The Portland daily press., 1893-11-22
A GHOST STORY.

One morning the head of our firm re-
marked: "Mr. Nelson'-my name, by the
way, is John Nelson, and q very good and
bold name it isl want you to go up to
Greenville and take these dispositions in the
Shindler case. Catch the night train back
or stay until morning, as you prefer"
Many people go to Greenville once. No
body goes second time if he can help it. I
remembered in vague sort of way that
Greenville had come into notoriety for a
day or two few years before through
reason of a hotel fire in which at least one
man had persisted SO successfully as to JUS
tify the newspaper use of the word holo-
caust. However, this need not alarm me,
as | intended to return on the night ex-
press l like to travel at night. There is
such a comforting, ghost dispelling sound
in the SHORES OF my fellow passengers.
Fate was against me. My business in
deed was quickly and easily dispatched,
and at O'Clock was at the station, only
to learn that o serious washout was report
ed up the road and that all trains had been
abandoned for the night. There was no
help for it, and back went to the hotel,
which, suggestively enough, was called the
Phoenix. The landlord took cheerful view
of the situation, as was perhaps natural.
He gave me the best drink at the bar, which
was bad enough, and the best room in the
house, which was not Sc bad.
I am a light sleeper-anothsr result of
nervous organization-and the circum-
stances under which was sleeping in
strange bed in strange town were not
likely to deaden my slumbers. What awoke
me cannot say, but my first recollection
is that Of sitting up in bed, holding my pis-
tol in my hand and looking with consider
able astonishment at the dim outline of a
man apparently slowing away clothing in
great haste in an ordinary gripsack. That
the man was burglar and that he was
taking understandable liberties with my
possessions had not the slightest doubt.
My calmness under such trying conditions
surprised me. l remember experiencing
actual pleasure in cooking and aiming nv
revolver. The click of the lock alarmed
him. He turned hastily and said in tone
so thin that it seemed to come from great
distance:
Here, don't shoot, pleasep'
Enough light came through the window
from a lamp across the street to enable me
to see the fellow moro closely as he turned.
He was appallingly thin-the merest shad-
ow, in fact-with sunken cheeks and the
glowing spectral eyes that Lena had told me
about 30 years before. I saw that he was
no match for me physically and it was plain
that he was unarned. So I said faceti-
ously:
"You are not built for your calling, nv
friend. You would do better as a ghost
than a burglar"
And the reply came mournfully and hol-
low, II am ghost"
You'll excuse me, said the ghost, eff /
go right on with my packing-but time
flies"
'Pardon the Guinness of the question:"
I answered, feeling under the pillow for
my watch, ''but in the pressure of time are
you packing up any of my things by mis-
take?"
IF you knew anything at all about spir-
it's" said the ghost, carefully brushing and
folding coat, ''you would know that they
are strictly and invariably honest and were
never known to appropriate any article not
belonging to them"
Thanks said I, considerably relieved
by the assurance. "Now may 1 ask who
you are and to what am indebted for this
unexpected pleasure?"
The ghost glided over to the washstand,
gathered up toothbrush and a cake of
soap and tossed them into the bag. Then
he answered:
SIT doesn't matter who I am. l was
Richard Barnard, and all of me that was
mortal was burned in the fire that de-
stroyed the Metropolitan hotel on this spot
four years ago. You may have heard of
me- l see that you have. Pardon me if
keep on with my work"
And to my amazement he picked I'D a
typewriter and threw it out of the window
[ listened for the crash, and hearing moth
ing said:
81 have heard of you, Richard, in des-
ultory and unsatisfactory way ard should
like to hear more of you. Could you favor
me with the particulars which escaped the
newspapers? You'll find a cigarette, if you
smoke, in that case on the bureau. How
happens it" asked, ''that you return to
earth in this systematic way?"
That's the disagreeable part Of it, You
see that after all my care in looking after
my property I entirely forgot my accident
insurance policy and left it on the bureau
you see it there. Of course it was burned
up, and my family had nothing in the way
of compensation for my death For this
outrageous carelessness / am compelled to
return night after night to go over the har-
rowing scenes of my combustion"
But why don't you take the policy at
once, now that it is in plain sight, and make
off and end the matter and so back to your
tibia and parietal bone like we'll ordered
corpse?"
That's just it. can't. Even with my
spiritual discernment must work out the
stupid instincts Of mortality Don't you
suppose that a spirit with my keen percep-
lions recognizes the idiocy of pitching a
typewriter out of the Window Do you
think that ghost, thing purely Of mind,