The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1880-03-17

CbJSSSACAAD
my account, and as we were not rich
enough to buy such a home as we might
have chosen, within a week he had
paid the small sum required for the
haunted house, and we had moved into
ii, bag and baggage. / liked the place,
which was neither town nor country,
but was embowered among its trees,
Just at the terminus of the pavements,
with such grand old garden and such
glimpses of wood and water. The first
thing did was to open all the windows
wide, and let in the summers sun.
Martha Ann, my one servant, cleaned
away the mold and cobwebs, and fresh
paint and paper changed the rooms as
II by magic.
Charlie left his scientific researches
after business hours and pruned the
trees, cut the grass, trimmed the ragged
vines, rehung the shutters, and made n
small paradise out of the reclaimed
lawn.
When all was completed, there was
no place for ghosts in those wide, sunny
rooms. My bedroom was the pleasant
est room Of all, facing the east, and
looking out upon the pear trees, the
hollyhocks and the river. Pink had
been my color when girl, so l took a
fancy my room should be all pink. The
dull drab paper, with green vines wan
dering about and clutching aimlessly at
nothing ali over it, was changed for
delicate pink and white. The carpet
was pink and white, the color under the
cheap muslin pillow shams was pink,
the lace curtains hung over pink shades.
and were looped back with pink rib
bons, making as whole too rose-hued
a bower for any spccter to fancy.
/ believe l was as entirely happy,
after getting settled that first week, as
any one could be who had lived in
rented houses all her life, and owned
one of her own for the first time.
had but one distaste for the place,
and tliat w for the basement, which,
! covered with clinging vines, was rotten
underneath. 1t had formerly been a
cellar. kitchen, but was now fallen into
disuse, and full of refuse piles of lumber,
old cans and unused rubbish. The
heavy vines grown over the broken
bricks had made it damp and noisome
place, and / never cared to explore it,
or to put it to any use, except the por-
tion directly under the trapdoor going
down from the kitchen. l had Martha
Ann clean away space here, and fill a
cupboard with canned fruit, vegetables,
etc.
| ! grew to have dread of this dark
and cheerless cellar, and never came out
of it without shivering, though would
not own it even to myself.
1t had scarcely been my receptacle for
fruit day before began to miss things
in most mysterious manner. Before
'could realize it there would be glass
of jelly, pie, loaf of cake, a melon,
or plate OF peaches gone. could ac-
cuse no one but the ghosts and Martha
Ann, and she had always heretofore
been the soul Of truth and honor.
Twice / iancied, when in the cellar, ]
had heard sigh and a rustic of ghostly
garments, and l could have sworn |
heard the wailing of y ung child
several times; but l would have died
rather than own this to my husband.
" Martha Ann" said |, one day, COM
ing up in great haste from the cellar,
"do ghosts like picked figsPn
4" am sure l don't know, ma'amw
Martha AIMS eyes are as wide, as in
nocent and unquailing as ever.
"Well, you know that jar of pickled
figs my cousin sent me from California,
that was saving till mother came to
visit meP Well, they are two-thirds
gone, as well rs that pie that was laid
away expressly for Charlie! What am
to think"
/ am angry and excited Martha
Ann says nothing, as usual. but l see
her tears are quietly falling over the
dish-apron she is hemming. l am rather
relieved the day after when she asks me
for months vacation to visit her sick
grandmother. / do not like to accuse
her of theft, and l would like to be
alone to ferret out this mystery. Ihave
fresh bolts put on the cellar-doors, and
the chinks in the bricks 6lled in. The
trap-door | keep fastened down with
heavy weights, still the depredatiOus
90 on--pies, cakes, ice-cream left in the
freezers, cream off the milk, a portion
of every available thing il missing from
day to day.
am too proud to confide in Charlie,
but my life is getting to be burden.
One bright September day sit down in
the kitchen in tears, with my feet in the
oven, and would fain cover my head
with my apron, like Artery Flintwinch
in " Little Dorrit, " to shut out the faint
walls of some child that am sure are
coming from the cellar.
Martha Ann will not be home for two
weeks; l am tired out and discouraged {;
Charlie will be home in half an hour to
five o'clock dinner, and the spirits
have eaten all the cold roast and tarts
that have laid away for that especial
banquet.
/ shall be forced to tell him that for
my hardihOod in making him buy this
, haunted house, he is destined to go on
half-rations generally, / think with a
= sob, when hear faint step below and
see the trap-door slowly rising, and the
blanched face and thin shoulders of a
/ woman, with skeleton child in hel
, arms, coming into view.
= Can l believe my eyes9 Yes, it is the
Z shrunken, faced form of Grace Wool
9 son, which know in an instant, though
5 the sunken eyes and claw-like hands anC
. skeleton figure, make but a silhouette Of
!, the rosy, dimpled girl remember.
' l am not a nervous woman, and
y have expected this ghost to appear 81
long, that do not scream or faint away
e when she comes toward me, and thu
y pathetic, dropping air with which sh,