The Princeton union., 1900-07-19

Testing every step before trusting
my whole weight upon it, lest the tim
bers rotted by the dampness might
give way and precipitate me headlong
to the depths below, I went slowly
down into the Egyptian darkness. My
hand rested on the rude balustrade all
! the way, and when it came to the end
| knew was standing on the last step.
| I am probably no more of coward
| than most men, and had never been
afraid of darkness; but this was the
blacl1est night I had ever been i'm
mersed in. Really there was a lesser
| degree of darkness when closed my
eyes, for then the sensations of the
glowing western sky still fingered.
Standing there on the bottom step, an
| unaccountable fear came over me.
Probably it has been perceived from
this history that impatience regarding
| things which seem to have a bearing
on the supernatural is one of my char
| acteristics. To feel sensation of fear
| when there is no apparent reason for
it, causes disgust at what I consider
an objectionable weakness.
So then I determined to chastise my
cowardice by keeping on and explor-
| ing that dark hole. I would not allow
| myself to beat an ignominious retreat
simply because sensation of fear in
| Clined me to such course.
| I took the last step, and my feet
rested on what seemed to be a loose
plank, which gave way a few inches
under my weight. From the feeling
of insecurity this brought to me,
thrust out my foot to feel my way be-
fore proceeding farther.
Before I could take a step forward,
however, from somewhere in that tomb
like darkness, in deep, solemn tones,
sounded a voice:
"Another step means death. Pause
before you take it!''
To say that I was simply startled
would not be true. was paralyzed
with fear. Ny hair bristled up, my
heart began a trip-hammer action, and
the blood surged to my head in fierce
tide.
Back, for your life!" again sounded
the voice, this time in sterner tones.
"Back, for
But stayed not to hear more. Never
had that stairway been ascended in
greater haste. I fairly tumbled up,
using my hands as we'll as my feet.
Pausing not to close the cook-house
door, I made a wild rush for my room,
intent on the one only purpose of
escaping from the unknown terror OF
that horrible voice. I closed my bed
room door after I had entered, and
bolted it. Then I threw myself into
the nearest chair and covered my face
with my hands.
For some time I remained so, limp
powerless and completely unnerved.
The night had fallen when I agair
looked up, and my room was shroudeC
in gloom. Darkness was horrible; so
staggering to my feet, I fumbled about
lit the two lamps and the candle
which were in the room. The window
was open. I closed the shutters ant
; bolted them. The door leading into th<
parlor where my grandfather's body
had reposed in the coffin waiting fo1
burial, so many years ago, was als<
open, and in my wrought-up imagina
ton specters of the dead seemed to pas:
before it. There was no bolt to thi:
door and, not feeling satisfied in having
it simply latched, by great effort
showed a tall chest of drawers against it
Even thus barricaded there was n,
feeling of safety. There was no know
> ing what fearful mystery might COM
up through the floor from the walled
up cellar beneath.
The experience just passed through
was enough to frighten anyone. Bu
: it was not that alone which caused suc]
q complete decentralization of my nerve
and SO absolute a terrorism of all M,
2 faculties. There was something NOR
. than the demonstration just encoun
I tered, something from within myself.
Looking back to the time now real
ize how true it is that often comm;
events cast their shadows before.
l. After awhile I began to realize NOR
y and more that the intensity of the fea
+ which had swept over me was nc
= wholly caused by the sound of tn
i voice or the attendant circumstance
= secuted all idea of a supernatural or
gin; but, then, what was it?
The season of the year had arrive
:, when the farmers had about complete
- the garnering of an abundant harves
and therefore a feeling of conten
y abounded. The countryside was over
~ run by tramps, the members of the dus
~ ~ ty fraternity we'll knowing that foo
% was never denied hungry man by til
well-provisioned farmers. Perhaps til
~ cook-house cellar was rendezvous fc
p a number of tramps. Twas so eager t
arrive at some explanation of the ever
r which would have wholly materialist
~ bearing that the absurdity of ma
seeking a resting-place in a damp fo'
y, cellar, when a much more comfortab
-. bed might be secured out at the bar
=, amid the hay and straw, did not stril
y y me. ..
- ~ Then, too, the place would undoub
~ edly lose degree of horror if lig]
" was introduced. So, seeing that n