letter undoubtedly was from my dear old
friend. What in that case, could-what
ought ! to do? Of course, the person
referred to as in danger could only be
my cousin C., for, as far as
I knew, no one else who was dear to me
was then thinking of crossing the Allan
tic or any other ocean. But it was nom
sense to say that if he were lost the re-
sponsibility Of his loss would rest upon
me. If any particular vessel had been
mentioned in which it was said it would
be dangerous to sail, or if any special
week or month had been named, / would,
to have satisfied my conscience, have
faced my cousins certain ridicule, and
used my best powers of persuasion to in
duce him to take passage on another ves-
sci or at different time. But there was
no such mention. He did not even know
by what steamer he should leave New
York, as all depended upon his business
AS it was, how could I do |
Or say anything to prevent his going |
where both his domestic and his business |
interests called him?
Thinking about it as a real commune |
,ation from present but unseen friend,
at last said aloud, as to one within hear |
ng, "No, Annie, I can do nothing and |
will burn this letter, so that it shall not
rouble me any more"
A distinct whisper. apparently just by
ny ear, answered, you'll be sorry if you
TO-" Startled, looked all about the
oom-behind the sofa, under the bed,
'ack of the window-curtains- though I
Knew as well before as did afterward
hat there was no one in the room. The
occupants of the rooms next to mine had
been snoring for the last hour, and the
lalls had long been perfectly quiet.
Needless of the whispered warning, I
persisted in my purpose. The grate-fire
vas nearly out, but there were live Goals
nough to light the paper, and watched
while it was consumed to ashes.
The next morning went out, as usual,
pending the day in tedious details of
BUSINESS that would not arrange itself sat-
sfactorily, and happily forgetting the
ntered the house late in the afternoon,
y the sight of the mail-carrier's latest
udget waiting its several claimants on
be shelf of the hat-rack. Three letters
7ere for me, and one of them was directed
q the strange-familiar hand, and mailed
the city that morning. In the even
ng my cousin was to take Mrs. Murray
nd me to the Academy of Design /; so I
ut the letter, unopened, into my pocket,
nd resolutely forgot it until had locked
ayself into my room for the night. Then
opened it. The contents were the same
before, only that this time the missive
pened with tender reproach for my un-
elief, and the address of the medium"
'as placed below his name.
Again l sat down ard thought it all
yer, coming to the same conclusion as
efore. Even supposing, reasoned, that
bis is genuine communication from
Annie, she is mistaken in imagining that
can do anything to save G@'s life |