St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1885-08-01

proximity of my work, with the solid ma
sonry, spacious apartments and roomy pas
sages of our new abode, and with the rem
nant of eighteenth century fashion and
grandeur which seemed to pervade the
neighborhood. And in Welham square we
lived prosperously, without any kind OF dis
turbance, for upward of six months.
In the course Of July my wife and the
children left home to spend a couple of
months at the seaside. | intended to join
them when the time came to take my holt
day, and in the meantime staid in London,
going daily to my work. Ellen staid on
with me to keep house i'll the absence of
her sister-in-law.
One evening four or five days after my
wife's departure was sitting in my study,
large room with door leading into the
drawing-room and heavy curtain hung
over my side of the door. 1t
was past II; my sister had retired
half an hour before, and the two maids
who were left in the house were presum-
ably in bed and asleep. | was, therefore,
surprised TO hear heavy and somewhat slow
footsteps, apparently those of a large man,
ascending the stairs from the ground floor.
The front door l knew was locked and
chained, nor had / heard any one ring. The
steps paused for moment on the landing
outside my door, and then heard the intru-
der proceed to go up the next flight of stairs,
leading to the bedrooms on the second
floor. Fsprang up, seized candle, and
opened the door. As l stood on the thresh-
old of my room | seemed to hear footsteps,
as of a man heavily mounting the stairs at
the top of the flight leading up from my
room. But, though held the light above
my head, l could see no one. Everything
nsa-lN
up the stairs, but nobody was visible. L
searched all the empty rooms, but with no
results. l called up Ellen and the
maids, but none of them had seen
or heard anything. l am ashamed
to say that. l made a specially
rigorous investigation of large room at
the back of the house, which we used for
night nursery, and which tradition declared
to have been the abode of my Inflated kins-
man, Ronald Massey. | then went down
stairs, and completed my search of the en-
tire premises. Everything was in order,
and at the end of an hour l went back to
my study and my book rather annoyed with
myself for having spent 50 much time i'll so
fruitleSS an exploration, and determined TO
think no more about the matter.
1t was the next night after this that l
suddenly started up very wide awake with
a conviction that somebody was in my bed
room. l seemed to hear still ringing in my
ears the sound of long-drawn human
sigh. L sat up, trembling with excitement,
and looked about in the dim twilight of
dawn in late July. L could see no one, but
L did not feel alone. The feeling of
suspense became unbearab!e. | jumped
out of bed and walked with nerv-
Gus determination to the window, where l
frua 1 1
light as there was being behind me. / saw
no one. Again | walked across the room,
and as did so l felt Enthusiastically that
wave of air that meets one walking in the
streets when some one on foot passes close
to him in the opposite direction. L seemed
to feel the light Craze of a passing substance
against my nightgOwn. L was dimly con-
Scious of faint, indescribable odor, calling
up recollectiOns of time of life long but
indefinitely passed. And while l stood
fixed to the spot with surprise and horror.
my heart beating violently, L heard dis
tlnctly four long, heavy steps passing from
me toward the window. The floor creaked
under their weight. The next instant L felt
that | was alone. But it was not until long
after the morning was as light as noon that
l fell asleep again.
l awoke much troubled in mind. and
doubling whether L should not, like my
fathers. be obliged to leave this uncanny
dwelling, but when in some measure le-
stored by breakfast, / determined to say
nothing TO my sister at present, but wait
and see whether the situation would in any
way develop itself. My resolution was
fated to be put to the test sooner than l
expected.
l did not get home that evening until
al I Il
the drawing-room Ellen greeted me with,
"Oh, Edward. what do you think has hap
pened? Skies is dead!'
Now, Skies was great parrot belonging
to my wife. He was so called. because
when he first came to us it was affirmed of
him, perhaps rather libelOusly, that, like the
hero of Mr.. Caverly's poem, he ''habitually
SwOre." He certainly did from time to
time blaspheme somewhat unreservedly.
| was secretly not altogether sorry to
hear of his demise. SO | answered with
much composure. did the cat eat him?''
NO" said Ellen, ''he died in the most
horrible COMMISSIONS"
L went up to get ready for dinner, think
ing more of how to prevent my wife from
replacing Skies by another clamorOuS bird
than of the manner of the lost ones
death, but in the course of our meal it
occurred to me that his fate was an odd
one.
How did Skies come to have conyul-
SionS?" | asked.
why, it was most curious" answered
Ellen. | was in the drawingroom writing
letters, and suddenly heard tremendous
screaming and Tapping. and l looked up,
and there was. Skies turning over and over
in the air, ana pecking and clawing and
flo N.ri,,o md ta
fore | could get to him he suddenly twisted
his head right round two or three times,
and tumbled down Oh the floor"
But do you mean" l said, THAT he was
carrying on these gymnastics up lin the air?'
Yes: when l saw him he was quite up
above his cage, which was on the little
table, and i'll his struggle he must have
wrung his own neck"
That seems rather remarkable"
Eyes; and another remarkable thing was
that he must have opened the door of his
cage and got out all by himself, which |
never heard of his doing before. because L
had been feeding him with cake after lunch.
and | know the door was fastened then. =. l
found it open when he was dead"
Had he been out long?''
'NO. He must have been seized almost
directly as he got out, because it so hap
pened that about five minutes before he be-
gan to scream, l fancied heard the door
open, and looked up to see if anyone was
coming in, and no one was there. but lap
pened to see the parrot. and he was in his
cage just as usual"
Well" l said. Il suppose he's dead,
and there's an end of it: but it is very
singular catastrophe. i hope Marion won't
be inconsolable."
During the recent dinner was comedians
OF being rather poor company. Following
closely upon the mysterious occurrences /
have described, Skies unhappy fate