The Sauk Centre herald. (Sauk Centre, Stearns County, Minn.) 1886-current, 1886-11-04
STORY.
THE BAR GHOST.
CHARLES H. ROSS.

CHARLES H. ROSS.
whatever, "said the new barmaid,
pausing in the middle of polishiRe a
tumbler, sis that strange smell?"
"Mercy on us!'' gasped the other
maid: Edo you notice it too? Hush
l-listen!"
They were alone together in the
bar of an old.fasllioned tavern up a
court out of the strand. 1t was the
twilight hour, and the gas had not
ret been lit. The landlord was out,
the barman in the parlor taking a
nap before his tea-time. There were
no customers present.
Observation-Disclosures the girl,
and they both listenes; and then the
death-like stiffness of some sixty
seconds was broken by a sound
go close to them that they both
started backz-a deep-drawn sigh.
"John! John!'' the other barmaid
cried shrilly "come and light the
gas. We can't stop in this CHASTITY,
ghostly place in the dark. In fact,
shan't stop much longer anywhere
hereabeuts. Who would2 How
many changes have you had in this
house, 1 should like to know, the
last three months?"
"Well," said John, candidly, eve
done pretty middlin' that way. But
there; it's only pack Of silly wo-
men would BE scared to death by a
thing like that. For my, part pay
no iced to it. Notas l think his
ghosts an attraction to a bar-not
more nor he was himself, poor old
chap, when in the flesh /; but that
mightn't have been all his fault
neither. What 1 say is, let bygones
be bygone.3 and if a party's 60; a
grave of his own, it's only fit and
proper her ought to stay there, and
not be crawling about, spelling an
other party's business"
And while thus delivering himself
of his sentim ents, John Pctman cast
a searching eye into the corners
nearest him, as though he was not
far from expecting that the subject
of his discourse might be propped up
in one of them in half muddled
condtion-wlth 4 sudden white face
and heavy, bloodshot eyes gazing in.
to vacancy as in life, day after day
and night after night. you might al
mostany time have found him.
1 said corners. There are corners
and to spare in this old tavern--cor-
ners in which, at monday, or when
all possible gas is ablaze, grey shad-
ows Turk. Byond the bar is a long,
low--ceilinged, irregularly shaped
room, crossed by heavy rafters, which
by day is so gloomily mysterious
that the presence of slumbering Gus
toners CAN only be discovered by
diligent search round angles and be-
hind screens. Here on the hat pegs
flutter provincial play bills seeming
ly put there for the purpose of de-
monstrating beyond doubt that the
man to whom here IN London pre-
judice assigns"Fraucesco, a Soldier"
may some day play the Danish Prince
himself--say at the L. r. Slocum
Podger--if be take the theater for
the night, and pay expenses.
Truth to tell, the tavern Is a h ouse
Of call of second. class actors, and un-
lucky actors, and actors resting
more or less restlessly. The land
lord has been an actor. and bettered
himself. Sometimes of a night, in
the od6-sbaded room, he will, when
he can find a listener, fight his bat
ties (Bosworth and Waterleo) Ger
again but he looks back without re-
greet on the histrionic career he
abandoned for buxom widow with
snug business-th tavern at which
now he is alone in command.
Amongst his listeners had been
often numbered One-play Potter, the
man who had left his ghost behind
Not that Potter was ii good listener,
He was, inded, given to cynical com.
ments on the exploits of others. Ii
was hard to pose even as second
rate hero beneath Potter's searching
scathing criticism. They called HIN
One-Play Potter because lie was tbs
author Of one enormously successful
piece, out of which he himself had
made nothing, and he had since, af
ter missing many chances offere,
him, subsidized into Il sort Of fixture, 1
cornerful of lethargic humanity, 1
fast deadening intellect, that yor
might have found, us / have said. al
most any time at that bar. Now
and then, though he would rous.
himself into almost energy, and llat
been known, on one occasion, ever
to bran dish aloft a brown paper
parcel with an air of triumph.
do you see this, sir? Do you Sc,
thisp' he demanded.
| "What is it?' asked a low coined,
merchant looking on. "Had ZEN
!, iialf-soled2'
| The parcel contained the two frs
} acts of play number two.
"The ghost again to-night?' sait
the landlord, impatiently, when tn
barmaids had told their story
That's three times this week
what's it mean? Such tomfooler
r. Blythe way. Miss Robinson
kindly hand me down that bottle
|, that one in the corner. Don't dus
. it. The cork's dusty, isn't it2 Yo1
haven't served any one with any
~s.