The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1904-06-30

fS1 VT wanted few nights to
Xxi / Christmas, a festival for
k11S5E which the small market town
SssYsz) of dorchester was making eS-'
tensive preparations. The narrow
streets, which had been thronyed with
people, were now almost deserted, the
cheap Jack from London, with the
remnant Of breath left him after his
evenings eXertiOnS, was making fee
bic attempts to blow out his naphtha
lamp, and the last shops open We're
rapidly closing for the night.
In the comfortable coffee room of
the old Bears Head half q dozen
guests, principally commercial travel
ers, sat talking by the light of the fire.
The talk had drifted from trade to
politics, from politics to religion and
sAby easy stages to the supernatural.
Those ghost stories, never known to
fail before, had fallen fiat; there was
too much noise outside, too much light
within. The fourth story was told by
an old hand with more success. The
streets We're quieter, and he had turn
ed the gas out. In the Pickering light
of the fire as it shone on the glasses
and danced with shadows on the walls
the story proved so enthralling that
George, the waiter, whose presence
had been forgotten, created a very dis
agreeable sensation by suddenly start
ing up from a dark corner and gliding
silently from the room.
'That's what I call a good story"
said one of the men, slipping his hot
whisky. "Of course, it's an old idea
that spirits like to get into the COM
pany of human beings. A man told me
once that he Travelled down the Great
Western with a ghost and hadn't the
slightest suspicion of it until the in
spector came for tickets. My friend
said the way that ghost tried to keep
up appearances by feeling for it in all
its pockets and looking on the floor
was quite touching. Ultimately it gave
it up and with faint groan vanished
through the ventilator"
'That'l do, Hirst," said another man.
"1t's not a subject for jesting," said
little old gentleman who had been an
attentive listener. eve never seen an
apparition myself, but I know people
who have, and I consider that they
form very interesting link between
us and the after life. There's a ghost
story connected with this house, you
know"
"Never heard of it," said another
speaker, "and I've been here some
years now"
1T dates back a long time now"
said the old gentleman "You've heard
about Jerry Bundler, George?'
"Well, I've just heard odds and ends,
SIR" said the old waiter, "but I never
put much count to 'em. There was one
chap 'ere what said he saw it, and the
gov'ner sacked him prompt"
MY father was a native of this
town." said the old gentleman, "and
knew the story well. He was a truth
full man and 4 steady churchgoer, but
I've heard him declare that once in his
life he saw the apparition of Jerry
Bundler in this house,
"And who was this Bundler?" in
Quired voice.
"a London thief, pickpocket, high
wayman, anything he could turn his
dishonest hand to-" replied the old
gentleman, ''and he was run to earth
in this house one Christmas week some
eighty years ago. He took his last
supper in this very room, and after he
had gone to bed couple of Bow street
runners, who had followed him from
London, but lost the scent a bit, went
up stairs with the landlord and tried
the door. 1t was stout oak and fast, so
one went into the yard and by means
OF short ladder got on to the window
sill while the other stayed outside the
door. Those below in the yard saw:
the man crouching on the sill, and
then there was a sudden crash Of
glass, and with a cry he fell in heap
on the stones at their feet. Then in
the moonlight they saw the white face
of the pickpocket peeping over the sill,
and while some stayed in the yard 9TH
ers ran into the house and helped the
other man to break the door in. 1t was
difficult to obtain an entrance even
then, for the door was barred with
heavy furniture, but they got in at
last, and the first thing that met their
eyes was the body of Jerry dangling
from the top Of the bed by his own
handkerchief.
(which bedroom was it?" asked two
or three voices together
The narrator shook his head. "That
l can't tell you. But the story goes
that Jerry still haunts this house, and
my father used to declare positively
that the last time he slept here the
ghost of Jerry Bundler lowered itself
from the top of his bed and tried to
strangle him."
"That'll do" said an uneasy voice.
II wish you'd thought to ask your IA
Their which bedroom it was.''
"What for?" inquired the old gentle
man.
'Well, I should take care not to
sleep in it; that's ALL" said the voice
shortly.