The Lamar register., 1901-04-24

IL was Wild, raw November AFTER
noon. The sky was dark and lowering:
the wind swept down from the hills
with a mournful, wailing sound, and be-
meath the tall trees. that bent before
the gale, lay heaps of faded yellow
leaves, trodden out of all shape and
beauty by the feet that were cont-n-
ually traversing the narrow village
paths.
Upon the hills. and out on the broad
highway, the scene was dreary enough.
But the little village of Banley. with
its redtiled roofs and latticed win
dows. all aglow with the blaze of fire.
light. wore a look of cheerful comfort,
which the wintry aspect of the day
rather heightened than diminished.
Banley, lying far inland, was one of
those primitive little places where the
sound of the railway whistle had never
come. There was a branch line. it is
true, some twelve miles away, but few
of its passengers ever found their way
across the hills, and few of the inhab-
itants of Banley had seen the station
or tested the capabilities of the won
drous iron horse. Those who had
done so, having returned in safety, be-
came oracles among their neighbors,
as people of deep experience. and one
word of theirs outweighed score
from others, who had not seen the
world"
The village, like most of the kind
consisted of struggling street of cot
tageI, with gay tiower-gardens in front
and an enclosure or Kitchen. vegeta
bles and a few fruit trees, at the back.
There was a church and parsonage.
il is true. but the vicar was non-resi-
dent, being more deeply interested in
the conversion of Irish Catholics than
in the religious state of English Pro
testants. albeit they were of his own
flock. Consequently the vicarage was
shut up, and consumptive curate
with sickly wife and family of seven
children, living in cottage at the up
per end of the village, keeping up ap.
pearances-by means known only to
curates and their wives on the pitiful
salary of one hundred pounds year.
Anxious and careworn enough the
pair often looked, but they loved each
other dearly. and were beloved by ev-
cry one around. so it may be that their
fate was not a hard one after all.
The curate and his wife, poor
though they might be. were the only
people in the village who could prop
erely be designated ''gentlefolks." The
Lord of the Manor was nonresident
the Manor House itself being anything
but desirable home. If all was true
that was told of the sights and sounds
ham hot r1 ut
different times by different people the
poor man was very wise in not coming
to look after his property in person.
Hollow Ash Hall was haunted
house.
1t stood at some distance from the
village, upon a green and fertile emf
nence, shut out from the common ap-
proach. though not from common view
by high stone wall and lofty pair
of iron gates. There were a porter's
lodge. untenanted, of course, and a
small cottage within the grounds.
which had once been occupied by some
humble dependent of the family, in
tho day when that family was numer-
Gus and happy, and strongly united by
the thousand sweet ties that bind a
lONlHB heart 10 NOME.
Seen from the public road, the Hall
was simply n square. brick-fronted
English mansion, of the ordinary type,
comfortably and conveniently built,
with stables, green houses, gardens
and Conservatives, enough to satisfy
all the requirements of modern polite
society. The yew trees at the back.
and the long. bare lawn in front, gave
1t n melancholy appearance; but no
one would have dreamed of calling it
a haunted house had they not been told
that it had an undoubted right to the
name. There was not even hollow
ash tree in view, to account for it's un-
usable title. But the villagers, when
questioned upon the subject, would
look wise, and lead you to the top of
narrow. damp lane, where grew a
solitary tree. that had been touched
by the scathing finger of the lightning
or it's mission of destruction and
death. That was Hollow Ash" and
that was the Burnt Ash Lane" down
which lane. as sort of short cut" to
the scene of their uncanny revels. it
may be, strange figures were said to
fit as soon as the clock from the neigh
boring church had tolled the hour of
twelve.
Not only one ghost haunted the place
there were at least three or four;
and their names were more familiar
to the persons who owned the manor
than to any curious stranger who
sought to pry into its secrets. But it
must have been bold man or woman
who would have dared to ask Yer
non a question. They were a silent,
naughty, reserved race, by no means
addicted to the foolish practice of
wearing their hearts upon their
sleeves" And If there was one sub