The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1880-01-01
Tho Christmas I'nOSt.

"Iooll alive there p grrwls tho coach
man as the passengers enter .he coach. GAIL
aboard" F" shouts the guard. 4 fcw cries of
"Farewcll," Il merry mcloc J on the horn, q
crack of the whip, and the Comet" is oil,
ladcn With school, l7boys, pri | maiden ladies,
stilf old gentleman, and jolly commercial
travellers. the greater part ot whom are GO
ing home for the holidays.
The air is keen, the skies arc blue, the
road frozen hand, and Lost prosperous
Journey is anticipated, At nightfall they
enter tiny village, and t.cre being no
change Of horses, the coach jogs ,screncly
over the rough stones of Tie High street,
when crack Il wheel ro',s or and the
passengers have spill. "Sllthough many
female scrc ans arc heard, 0 one isscrious-
ly hurt. Chiefly disconce' ling, however,
is The idea Of passing Chi mas eve here,
when chcciy ireSldrs and .axiOus friends
are waiting on ahead. Bu the coach will
not be in travelling order until the noxt
morning, SO there isno help forit, and they
all adjourn to the Red Lio., neat little
inn, which is quite iluttcre. at the advent
Of SO many guests.
After a hearty supper t.cy all gather
around the enormous ilrcpN.cc, where the
flame rodrs up the chimney rs though cclc-
brating Christmas with all S heart Each
contributes to Il bowl of pguch, and the
fumes of the liquor, confined with the
good nature Of the season, ',lving dispcllcd
their British reserve, they propose one an
others health until thc punch is exhausted.
"Fili tup again, and rlltcll you story"
cries very stout, rosy ma':< in u bag wig.
nothing could be better. Iac bowl Is full
to the brim, and the stout gentleman coughs,
i'll, -,
begins:
"My father, on retiring from business,
bought counrysca in Su sex called The
Oaks. Miles OF bsputiful woodland sur
rounded the gloomy house, Which was so
large il could Accommodate hundred
guests with case. There had been runors
of ghos,ly tenants, but we r,id no attention
to them and took possession at once. The
only mysterious thing about the place was
Il door which could not be opened. Every
means but fire had been employed, and
father inullygavc it up. The first Christ
mas we gave a ball All the country was
there, and gorgeous supper was prepared.
But in the midst of reel, tho candles
burned blue and n beautiful female glid-
Ell 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. Itold NJ tale, and we
rushed upstairs to the room. We entered
easily, and lound nothing sa,c few old
letters on the floor. We picked them up
and learned the Sorrowful history of the
hcauti ifnl girl. She was the daughter of an
Earl, and had loved a handsome cavalier,
against whose family her father bore n deep
hatred. She persisted in hrr affection, and
even vowed that sooner or l. .rr, in life or
in death, she and her lover wu,lld be united
One Christmas eve, rs rathnr,and daughter
stood in the ballroom, the old dispute was
renewed. She bcaought the proud Earl in
pltCouS accents 10 consent to her wedding
the man she loved and save her from a
lingering death. lie only replied by bit
ter, contcmptncus smile. Finally she cross
oil the room, and. turning, waved
naughty farewell to her cruel sire. But
what spectacle met her eyes! a gloomy
procession ol black-robcd monks, bearing
torches, entered the apartment. They filed
in slowly, and last came a bier on which
lny cold and stark her lover, With q wild
shrek Of despair, she flung herself on her
knees by mis- side and buried her face in his
hands. Daughter said monk standing
near, 'be comfortcd.' She answered not.
Her heart had broken. She was dead"
There was a silence in the little public
room, broken only by the cracklc of the
burning logs.
"Poor dcar!" said the landlady, wiping
her eyes on her apron.
The stout gentleman laughed n hearty
laugh that shook the glasses in the bar
"B!css you, my dear madam, you needn't
be wasting your ighly-valuablc sympathics
on this story of mine, for don't mind tell
ing you that my father no more owned Or
dreamed of owing al estate in Sussex or
any othor county than the head of one of
your shining andirons. But III have to
sing you song to pay for my fraud, SO
here goes.
And thus tho evening passed pleasantly
on until bedtime, when the meeting broke
up with three cheers for the stout gentle
man, including his bag wig.
Boys Fortune.