The Madison daily leader. [volume] (Madison, S.D.) 1890-current, 1893-06-07
THEYSAW THE GHOST

history has its haunted house and it's
story of ghostly visitants and eerie, I'M
canny sounds and sights connected with
some particular locality.
To this rule Florence, Ala, many of
whose older residences and families date
back to the days of Andrew jackson,
forms no exception. Around several of
the ivy clad mansions of the old town
hang mysteries which make them objects
of interest to the educated whites and of
terror to the ignorant and superstitious
negroes.
Humanity in every age has been eager
TO listen to the marvellous and to swal-
low the incredible upon very slight guar
antee: However, it is upon no such slen-
der testimony that our story rests.
Early in the history Of the town among
the first attracted to the locality by the
picturesque beauty of it's location above
the swift flowing Tennessee was a North
Carolinian named Richard Hunter.
Wealth in those days was counted in
the south by the acreage Of plantations
and by the number of slaves, male and
female. OF the former Richard Hunter
possessed enough for a barony and of the
latter a small regiment. !
Around the great square brick house,
with its massive pillars and wide spread
ing porches. could be seen bright and
happy black faces by the score. The
cotton fields resounded to the hoeing
songs of we'll conditioned and swarthy
feldhands, while in the quarters" not
far off pickaninnies and dogs abounded.
Richard Hunter had but one child, the
sole heiress of his acres and his wealth,
and she had just budded under the warm
chances of a southern sun into woman
hood, fresh and blooming as a wild rose.
Alice Hunter was in that period of
life where the present is SO bright that
it's glow reaches out and dominates the
future. Wealth, doting parents, gratif-
cation of every wish were hers; but above
all she had won the love of the maj Of
her choice and was happiesti in the knowl-
edge that Philip Marston's dearest hope
and highest aspiration conferred In herself.
Phil Marston, as he was known to
every one, or "Marse Phil, as the negroes
called him, was young, handsome, free
handed, free hearted, gallant and all that
went to make him an ideal lover.
In spite of strong rivalry he had won
his ladylove, and the day was set for
their marriage. Alice was only II, and
&c the wedding day was postponed until
the following year.
Suddenly in 1886 the Cherokee war
broke out. Philip Marston raised a COM
pany of rifemen from among the hearty
yeomanry of the section and Joined the
command of his friend and neighbor.
General Coffee.
Throughout the sharp and decisive
campaign that followed Marston bore a
conspicuous part for gallantry until the
final battle ON the banks of the Coosa.
Hemmed in upona peninsula, bounded,
all but a narrow neck of land, by swol-
len waters of the rivers, the chiefs and
bravest warriors of the Cherokees made
their last and desperate stand. Leading
his riiemen to a charge, Philip Marston
fell, mortally wounded.
Bad news travels quickly. 1t was on
a night of furious wind and rain hat a
hunting shirted rifeman brought the
tidings of Philip Marston's death to the
Hunter mansion.
Suddenly the great bronze knocker on
the door pealed out its summons, and
Alice, thinking that none but a lover
would brave the tempest and darkness,
few to greet him.
In silence and with bowed head the
hardy pioneer pointed to the riderless
steed which he led and extended to her a
scrap of paper on which her dying lover
had traced a few words of farewell.
Pale, calm, fearless, the ghost of her,
self, she watched the rude but loving
mourners Dear him to a chamber in the
house and lay him as if asleep upon
couch.
Day by day she faded like a lily that il
denied moisture, and within a few short
weeks her spirit fed to join his in another
world.
Since then the Hunter house has hat
many owners and many occupants, but
every year upon the anniversary Of thai
stormy night in 1887 the stroke of
horses hoofs are heard without, the oil
knocker clapgs, footsteps sound upon thu
stairs, and the occupants of the soutl
.room-the same in which Philip Mars
toms body lay-receive a ghostly visit
ant.
Ten years ago the house was owned
and occupied by a family named Thuns
den, among the members of which was
nephew named William Black, o younl
and rising member of the bar.
Early in the summer of 1912 the Thuns
dens went on their annual pilgrimage t.
one of the Virginia watering places, leav
ing young Black the sole inmate, as, &C
cording to southern custom, the servant
lived in a separate building.
Several days had gone by without in
cident until the night Of June %. Blacl
had started to go to bed, but was sud
denly seized with an u-naccoantable lone
Illness and 6istrust Of his solitary condi
tion, and upon reflection recollected tina
this was the anniversary.
Taking his hat and cane, he went il
search OF a fellow barrister of his owl
zge and with whom he was intimate, on
yohn T. Jones, who held forth upon tn
courthouse square and kept bachelor
hall over his Office.