The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1886-06-10
A REAL GHOST.

Wnere Two or Lnre6 small customer
needed attention. My business with
them was somewhat delayed, so that
had few minutes to reach the station
only to learn that the train had jusi
gone. The last car, in fact, was disap
pearing around the curve, and winlzed a
red eye at me from the rear platform,
while from between the distant hills the
locomotive shrieked back its derision al
my discontinue. was out of breath
and out of temper, and there was nc
train until 10 O'clock the next morning.
So picked up my valise, and got into a
shabby stage, inscribed with tarnished
gilt letters, "Loderville House."
The supper was good. But this adjec-
tive, though applying well enough to the
main body of the repast, does but scant
justice to the desert. This crown and
| glory of the meal was a pie, a mince
pie, compounded by the landlady
herself. When l think of the worse
than worthless limitation of this noble
American dish that haunt at every rail-
road restaurant and appears unabashel
at frst-class hotel tables, invading even
the sacred domain of home, to impose
upon the digestion of the very elect, and
then recall the memory of this magnifi-
| cent pie with its delicious depths and
delicately blended favors, 1 do not
wonder that my prudence forsook me.
orgetting that pie at night never agreed
With me, and that mince pie never did,
] swallowed section after section, regard
less of consequences.
After supper 1 looked over the local
newspaper, and examined the county
I hor fIeax caf
| down before the fireplace and listened to
the gossip of the idIers who are the in
variable attaches of every village tavern.
There was much discussion concerning
@crops, and the coming election, together
with the dOctrinal unsoundness of Par
son Wobley, and the worldly minded
ness of Mrs. Parson Wobley. Then the
misdeeds of certain moonshiners was
an absorbing theme.
| By and by, a long and melancholy
featured young man made his way in
between the chairs. His brow was dark,
as were his eyes, and his hair was also
dark and long. Though scarcely speak
ing a word, l recognized him at once as
the village genius. He did not come in
from outside, but apparently lived in the
house. Then a dozen greetings went up
from the circle, and another familiar ap-
partition was framed in the doorway.
| Sam Lawson, may as well call him,
Sam at any rate was his name, village
historian, annalist, and authority for
every local happening twenty miles
around. Without care, and without
hurry, he slouched leisurely in, and
stretched his long limbs in the seat
which was promptly made for him be-
fore the blaze. 1t took him long time
to answer, in his slow, deliberate fashion,
all the questions which were put to him.
He had been up the milk-crik way a
helpen' Widder Baker for a spell. Pull
ing little package from his pocket, he
said: Gentlemen. there's some articles
in this paper which many of you well
remember, though its nigh on to thirty
years sence the owner of them was
amongst us. 1 alIude to the late Judge
Jedwood."
Judge Jedwood!" chorused twenty
voices at once. "What about him? Tell
usl"
"You all well know, gentleman" con-
tinued Sam, unheeding the clamor, show
the judge stopped three days at this hotel
before proceedin' on his last journey to
body, excepting them as hadn't ought,
knew that he carried $500 in gold sewed
up in his clothes when he set out ON
hossback. Old Daddy Appleton was the
last who seen him ride into Bakers
Notch Not a soul ever see him ride
out"
Here a sunbuTnt farmer broke in.
"Why, that there Notch has been haunted
ever sence. don't care as how Parson
Wobley says it's onscriptural to believe
in ghosts. Don't ketch me round that
there again after dark, can tell ye," he
pursued, with much energy. Il knowed
1 see a spook the night druv home from
Cap'n Beasley's."
Guess it was some of Cap. Beasley's
sperrits then, 1" retorted one of the younger
skeptics.
"Sperrits or spooks, don't want to see
no more of 'em. Didn't Jim Stafford,
who was TUX up on suspicion, move
away from the Notch because he never
could look out of his window nights
without a seein' white fgger of the
Judge, swallow-tail coat, brass buttons,
and all, a standin' out in the woods"
Here a curious light appeared in the
eye of the Genius, and 1 was relieved to
see him almost disappear behind the
chimney jamb.
Gentleman" resumed Sam, impress
sively, "allusion has been made to the
blue coat with the brass buttons which
the judge always wore. Them ten but
tons with the American eagles on 'em-
you all remember 'em, l dare say"
Everybody who was old enough did.
"Them ten buttons" Sam continued,
"were always polished up bright, and
looked like gold pieces. They don't look
so any more, for here they are" and he
unrolled the paper.
The excitement following this disclos-
ure was quite indescribable, and the ten
mildewed, rusty disks of metal were
eagerly passed from hand to hand amid
questions and EXPLANATIONS. The faint
outlines of an eagle were imperfectly
traced on each one. Everybody implored
Sam to explain, which he did, as soon as
they gave him chance.
"Waal, you see, Widow Bakers grand
sons were stoppin' up at the Notch farm,
and tell We, when it comes to raisin' the
devil generally, it would beputty hard to
find the beat of them ere two youngsters.
Yesterday they was a-playin' down at
the erik, and all to wanst they set up g
screech, and up they cum through the
brush yellin' and howlin' as if tribe of
injuns were behind 'em. was a chop
PIN wood, and looked up and see the
boys runnin' like mad, and smoke
comm up from the Hollow.
What have you been up to now, you
young varmits, says 1, "A settin' fire to
the wood againY
oh, it's wusser nor fire, blubbered
little Pete, and then howled again.
WAL, come along then,' said ],
shoulderin' the axe; anything wusser
than fire and Injuns must be putty bad
Il walked down to the little erik that
runs through the Notch, and there, sure
enough, at the end of big tree that lays
across it the boys had kindled a fire.
WAL, gentlemen, my knees did knock