The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1886-04-10
Select STORY.
THE GHOST OF MORCAR'S TOWER.
From Blackicoods Magazine.

From BLackWood's Magazine.
For three generations the direct heir to
the estate of Morcar's Tower has not sue
ceeded to the property. The last owner,
Squire Fairfax, was a hale, jovial fellow
and had three stalwart sons, yet none of
them lived to possess the place.
The eldest was killed when Clyde's army
relieved Lucknow, the second fell victim
to the Jungle fever that haunts the moist
rice-felds of Central India, and the young
est-it gives me choking sensation in my
throa. even now when I recall his fate.
The hero of the Playing Fields, stroke
of the eight-oar in the most closely con-
tested race that Oxford ever won, he was a
favorite everywhere, and the pride of his
home. l can see him yet with his laugh
ing brown eyes, standing up against the
crack left-handed bowler, who came assured
of an easy victory for Stepton over the
eleven of fStepton-in-the-Fens. There were
some of us who thought when he carried
his bat that greater triumphs must be in
store for that ready hand, that watchful eye
and cherry spirit.
A year later, when pleasure-boat went
down in squall, the only hope left us was
that he had not suffered long, for there was
dark bruise ON the pale forehead when
the body was washed ashore. His father
never recovered from the blow, but died soon
after his boy, and thus 1t came to pass that
l, distant cousin, found myself the owner
of Morcar's Tower.
The curse, if curse there still be, will be
again fulfilled, for no children of mine will
ever brighten the gloomy chambers of my
new home. 1t matters not how [ know
this so certainly, for it is not my own story
that am about to tell Suffice it to say
that the joy was crushed out Of my life ere
was thirty, so that abandoned my chosen
career and hid myself in lonely cottage,
thinking that in the quiet life of student
l might find solace for my grief. When
first | heard that the old Tower was mine
was unwilling to remove from the abode
to which | had already grown accustomed;
but on further reflection decided that the
effort must be made and that must not
shrink from my new duties on account of
the melancholy associations connected with
the place. To the Tower therefore went,
taking with me the treasured volumes that
were my only friends.
For obvious reasons | cannot give the
true names of the localities [ am about to
describe, but they will be easily recognized
by any one belonging to the neighborhood
who may chance to peruse this tale.
Morcar's Tower was situated in one of
the fattest districts in England. In old
days, before cannon were in use, it must
have been a valuable stronghold, for it was
the surrounded by reedy fen full of dam
gerous and unsuspected depths, and only
practised guides could find the narrow paths
that threaded through the grass and rushes.
Gradually, however, the fen-land was re-
claimed, though the drainage was extremely
difficult, and canal, more sluggish than
any have seen elsewhere, was cut across
from the Ayder to the Deene. The soil
was rich and paid well, and at last little
town grew up known as Stepton-in-the-
Fens, to distinguish it from Stepton prop
er, or, as it was sometimes called, Stepton-
on.the- -Wold. This wold was nothing but
a rise of the land on the west of the Tower,
and would hardly have been remarked in a
less level country.
The tower itself was more properly a
keep, square and grim, built of dark red
stone that took purplish hue when wet.
Round it was deep moat that on three
sides had been hastily and carelessly filed
up. Yellow hawkweed and the struggling
ragged-robin grew in profusion on the un-
equal surface of the earth that had been
thrown loosely into it, and l wondered
greatly that my cousin should have allowed
this disorderly fringe of weed to remain
round the house. l remembered, however,
that when my cousin Frank had once pro-
posed some alteration his father had re-
piled, with unusual sharpness, that he did
not choose to meddle with the moat. On
the fourth side the ditch was its original
depth, and wooden bridge, with high
fantastic railing, crossed it where the draw
bridge had formerly been. The walls of
the Tower were enormously thick and the
interior was consequently somewhat sombre.
There was plenty of heavy old-fashioned
furniture, but there were few modern ele-
gancies in the house. In the room that
had been Harry's there we're two new easy
chairs, some engravings after Landseer and
some pewters and cups, relics of the foot
races and sculling matches of his Eton and
Oxford days.
On the ground floor were the drawing
and dining rooms, with two smaller apart
ments; the bedrooms were upstairs, and the
servants-I had but three-lived in some
newer offices quite at the back.
/ myself chose to inhabit curious tur-
ret that projected from one corner of the
Tower, partly because it was light and
cheerful, partly because had used it when
visiting my cousins in our boyheod. The
round shoulder of the void cut us off early
from the evening sun, and from the turret
windows / could watch the light being
stolen from our Fens by the advancing