The Forrest City times., 1893-06-23

subject was dropped.
 But another one was evolved from it later in the evening. when Helen and her lover, Walter Harter. and visiting young couple disappeared to the library, leaving their elders basking in the fire light, so grateful on the spring evening, and telling to each other collection of ghost stories, such as people who don't believe in ghosts can always tell better than those ,who are more credulous. There was Aunt Lavinda, from La Porte, Ind, who told a story current in the family ever since the first part of the century, concerning her great-aunt, whose son came home at night from journey, entered her room, took off his coat, which was wet, hung it over a chair, wrung the water out of his hair, looked at her steadily and intently, but did not speak, leaving the room finally without breaking the silence. The next morning the mother sent to his room to waken him, but he was not there, nor had his bed been slept in. An hour later came the news that he was drowned at the very time that his mother had seen him, while crossing ford on his way home.
 F That was merely coincidence, said a fin de siecle matron who was present; ''his mother dreamed it all, of course" II should find that as hard to account for as the ghost" said cousin, looking over her shoulder
 ''l should hate to think there were no ghosts remarked a Virginia branch of the family; I'm sure 1 saw one once in our gallery. It was dressed in white and strode up and down just like real ghosts do on the stage Our dog howled and the lights all burned blue"
 II sat up with Aunt Polly Williams the night before she died and heard three cracks of a whip right over the looking glass. And they broke the glass into three pieces" related an aunt.
 This had been told so often that the original number, ''one crack of the whip had been increased to three,. but no one noticed that-the ghostly fact remained.
 Did yOu ever account for seeing-your father after his death?" asked one of the relatives of her hostess.
 No, never. He had been dead asyear on that night when I went to the hall clock to see if it had been wound up. You know the clock-one of those high ones? It has been in the family for generations. It's up in the nursery now. As put my hand on the door to open it saw father standing close by me with a smile on his face, as if some. thing pleased him. I was frightened and ran from the hall, but afterward 1 looked into the clock and found deed to some land we were dispossessed of, hidden there. 1 suppose, really, only imagined seeing him. You know l don't believe it was really father, but it was strange it should lead to finding that paper"
 Another coincidence" said the fin de siecle matron. When my ghost walks in with its head under one arm l shall look for rational explanation of the phenomena"
 Talking about ghosts" said an elderly widow relative, speaking in weird, mysterious voice, did I ever tell you how my first husband appeared to me when I was thinking about marrying the man who was afterward my second-did ever speak of it?"
 "A hundred times to my certain knowledge" said the fin de siecle ma tron under her breath.
 If never did, it was because don't believe in ghosts myself, but that was just one of the things couldn't under stand. I was sitting in the parlor just as if it might be now, only was alone. There came three raps-"
 Mercy. goodness. what is that?' No one responded; no one moved. and for that time, at least, the ghost of the widows first usband was laid uncere- moniously-something ghostlv was hap pening under the very face and eyes of ] the party.
 A puff of cold air ran through the room with such startling rapidity that the wax candles flared and went out, leaving only the light of the full moon through the lace-draped windows, mingling with the flickering freight in strange, spectral glare, which was focused upon the square of velvet car pet in front of the portrait they had been examining that very evening.
 But what was this? Had the picture come to life and stepped out of its frame? The startled group at the fire side could see only a shadow there that paled and fiickered, but stepped bodily and audaciously into the light. Was it the semblance of the portrait or was it really the beautiful form and face of that woman of century past, wear