A Ghost Commuter

The wind drove the hail and sleet violently against the cax windows, and what with its nielanehóly howling, accoinpanying the incessant rattle of the panes, I could hardly hear the shrieks of the looomotive's whistle as the train plunged through the dense darkness. It was a hard night to travel, and I did not wonder that the car was enipty save f or the man who had just seated hünself beside me. Such being the case, however, I could not but feel surprised that this single other passenger should have crowded into my seat when he might have had a whole one to himBelf . I cannot say that I was indignant, f or though he f orced me to move toward the draf ty window he was company, and I had feit lonely from the very beginning of the forlom trip on the midnight erpress. Then, too, he was such a mild, harmless lookmg fellow. I glanced toward him, intending to open the conversation, when my eye feil upon the time table in which he was deeply engrossed. It was a thumb worn piece of paper, and no wonder, for across the top I read in big black type, "To go into effect on April 1, 1884. " It seemed strange that á man should consult a train schedule 1 1 years old. My curiosity was aroused, and I drew my own time table from my pocket and held it toward him. "Pardon me, sir, but perhaps this will be of more use to you. Where are you going?" "Thank you, " he replied sadly, "but you cannot help me. I would that you could, though. You see, I ani bound for Tutherford, but it seems that I will never get there. ' ' "Tutherford!" I exclaimed. "Why, you are on the wrong train!" I knew this place well as one of the prettiest little suburban villages on the line of the New York, Lackahudson and Western, but I also was aware that this train never stopped there and that we had long since passed it. "That is just the devil of it, "replied my companion vigorously. A melancholy sniile passed over his pale face, and then he added: "I've been getting on the wrong train f or 1 1 years. But excuse me, sir, you are sitting on my beef steak. ' ' Curiosity now gave place to astonishment. My first impulse was to believe that I had a inadman f or a companion, but his eveiy look bélied such an idea. Every detail of his clothing denoted extrenie neatness and self respect. He was a small, slender man, with a slightly bald head and clean shaven face. At his feet were two large, neatly done up bundies ; at his side and partly under me was a third parcel, wrapped in brown paper, which I had no reason to believe contained rueat. "A thousand pardons, " I said, rising so that he could rescue his steak from destruotion. "I am afraid that I have ruined it. I was not aware that I was sitting on anything ' ' "Little wonder, ': he replied quietly. "No human being could feel that steak. And as for injuring it, I purchased it 11 years ago and have been trying to get it home to Tutherford ever since. To make things plain, that is a phantom beef steak. ' ' I broke out into a hearty laugh and exclaimed, "You are either considerable of a wag, sir, or else an idiot. ' ' My f ellow traveler drew himself up and cried hotly: "Do you know whom you are addressing? I am the late R. G. Jones, sir, for many years a leading citizen of Turherf ord. ' ' "The late R. G. Jones of Tutherford!" I retorted, and then I made a motion to give him a little jovial dig in the ribs, but to my horror my hand went right through him and struck the arm of the seat on his other side. He smiled. drew back in amazement. I will not attempt to depict my sensations. Wonder gave way to utter astonishment, astonishnient to horror, hon-or to fright. But this last emotion passed, for I knew that there was no escape. I could not leave the car, and then the very appearance of the ghost was so peaceable and respectable that a sense of security carne to me. Reason prerailed, and I soon f ound myself traveling on the best of tenns with my strauge companion. "I see you travel on a pass, Mr. Dockboy, " said the late R. G. Jones af ter our relationship had assumed a state of mutual confidence. "That is why I made myself known to you. I suppose you have a pull on this road. " "My fourth cousin is the wife of the president of the New York, Lackahudson and Western, "I replied proudly, for I was not a little vain about this relationship. "That is good news for me, " began the late R. G. Jones. "You see, Mr. Dockboy, I have long needed a f riend with smie influence on the road, for I want to have this train stopped at Tutherford jnst once. " "Whatl" I cried. "Yes, stopped at Tutherford," he contimied. "I do not wonder at your surprise, but then you will not be niuch astonished when you kuow my reasons. I have told you my late name, and perhaps it wil) interest you to hear that for many years I was an aldemian in Tutherford - a vlace of no mean importance. My business was in New York. Every morning for ten yeai-s I lef t my house at 8 :22, reached the station at 8:30 and toofc tho 8:31 tor towu. At just 5 :13 o'clock in theevening IreaeB.ad the Jersey City station and boarded tho train for homo. It so happened that for the last five years of my Ufe I always got on the third car froni the engine and took the third seat froni the rear. It became a habit with me. I was known and respeeted on the road, and there was a tacit understanding among the other