The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1897-06-01
Written for The Progressive Farmer.1
That Terrible Ghost.
BY III. POE.

grouped around DIR. Rankin's cheer.
full fire relating anecdotes of various
natures. DR.. Rankin alone remained
silent. Absorbed in some scientific
work, he did not take part in the gen
eral merriment.
Say, Rankin, I think it is your
turn" said some one.
Rather hear you," replied Rankin,
and continued his reading.
"Well," began DR.. Rankin's viva.
cious partner, DR.. Rolfe, III tell you
about his seeing a ghost"
mo you WON'T" rejoined DR.. Ran
kin. "You villianI I told you to keep
that,
"Oh, come, come" saba bystander,
ian honest confession is good for the
soul"
"Well, it wasn't good for my soul
when I confessed to Rolfe; he can't
keep a secret. But 1 will tell it any
how"
And DR.. Rankin began:
TN the first place, you see I was born
in the South, and the slaves literally
stuffed my brain with ghost tales and
weird, uncanny fables they surely
were. The scenes of a majority of
these hair raising stories, was an old
diIapidated cabin situated about a mile
from my fathers house. In Revolu-
tionary days a British Captain had
been killed there. Subsequently, the
~lifeless and mangled body of a peddler
was found on the sill. The house
speedily bee anne known as the ''Han'ted
House" and the superstitious denizens
of the country studiously avoided it.
In fact, I, myself, was a little awed by
it's deserted aspect, and invariably
postponed all nocturnal visits which
involved a visit by it.
"That was before I became a doctor.
With the reception Of my diploma, l
speedily parted company with all such
decisions.
Now begins my story: About nine
o'clock one September night I was
awakened by a loud knock at my door,
and the tremulous voices Of a fright.
ened negro.
ooh, Mars Doctahl Mars Rankin
he shrieked, 'L9mmeinl Fo' de Lawd's
sake, femme inP
Recognizing the voice of Jim Dane,
the erstwhile slave of Squire Dane,
a neighbor, l opened the door and the
negro leaped in. Like a whipped hound
he crouched in q corner The express.
ion of his face reminded me of nothing
so much as of some beast hunted to
his den.
Occasionally, he peered furtively
out the window. His eyes we're ilated.
His mouth twitched nervously, and
from his painting I judged he had been
running rapidly.
ITO all my queries he simply prayed:
'Lawd hep mel hep mel hep mel
docs yer see him3' he asked me.
Does yer, massa7'
"fSee WHAT I inquired.
"'Oh, de ghos', de ghos',' he replied,
UO BASA y gOA AHO OA0 O1A OAA AoASo y
mighty sick, 1 thought I'd cum by the
Ha'nted House, 'kase its de nighes,' and
den-God knows its so, Mars Doctah,
and den Iheerd an awful vice, and dat
dar .ha'nt come. He LAX ter got me-
mighty nigh-but God spared me dis
time.'
He was terribly in earnest, but I
laughed scornfully.
"'Oh, hits thar hits thar de deb
bill put dat ha'nt thar. But I don't go
by no mo'-not dis niggah.'
TRUE to his word, the negro re-
turned by a different road, while I set
out by the Haunted House to attend
on his former master.
1.-THE Regro's terror seemed conta-
gious; at any rate, 1 felt strangely ner-
vous. As I rode on only the monoto
nous sound of my horses hoof and the
plaintiff wall of a whippoorwill broke
the stiffness Of the night. From a pine
above the murdered Captains grave
an owl emitted doleful boots. As I
passed the grave I felt a cold chill
run down my back.
suddenly, while in this nervous
state, 1 heard a wild. blood curdling
noise, and a slowly moving figure,
CHASTITY and white, looking partly like
man, partly like beast, appeared before
me.
AT a furious rate my horse plunged
forward, and ere long he left me, in
dulging in some athletic amusement,
cutting somersauIts. I believe. This