Year: 1875

Not many miles from this place, says a
Tennessee correspondent, in the year
1850, there lived an old man, bachelor,
who had no one about him but the ser
wants which he owned. His principal
trait of character was his stinginess,
which he carried to such an extent that
he would even allow his entire crop of
apples, which was always an exceedingly
large one, to rot in his cellar before he
would give one to any of his neighbors.


One dark, rainy night we were sum-
moned to the old mans residence, the
messenger stating that he was dying.
Three other youths besides myself, who
were spending the vacation with me,
suggested that we should all pay the old
man visit, and ego for his apples.
Ripe for anything in the way of eating,
we Juveniles proceeded ON our journey.
We found the old man dead; the coffin
had been sent for, and the corpse was
ready for the funeral. We soon secured
the key to the cellar, and the choicest
apples found their way into our pockets
and stomachs with the greatest rapidity.


I carried the light and Smith the
basket and pitcher. We fingered awhile
in the cellar to drink few glasses of
cider, when all at once we heard noise,
as if the top of the house had fallen off,
and the sound of retreating footsteps
through the yard was like the stampede
Of cattle. Listen |" said [. "What' 8
that 2" said Smith. We reversed the
order Of things quickly, carrying the
basket of apples and cider, and Smith
the light Smith led me few lengths
on account Of my extra ballast, but no
sooner did he reach the center of the
room than he dropped the light and was
out of the window in jiffy. 1 came in
last and was dumbfounded at Smith s
actions as I watched his figure receding
through the window, the sash of which
hung gracefully around his neck. At
last thought Of being alone with a
corpse, and began to feel slightly por-
cupinish about the head. The fire was
low, but an occasional fame would flicker
up and cast a deadly glare around the
room. During one of these " fickers .
got sight of the corpse, and-great
saints alive-there it was sitting straight
up in the coffin, with sJth eyes wide
open, staring directly at me 1t is us.
necessary to say that followed Smith,
dropping an apple at every few steps, as
/ drew it from my capacious pockets.
never stopped to look up any of my il
lustrious predecessors. Not bit of it
but 1 ran home, reaching there about
daylight.


The phenomenon was fully explained
to my mind in few days. Old B. had
died of rheumatism, which had drawn
him up almost into a bow-knot. The
body had become rigid, with the CHR
most touching the knees, which necessi
tated pressing and forcing to get it into
the coffin. The corpse, in order to take
its natural position, had forced out the
screws and had assumed sitting pos
trre. Thus, what superstition had de
cided for us as spiritual manifesto
ton, caused by our raid on Old B. s ap
pies and cider, proved to be nothing else
but result from natural causes.


Poor Smith Until the day of hi
death he assured me that scarcely nigh
passed over his head without his seeing
old B. frowning at him from his coffin
and he never ate an apple or drank I
glass of cider without cold shudde
passing through his frame.