The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1885-03-12

had not unnaturally turned upon ghost
stories, as the district was an out of
the way one, and the country folk were
fully persuaded of the existence of kel-
pies and warlocks of various kinds.
What now happened was that some of
the young people fancied they had
found the reason why | was willing to
stay all night, and boldly told me thatI
was frightened to cross certain bridge
on my way home that had the reputa-
tion of being haunted. / knew the
spot well, though | had never found out
its exact story, and when had assured
the country people that l had no fears
OF the experiment, they solemnly shook
their heads and averred that not for
sums untold would they cross the bridge
after nightfall. On the present occa-
sion, as | had been foremost among the
skeptics during the storytelling, I
felt my reputation at stake; and
declaring | would on no account re-
main, gave orders to have my pony
brought round. The whole party came
to the door to see me start-the elders
inveighing against my foolishness in
setting off at that time of night; the
young people plying me with horrors
and telling me to be sure to come
round next morning-if alive-and give
an account of my adventures. To all
gave merry reply, and lighting my
pipe, swinging myself into the saddle,
and shouting "Good night / cantered
off down the avenue.
For a couple of miles the road led me
down a deep wooded glen. On both
sides the mountains lowered aloft to a
height of more than two thousand feet,
their lower slopes thickly clad with pine
and birch, their shoulders and SUBMITS
white from a recent heavy snowfall.
The river poured along tumultuously,
close beneath the road, swirling past
frowning cliffs of rock, brawling and
battling with heaps of powders, shoot
ing in sheets of glancing foam over cas-
cade and rapid. By daylight the scene
was sufficiently grand and impressive :;
Illuminated as it now was by faint
moonlight, it was much more so. The
night was calm and slightly frosty; but
overhead a strong breeze was blowing,
and from time to time the moon was
obscured by the flying clouds. The
play of light and shade brought about
by this was very beautiful; at one mo-
ment the shaggy hillsides and deep
pools of the river were plunged in
deepest shadow; in the next flood of
pale glory poured over them, paint
ing the rushing stream with silver,
shooting shafts of light among
the tall trees, tracing mosaics
on the dark surface of the road. Each
clump of ferns, each bush and stump,
took uncommon shape, and it required
no great stretch of imagination to con-
vert the powders and reefs of rock out
in the stream into waterbulls and KEEL
pies. The rush and roar of the river
drowned all other sounds; but with the
exception of the echoing tread of my
pony and the occasional bark of fox
from the hill there was nothing else to
be heard. On my way down the glen l
passed few scattered cottages, but
their occupants were long ago in bed,
although it was not much past ten
o'clock.
The wilder part of the glen ended in
fine pass, where the hills lowered al
most straight up from the river, and
the pines threw so deep shadow thfs
for few Yards it was impossible to see
the road. just beyond, the mountains
retreated to right and left, and through
short and level tract of meadow-land
road and stream made their way down
to the shores of the loch. Ahead of me
| could see its broad bosom glancing in
the moonlight, and the great snow-clad
mountains beyond it. As the improved
condition of the road now made rapid
progression easier, l gave the pony his
head and he went along in style that
promised soon to land me at my des-
tination.
There was only one thing that
troubled me-the haunted bridge. Once
past it, and I should thoroughly enjoy
my moonlight ride. / do not know
whether it was the thought of the ghost
stories with which we had beguiled the
hours after dinenr. and which now kept
recurring to my mind in spite of all eff
forts to the contrary, or whether it was
the solemn and impressive scenery had
passed through in the glen, that had
unstrung me; but the nearer / drew to
TIC DIIuSc tnt IuOT0 ul1cOInlOTGdDle
felt regarding it. 1t was not exactly
fear, but vague presentment of evil
the Highland blood asserting itself.
could not get rid of the sensation. ]
tried to hum and whistle, but the forced
merriment soon died natural death.
l was now on the loneliest part of the
road. From the bottom of the glen as
far as the bridge-about three miles
there was not single cottage; and more
than mile ON the other side of it lay a
scattered hamlet. The moon, too,
which had hitherto befriended me, row
threatened to withdraw its light, and
where clumps of trees overhung the
road the darkness was deep. The pony
carried me along bravely-he knew he
was going homeland in short time a
turn in the road showed me, some dis
tance ahead, a ribbon of white light
upon the dark hillside. 1t was the
stream that ran beneath the fatal bridge.
Better get out of this as soon as posi-
Bile, Thought; and with voice and stick
encouraged the pony to increased speed.
On we went! The roar of the haunted
stream was loud and near now; the
gloom increased as we plunged deeper
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