The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1888-06-23
THE GHOSTS WILL.

least that was the opinion of many
people for a long while, and nc
doubt is yet. If you care to heal
the story | will tell it. And first,
glance out of the window behinc
you and tell me what you think O
that bit of property yonder. The
handSomest house ard the hand.
som st garden in the place; piece
of woodland behind it worth a for.
tune, and the town growing up about
it fast.
When | first came here and went
into business for myself, young fel-
low whose beard was just beginning
to grow, old Mr. Busch lived in that
place, with a couple OF servants. He
was an old man of ninety, but looked
no more than sixty. He rode about
the country, gave big dinners to his
gentlemen friends, and dressed elc
gantly.
'Itwas not thought-being a miser
that he had become so rich. He
came of wealthy family, and legacy
after legacy had been left to him.
He had married, but his wife died,
and SO did his only daughter He
never thought of marrying gain,
but he took his nephew to live with
him; and everybody believed that he
would make him bis heir. But the
nephew was no time server, and did
as he pleased; and somehow or other
they had a falling out.
There was a sneaking fellow
named Potter about the house good
deal, regular Uriah Heep, perpet-
ually fawning on old Busch, and al
ways so 'umble.' He told lies about
young Allan, | think, and made his
uncle think him a reprobate; and
when the young man went down to
New York and became an actor, the
uncle was led to believe that he had
gone to the dogs. And now it was
we'll known that a will had been
made in favor of Potter, and that the
nephew was left without a penny.
That had been a good many
years before, and Patter was waiting
for old Mr.. Busch's shoes yet. The
nephew was a man Of forty years.
1t doesn't take long, after all, to
change from young to middle-aee in
this world, and Potter was quite
grizzled and had lost most of his
teeth. Old Busch had never lost one
yet, and his cheeks were like pip
pins. For all any one could see,
Potter might die first. but he had
lived at the mansion for twenty years,
and had all he needed and more than
he deserved, and no doubt thought
himself a lucky fellow.
"No one knows what the day may
bring forth. One morning, TO. the
great surprise of everybody in town,
a servant from the mansion was seen
rushing in hot haste for DR.. Dock
weed, and soon the news spread
through the village that old Mr..
Busch was dying. Potter went about
trying to look mournful, and lots OF
people were really sorry. l was,
though l had never spoken to the
old gentlemen; he was such a hale,
happy, bright old fellow. The first
day he was worse; the next better,
then worse again. Then they said
he might live; then he was uncon-
scious.
ut was just after this report, late
in the evening, that | sat here, ex
actly where | am sitting now, quite
alone, when the door opened and |
saw a figure enter leaning on cane.
1t was great surprise to me to see
the next minute that it was old Mr..
Busch. He was in dressing gown
and slippers and had a night cap on,
one of those pointed affairs that old
gentlemen used to wear; I'd seen
him looking out of his bedroom VIM
dow in it many time.
"'Good Heaven, Mr.. Busch
cried.
"'You know me, | see he an
swered, in hollow, rafting voice,
and you look astonished.
81 thought you too i'll to leave
your room, sir, l answered. I'm
glad to see you better
Don't waste time in compliments,
Mr.. Van Buskirk, said the old gem
tlemen. 4 have very little left, and
l want to get back to the house there
before they know.
"Can you make a short will for
me that will stand?"
"'Yes, sir, said |.
"'Write this, then,' said Mr..
Busch, that | leave everything |
possess to my nephew, Allan Busch,
my sister Ada's only child. l have
made one will. | want to retrieve il
by will of later date. That's my
object; you know my wishes Go
to work. Go to work
He fell back in his chair. | set
to work. When the will was written
| left my office a moment and called
in my rieighbor, the hair dresser and
his apprentice as witnesses. Both
knew Mr.. Bush well. They stared
at him, and locked at each other,
and paid their respects in faltering
voices. The old man seemed to
grow weaker and weaker every mo-
ment. He signed his name in hand
that trembled so that the letters
were barely legible, but we all saw
him sion If. and when all was done