conirnuters that that place should always be reserved for nie. This is the same car, No. 335, and the very sanie seat. ' ' "And you are haunting it?" I asked, for the light was beginning to break. ' ' Temporarily and accidentally, ' ' replied the late R. G. Jones. "When I can get this train stopped at Tutherford, I will get off and go back to my old home. Don't you remember seeing in the papers about ten years ago how R. G. Jones, a prominent Citizen of Tutherford, succumbed to an attack of heart failure brought en by overexertion while trying to catch the 5 :13?" ' " Oh, yes, I recall that well. A very sad case, indeed. " Of course I didn't, but that didn't matter. The late R. G. Jones looked grateful. "That was when I became a ghost, " he said. "A few days later X received my orders to proceed to Tutherford and haunt my old home. There have always been strauge and confused ideas existing aboút ghosts. These inipressions, that we do everything in a higglety pigglety way are all erroneous - decidedly erroneous. I couldn't go sailing back home in any way but an orderly one - by train, just as I did when I was not late. And, moreover, custom required that I shc.uld travel on car No. ■i'5, third seat from the rear, as I had done day in and day out for years. So 1 went to the station with my phantom umbrella, buudles and beefsteak. Promptly at ö :12 I got off the ferry, stopped at the newsstand which is run for the phantcm conunuters and purchased a sporting extra of a phantom evening paper, repaired to the train shed and got on this car, No. 335, and took this very seat But the train did not start as usual. It was midnight befcre v.-e left the station, and then, to my horror, we whirled through Tutherford and never made a stop until we reached the junction GO miles west. I will not dweil an my sorrow when I realized my predicament. Car 335 had been shifted to the midnight express, and until it could be stopped at Tutherford I was doomed to haunt this uncomfortable seat instead of niy own pretty suburban horne. "Years have passed since then, and every night I have got on the same car and sat in this sanie seat, oftentimes crowded between two men, who could not see me, always doomed to go whirling by the familiar little station without a speek of a chance of getting off. Did you ever travel in the same car seat with two fat women with babies and bundies?" ' 'No, ' ' I replied. "But I can conceive more pleasant positions. ' ' "Yet such has many a time been my f ate, ' ' continued the late R. G. Jones, in spectral mournfulness. "I have traveled with noisy drummers, with chattering Italiaus, opium smelling Chinese, with every possible kind of nian that it is unpleasaut for a sensitive man like I was to sit in the same seat with. Once, in desperation, I made rnyself visible to the conductor and pleaded with him to stop the train at Tutherford. He refused absolutely, and not only that, he denianded my ticket. I got out my commutation card, seven years out of date, and handed it to him. He asked me if I thought he was a fooi and used very violent and personal language. When I told him I could not pay, he declared that he would put me off the train. 'Please leave me off at Tutherford, ' I said f oolishly. I have regretted those words greatly, for the man . saw that nothing would suit me better than to get off the train, and he carried nie to the end of the line. Since then I have in vain watched a chance to speak to some one who has a pull on the road. They have been wearisome years to me, and when tonight the longed for opportunity came I seized it. I saw you had a pass. ' ' "My dear Mr. Jones," I said, for I was deeply affected by the story of my companion, who, with his eyes filled with cloudlike tears, was now leaning eagerly toward me, awaiting my reply, "you have my sympathy. I have heard niuch of ghosts, but you are the first I ever met. Your story is a sad one, and I will do what I can to alleviate your sufferings. I see what you want. You wish to have this car stopped at Tutherford so that you can get off the train like an ordinary phantom and obey your instructions to haunt your own house. ' ' A look of joy and expectancy came over the phantom 's face. "You have my word that I will use my influence with my cousin, the president of the New York, Lackahudson and Western, to have this train stopped just once at Tutherford. I will take such steps as socn as I get back to town. ' ' "It is almost daylight, and we are approaching the juncticn, wliere I always get off, ' ' said the late R. G. Ji .; u -s. His voice was husky, but a gleam cf hope and happiness transfused his face. "I must leave you now. It is probable that I will uever be able to repay your kindness, Mr. Dockboy, but you will have the conseiousness cf huving dono a noble deed in freeing a phantom commuter from an awf ui thrall. ' ' Theu he gathered up his phantom bundies and walked down the aisle, but before he reaehed the door he had passed from my sight. I kept my word to him. Many were the subterfuges I used to have the midtiight express stopped at Tutherford, but I succeeded, thanks to my cousin, the president of the road, and the knowledge that the respectable and late R. G. Jones has at last got off that train at his late place of residence af ter 1 1 long years of travel lias been to me a source