The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1882-06-09
EBENSBURG, PA. FRIDAY, JUNE 8, 1873:

Oub 10 Dt WHY, 0eltHeT InOIG nor less JDdD
the miler's own white donkey. which, hav-
ing been carelessIy tethered, had managed
to break loose, and was enjoying moon
light run by itself. dragging its chain along
with it?
'I took care to keep the secret but the
story leaked out somehow. and you may
fancy what a ha rd time Of It the poor miller
had in the village for a good while after al
though many who laughed at him would
have been no Drawer themselves in his place
''Now it happened that the hardest of al
upon him was Sam Barton, the butchers
great, bTawny fellow, with large red whis-
kers, and hand like one of his shoulders OF
mutton-who was fond of boasting that he
feared nothing above ground or under it.
zone night, when a lot of them were hav-
ing a sort of holiday-supper at the little inn,
yOnder, Barton made fun of the miller so un-
mercifuI!y that at last the poor fellow got
quite angry.
"Ab. any mon can talk big when there be
no danger % cried he, but if thee'd be T. my
place. thee'd ha' done jist as did,
"'Would I, though p shouted the butcher,
fiercely. The nun get up early to catch
Sam Barton playin' craddint (coward.) ]
bent afeared o. nought about ground, nor
under it nei ther'
wen, then,' said Grimes, looking him
full in the face, will thee go through the
church yard now7'
cave, that will cried the butcher Jump
ing ND at once 'an' We may a. COON with me
if We loike. and see that do it fair -
"WeH, bark We 70 me, lads, put in the land
lord, Use te live how we'll do It, Sam shall
TAX these three knives, and stick one i the
ground by the stile where he'll go in the
choorch-vard and another by Squire Hawk
er's monument T. the middle, and third at
the gate on t'oiher side. Then we'n 90
round to gate and meet him, and see that s
fair
''The plan was at once agreed to. and off
started the valiant butcher, whistling def
antlv, and cInking the three long knives in
bis brawnv hand.
"But as he began to leave the village
lights behind him, and 10 approach the dark
dreary church-yard, his whistle grew fainter
and his step less brisk. 1t was a chill,
gloomy night, and the wind moaned dismal
" through the Ieafiess trees while the dis
tant roar of the torrent that ran through
Dead Mans Gully sounded unnaturally loud
in the grim silence
"Every ghost story he had ever heard in
his life seemed to crowd into the unfortu-
nate butchers memory at once. and bv the
time he reached the stiIe he would gladly
have given all the money in his pocket to be
well out of the whole business. But it
would never do to give in now, so over the
eff a hn l.
and went on.
1.-THE church yard was dark as pitch, and
he got more than one tumble over the graves,
which made his nerve none the steadier.
"Just as he was sticking the second knife
beside the 'Squire's monument (Which loom.
ed white and ghostly through the darkness,)
the church clock struck twelve.
1.-THE deep, hollow sound, amid that dead
silence, started him from a walk into run.
On he went, scratching himself against pro-
jectirg boughs and bruiSing his shin upon
the tombstones, till at last he came down on
his bands and knees, close to the white gate
Just then an old owl overhead gave such
scream that Sam, too scared even to look
round, struck the third knife at random be-
hind him, and tried to rush off. But, Ioi
''i''iS oSiASu anu htlu hliD IaSJl ana
poor Sam, frightened out of his wits, howled,
shrieked, kicked. struggled, and finally
tainted outright.
Meanwhile, his comrades, who were
waiting outside, heard his cries, and fearing
something had gone wrong, ventured in.
Keeping very close together. And what do
you think they found? ? Why, that he had
stuck the knife through the skirt of his own
coat, and pinned himself to the ground
and that was all the ghost there was about
the matter"