Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1893-06-15
A GHOSTLY EPISODE.
It Might Have Been Explained by
Helen and Her Lover.

They were very comfortable party
of ten or dozen adults visiting in an
old ancestral house, and all nearly or
remotely connected or related. And it
often happened that the conversation
took turn to include those deceased
ancestors whose portraits hung on the
walls, and whose possessions were un-
der the same roof with themselves.
sit seems like sacrilege," their host
ess was saying, as they sat in the twi-
light glimmer, between hearthlight
and daylight, in the old-fashioned draw
ing room, "but Helen has about per-
suaded me to let her have her great
grandmother's wardrobe. I could
never think myself of disturbing those
things which my mother gave me as q
sacred bequest. But Helen declares
that the time has come when those old
gowns can be worn without remodeling,
and fancy she would be rather proud
of them as heirlooms."
81 should be afraid the ghost of the
owner would look over my shoulder"
remarked one of the cousins present, in
an awesome tone.
''Oh, if it comes to that, we are all
ghosts" said another one; 1--WE carry
our ghosts with us. But as the good
danes cannot, even as ghosts, wear
their old garments, why should we be
denied that privilege"
II tell Helen she will only have the
clothes, not the air of one born to them.
My grandmother was a belle and a
beauty. She had-well, there she is;
you can all see her and judge for your
Selves" and Mrs. King led the way
down the long room into the vista of
faint darkness to the portrait. A can
delabrum was lighted, and in Tat pale
glimmer they saw the beautiful face of
a girl of nineteen, with the shoulders
and waist of an ideal figure. Her fair
cheeks and rosy lips, her naughty chm
with dimple set in it, her large, lus-
trous eyes. were framed in q mass of
such curls as were worn in that day.
They hung OYER her lovely shoulders
down to her small waist.
q, ''There," said Helen, in an eager
voice, 'look at that peach-colored silk
f1ounce to the waist; see the puffed
sleeves and the capes-oh! isn't it de-
icious, just as they are wearing them
now, and it's upstairs in an old mahog-
any trunk, packed in camphor! Great
grandmamma wore it rs bride. And
those lace mitts and the dear little
handkerchief bag on her arm, and the
medallion picture of great-grandpa
with his hair in queue oh! it
would be too lovely! And l." she con-
cluded,. with pardonable pride, ''an
said to resemble her."
'You do" said her mother; sat least
we think you look like her picture, but
you need not imagine, you presumptu-
Gus child, that you will ever be half so
beautiful"
''Not even in that dress?" queried
Helen, with an alluring smile.
81 have not fully decided that you
shall wear that dress. I have often
thought that there may be something
in the suggestion that people do re-
mot as entities?" suggested Helen's
aunt.
81 do not know. All my traditions
teach me to respect that which l can
not understand. I have often been
shocked by the unkind haste with
which the living appropriate the pos
sessions of the dead, as if they were
eager to obtain the spoils."
''We brought nothing into this world
-" began the aunt.
Don't" interrupted Helen; II take
quite another view of it. AS my great
grandmother had her day, why should
she object to me having mine? She
does not need these gowns of hers in
her present condition, and should be
pleased to know that after lying in
state for so many years they are to be
brought out by one of her descendants.
] am quite willing to run the risk of in
curing her wrath, if you will let me
have the gowns" added Helen, turning
to her mother.
Mrs. King shook her head. and the
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 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.
''That was merely coincidence, ''said
a fin de steele matron who was present;
''his mother dreamed it all, of course"
81 should find that as hard to account
for as the ghost said a c0nSin 1nOlxinoN