Nevada County picayune., 1890-04-30
----------------z-l7-
 4 STRANGE VlS!T..

What l have to say is not fiction, but fact. The heroine of my strange story'-and no less true than strange-died many years ago. Most of her generation have followed her to that land the inhabitants of which may or may not revisit ours in visible guisc. The Lord of the quick and the dead alone knows how this may be. There is no reason why l should not put into print what many of her contemporaries heard from her own lips, not only at the date of the mysterious occurrence that shadowed her life, but when q half-century had softened the grisly outlines of the horror, and she could contemplate it in perspective almost with calmness, although never with awe.
 l, Nancy Barksdale, who write this, was girl of eighteen when, at the close of May day fifty years agone, my fathers carriage set me at the door of my dear friend, Augusta Deane, in Cartersville, Va. Car iarSy;Ilo ,v.p ,bon ouJ mot, bo pov an uninteresting village, struggling leisurely along the banks of the James river, to which it owed it's be- ing and continued life. We had pitied Augusta Elicit, the belle of two Richmond seasons, not because she married Frank Deane, a prom ising young lawyer, but for having to live in the muddy, tame little town. The wedding had taken place in De- cember, and this was my first visit to her new abode.
 It was q small, white cottage, set back about twenty yards from the street, which differed in nothing from country highway except that there were houses on and near it. l had just time to observe that the Deane cottage was a story and a half high, with dormer windows in the roof; that it was neat and newly painted that the wicket gate in the front palings was overarched by a bower of honeysuckle, and the front porch overrun with multiflora rose tree, now in aflluent bloom-when Augusta ran out through the open door and down the gravel walk to the carriage.
 She was trinc thinner than when l had last seen her, but animated and joyous, with vivacity that did not abate while she attended me to her own chamber on the first floor, pour ing out salutations, queries and in- terjections in her old frank, impetu- ous way.
 "You must stay in here with me until Frank comes home," she said, helping me to lay aside my travelling garb. "He went to Richmond day before yesterday and may not get back before Saturday"
 Your first separation, isn't t?" asked I, struck by something not quite natural in her manner.
 "Yes. He was obliged to go-on business" adding the last word as it might be an after-thought.
 While she spoke she was rear ranging some clothing hung in press to make room for that l had laid off. Her hands wavered, and she kept her face turned from me.
 With the slight (and insufferable) touch of superior scorn of fancy frce-as-yet maiden for the sentiment al feelings of "young married folks, 1 feigned to overlook her emotion. She might pine at the heart for the absent mate, but she did me the jus tice to be sincerely delighted at my coming. l would content myself with that for the present, and toler- ate weakness peculiar to her posi- ton; so l made talk of city news and the journey, taking pains not to ask question, until presently she showed me a sunny face, that was the prettier and sweeter for the mist, which was not quite dew, lingering upon her eyelashes. We supped en tete-a.tcte, and sat out upon the porch until bedtime, watching the moon rise, and mount--the crystal white light driving back the shadows from the wet grass and ribbon-like paths winding away into the shrub bery; enjoying the scent-freighted air throbbing and cooling before the .lf tal