West Virginia argus. [volume] (Kingwood, W. Va.) 1877-1946, 1879-12-13
Tho Christmas Ghost.

Look alive there" growls the coach.
man as the passengers enter the coach. "Au-
aboard shouts The guard A few cries of
Farewell merry melody ON the horn, a
crack of the whip aud the Comet is oiI.
laden with School-boys, prim maiden ladies'
sun old gentleman, and jolly commercial
traNClcrs the greater part of whom are 90
iug home for the HOLIDAYS
The air is keen. The skies arr, bluc tho
road frozen hand, and most prosperous
Journey Is anticipated. Al uighifall they
enter tiny village, and there being NO
changc OF horses the coach joys scrcncy
over the rough stones of the High street
when crack wheel rolls OIL and the
passengers have "a spill Although many
female scrc ans are heard, no one .sscrous
ly hurt Chiefly diSCunCcrtinr, however.
is the idea OF passing Christmas eve here.
when CHEEKY iircs,dcs and anxious friends
are waiting on ahead. But the coach will
not be In travelling order until the ncNS
morning, SO there isno help for il, and they
all adjourn 10 the Red Lion, neat little
inn, which is quite tluttcrcd at the advent
of so many guests.
After hearty supper they all gather
around the enormous fireplace where the
lame ro9rs up the chimney as though Cclc.
bmting Christmas with all it's heart. Each
contributes To a bowl OF punch, and the
fumes of the liquor combined with the
good nature of the season, having dispcllcd
their British reserve, they propose one an.
others health until the punch is exhausted
'f1ll itup again, and IN tell Won story, A."
cries II very stout, rosy man, In bag wig.
nothing could bc better The bowl is full
To the hrlm, and the stout gentleman coughs.
looks solemn, wiuks at thc hnr-maid, and
begins:
"My father, ON retiring from business.
bought country in Sussex called The
Oaks Miles of beautiful woodland sur
rounded the gloomy house, which was so
large 1t could accommodate IL hundred
guests with ease. There had been rumors
OF ghoslly tenants, but We paid no attention
to them and took possession NJ once The
only mysterious thing about the place was
a door which could not bc opened. Every
means but fire had been employed. and
father tinaly-gavc it up. The first Christ
mas we gave ball An the country was
there, and gorgeous supper was prepared
Bui IN the midst of reel, the candles
burned blue aud n beautiful female glid-
eel silently through the room. followed
and saw her enter the mystic door When
! returned the party had just recovered
from the awful hush prevailing when the
ghost had passed. | told my tale, and we
rushed stairs To- the room. We entered
easily, and found nothing save few old
letters ON the floor. We picked them up
and learned the sOrrowful history of the
beautiful girl. She was the daughter of nn
Earl, and had loved a handsome cavalier.
against whose family her father bore "a dccp
hatred. She persisted i'm her affection, and
even vowed that sooner or later, i'm life or
In death, she and her lover would be united
One Christmas eve, as father and daughter
stood IN the ballroom, the old dispute was
renewed. She bcsOught the proud Earl i'm
pltcous accents TO consent TO her wedding
the man she loved and save her from
lingering death. lie only replied by bit
ter, cOntcmptnous smile. Finally she cross
ed thc room, and, turning, waved
naughty farewell To her cruel sire. But
what spectacle met her eyes! 4 gloomy
procession OF blaCk-robcd monks, bearing
torches, entered the apartment. they filed
in slowly, and last came "a bier on which
lay cold and stark her lover With wild
shrek OF despair, she flung herself on her
knees by mis- side and buried her face in his
hands. Daughter, said a monk standing
near, 'bc comfortcd. She answered not
Her heart had broken She was dead
There was silence in the little public
room, broken only by the cracklc Of the
burning logs
"Poor dear" said the londlady, wipiug
her eyes on her apron.
The stout gentleman laughed hearty
laugh that shook the glasses i'm the bar.
bless you, my dear madam, you needn't
be wasting your highly valuable sympathics
on this story Of mine, for don't mind tell
ing you that my father no more owned or
dreamed Of owing an estate I'm Sussex or
any other county than the head Of one Of
your shining andirOns. But Ill have TO
sing you song to pay for my fraud, so
here goes
And thus the evening passed pleasantly
on until bedtime, when the meeting broke
up with three cheers for the stout gentle
man, including his bag wig