The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1882-02-23

! dreamlng-of ravlng perhaps, tn
J boy said, with sort of disdainfu
smile.
This look Of his perplexed me; i
l was less like fever than | thought
; Are you quite sure you have no
! dreamt it, Roland?" said.
''Dreamt? ?-thatr' He was spring
ing up again when he suddenly be
thought himself, and lay down fla
with the same sort of smile on hi
face. "The pony heard it too," HI
said. "She jumped as if she had beer
shot If | had not grasped at the
reins,-for [ was frightened, fa
ther-''
mo shame to you, my boy" said
though l scarcely knew why.
''If | hadn't held to her like leech
she'd have pitched me over her head
and never drew breath till we were at
the door. Did the pony dream it?
he said, with a soft disdain, yet indul-
gence for my foolishness. Then he
added slowly: 1T was only cry the
first time, and all the time before you
went away. I wouldn't tell you, for
it was so wretched to be frightened.
I thought it might be a hare or a rab-
bit shared, and [ went in the morning
and looked, and there was nothing.
It was after you went [ heard it really
first, and this is what it says" He
raised himself on his elbow close to
me, and looked me in the face. "'Oh,
mother, let me in! oh, mother, let me
inr" As he said the words a mist
came over his face, the mouth quiver-
ed, the soft features all melted and
changed, and when he had ended
these pitiful words, dissolved in a
shower Of heavy tears.
Was it hallucination? Was it
the fever Of the brain? Was it the
disordered fancy caused by great bodily
weakness? How could [ tell? [
thought it wisest to accept it as if it
were all true.
"This is very touching, Roland" |
said.
"Oh, if you had just heard it, IA
ther! l said to myself, if father heard
it he would do something; but man.
ma, you know, she's given over to
Simson, and that fellows a doctor,
and never thinks of anything but
clapping you into bed"
1--WE must not blame Simson for
being doctor, Roland"
mo, no." said my boy, with delight
full liberation and indulgence; ''oh,
no; that's the good of him-that's
what he's for; know that. But you
you are different; you are just IA
ther. and you'll do something,-di
rectly:. papa, directly,-this very
"Surely," said. mo doubt it is
some little lost child"
He gave me a sudden, swift look,
investigating my face as if to see if,
after all, this was everything my emil
nence as father" came to,-no more
than that? Then he got hold Of my
shoulder, clutching it with his thin
hand: Look here" he said, with a
quiver in his voice; suppose it wasn't
Lying at all?''
MY dear boy, how then could you
have hoard it?'' said.
He turned away from me with a
pettish exclamation, Gas if you didn't
know better than thatr'
do you want to tell me it is a
ghost?" I said.
Roland withdrew his hand; his
countenance assumed an aspect Of
great dignity and gravity; a slight
quiver remained about his lips.
Whatever it was-you always said
we were not to call names. 1t was
something--in trouble. Oh, father,
in terrible troublet'
"But, my boy" [ said-I was at my
wits end-''if it was child that was
lost, or any poor human creature
but, Roland, what do you want me to
do?"
Il should know if I was you," said
the child eagerly. THAT is what [
always said to myself, Father will
know Oh, papa, papa, to have to
face it night after night, in such ter
rible, terrible trouble! and never to be
able to do it any good. | don't want
to cry; it's like baby, | know; but |
can't help it; out there all by itse'f in
the ruin, and nobody to help it. |
can't bear it, | can't bear itr' cried
my generous boy. And in his weak
ness he burst out, after many attempts
to restrain it, into great childish fit
Of sobbing and tears.
| do not know that | ever was in
greater perplexity in my life; and
afterwards, when [ thought of it,
there was something comic in it too.
1t is bad enough to find your child's
mind possessed with the conviction
that he has seen-or heard-a ghost.
But that he should require you to 60
instantly and help that ghost, was
the most bewildering experience that
had ever come my way. am sober
man myself, and not superstitious.
Of course Fdo not believe in ghosts;
but | don't deny, any more than other
people, that there are stories which |
cannot pretend to understand. My
blood got a sort Of chill in my veins
at the idea that Roland should be a
ghost-seer; for that generally means
hysterical temperament and weak
health, and all that men most hate
and fear for their children. But that
| should take up his ghost and right
its wrongs, and save it from its
trouble, was such a mission as was
enough to confuse any man. | did
my best to console my boy without
giving any promise of this astonish-
ing kind; but he was too sharp for
me. He would have none of my ca
resses. With sobs breaking in at in
tervals upon his voice, and the rain
drops hanging on his eyelids, he yet
returned to the charge.
1T will be there now-it will be
there all the night. Oh think, papa,
think, if it was me! | can't Fes5 for
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