The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1885-02-26


"Thistledown has just had II sensa-
ton" Sud my hostess, Mrs. Doree,>"a
veritable ghost story. Shall | tell
you about it?"
Certainly, but | warn you not to
impose too much upon my credulity,
for | am not superstitious.
"Oh, know you are a sad skeptic
! in such matters. However, this is
true story, an actual occurrence. Did
you notice the occupants of the pew
directly in front of mine this morn
mg?"
''Yes. A gentleman-a sweet little
girl, and young woman who appear
ed to be a nursery-maid. The man
wore a light, tweed suit, has tawny
hair and mustache, and the most Gym
ical face I ever saw"
THE same. His name is Cornelius
Buttertieid. He is native of Lon
don, England, and the little girl is his
only child. Pansy he calls her. He
came here five years ago, and entered
into partnersbip p with Mcleod & Co.
His wife, report said, was the daugh-
ter Of an English nobleman. She
was fair, blue-eyed, delicate-looking
lady Her age was apparently about
twenty years. She was highly educa-
ted, an accomplished musician, and
the most romantic, sensitive being |
ever knew. Her maid accompanied
her, but, after few weeks, went back
to England.
1.-The Butterfelds moved into a
new, uncomfortable-looking house up
town, where the young wife, who had
never dressed herself alone, or ar
ranged her golden hair, without the
aid of her maid, was obliged to do her
own. housework and sewing. Of
course this was very distasteful to one
who had been tenderly reared in lux
urious London home The lady could
not help being homesick and unhap-
py. It is said that she made many
mistakes in the culinary department
that her husband was very harsh if
not cruelty impatient with his young,
inexperienced wife. Poor thing! He
even denied her many Of the necessa-
ries, as well as all Of the luxuries Of
life, | was told.
Mrs. Butterfield had highly culti-
waited voice. She could play on the
piano with taste and expression, but
her husband refused to get her an in
strument. She would plead with him
for piano, with tears in her eyes,
and declare that she should be less
homesick if she could amuse herself
by playing on it when her work was
done; but he did not crafty her wish
in this respect. 1t is said that her
friends sent frequent sums of money
to her. If they did, he must have
kept them, for the piano never came
to cheer her.
Report says that he used to beat
her. but ] am not sure that this was
true; although I have heard him scold
her for boiling the coffee too long, or
cooking the coffee too much Or too lit
tie.
When [ found out how she could
play, invited her to come over here
whenever she had time to practice.
She was very thankful, | can assure
you; and would come in and sing for
hours at time. | must say again,
that still think Alice Butterfeld's
touch and voice were both the sweet
est and purest | have ever heard. Her
selections were new to most of US. In
deed, no one in Thistledown could
play any of her pieces-for her music
was higher class than ours. [ wish
you could have heard her.
But, how homesick and distrait she
was before her baby was born! Her
playing only seemed to revive old
memories and associations; for her
cheeks were usually wet with tears
when she left my piano: yet. one
could not question her. did not see
her alive after her little girl was born,
although [ called frequently. The
doctor or her husband was always on
guard, and would answer: ''She is
raving with fever You cannot see
her to-day" or "She is sleeping and
ought not to be disturbed" One day
when I went to the foot Of the stairs
to inquire about her, she cried out:
LET Mrs. Doree come up! [ must
and aoiH see her!' But the Doctor
hurried down and told me that his pa
tient did not know what she was say
ing; that my presence might excite
her too much. [ went away, fearing
l knew not what. She died that night;
and when | again saw her she was in
her coffin. Her husband was present.
He had never left her since the COM
mencement of her illness, the nurse
said, not even to take his meals. He
only wanted me to take care of the
baby, and bring things up stairs when
they were n. eded," she added. He
was the real nurse, and the doctor was
always in the house. He ordered me
to keep the baby out Of the sick
room, and keep people out of the
house, as his wife could not be dis
turbed with visitors. So, nobody ex-
cept himself and the doctor went into
her room, but l could hear the poor
thing raving and crying all day long
for a piano, or money to go home to
London, to her mother"
Mr.. Butterfeld and the physician
prepared the dead woman for the
grave. She was dressed in her beau
tiful wedding robe, a figured white
satin trimmed with rich lace. A
Queen Elizabeth ruche was placed
high about her neck, while her breast
and throat were covered with white
roses. Her face seemed to arise out
of thick mass of white flowers and
lace. They buried her very quickly, [
think-the second morning after she
died. The funeral was private also;
only few being present, including
the clergyman. We wondered why
the corpse was so profusely decorated
u,it h Houyo,S oo che u,ac NOT n bride
Her dead face was beautiful. 1t
seemed to glorify the poorly furnished
apartment, yet Mr.. Butterfeld, | re-
member, did not once raise his head
from his hands, or take one farewell