Ghost Stories

The events which I reoord in tlii.s paper havo taken place eithcr in my own family ór in the families of intímate friends, or are from the narration of persons of strict veraeity. I begin with one told me very lately by a pions and usef ui minister of the Church of England. I give this anecdote of his boyish days as much as possible in his own words. "I was brought up by my grandfather and grandmother, who resided in the old family mansión on the bjtnks of the Derwent, in Derbyshire. This venerv able place, which had belonged to our family from the time of the Norman Oonque8t, had a wide reputation for being liauntcd, and indeed the strange noises ■which were heard and the strange tricks which were played, for which nothing rational could account, made the belief of general acceptance. Erom generation to generation no death had occurred in our family without some superaatural wamüjg being given, and iu wliat I am al)Otit to teil you I was the person visited for this pui-pose. " When I was about 17 years of age, it was rathcr suddenly agreed that I should go with ' granny,' as I called hor, to pay a visit of a few days to my parente, who lived in the suburbs of Manchester. During the past summer my youngest sister, Lizzie, with whom I had been very little acquainted before, had paid us a visit at the time of hay making, and I remembor thinking that she was the most beautil'ul ohild I had ever seen.' Always in white, with lovely auburn hair floating in long curls over her shoulders, and playfully darting in and out among the hay-makers, bIic iippeared to me sornffening angelio, and wlien her visit was ended I quite grieved over her depártate. I was therefore much pleased wheu granny asked me to accompany her to Manchester, as I should sse my daar little sister again. A year before wo had lost dn iimit to whom we were deeply attached, and her bereaved husband was at the present time inhabiting one wing of our old family mansion. It was the 19th of December, 185-, that, af ter carefully packing voj box for the journey and laying juito M the bottom of the box, na it ntood in n corner of niy room, sdiae articles of black crnpc wbich I had worn at my aunt's funeral, I weirt to My a fatvwcil visit to my uncle iu his part-, of the house. After I had sat with him for some time the hall clock stniok 1, and just at that moment I fclt a deadly chili and shiyerinff all over me, cxactly au if I had been Buddeilly plunged into col1.! water. I became deadly Bale, and my nncle in an alarmed tone asked what was tlie matter with me. I said T 8id not know, but that I had never feit siteh a strnngo sensation bofore. My únele imaginad tíuit I mnst havo taken eold and recommended my going early to bed, as I was to travel the fpllowing day. " Having quite recovered from my unplcasant feelings, I spent the evening as usual, and retired to bed at the acoustorned time. Now, my bedroom was at the end of a long, narrow corridor, and exactly opposite the door by which I entered was the door of a room said to be haunted, which was always kept closed, and whioh no servant in the house conld be persuaded"to enter; indeed, they very unanimously avoided going into the corridor itself aftor dark, thoiigh it opened into muy bedrooms besidea my own. I had two or three times, while a boy, been In the hátlnted room with my grandfather ; I saw noth ing remarkable about it but a good deal of moldy, old-fashioned furniture, and an immense, f nnereal-looking bedatone end, with hangings which had once been sjïlendid but -vrere now dropping to pieees from age and neglect. The bed in my room stood exactly facjng the ñoot by which I entered and the door of tlie haunted room across the passage. Another door on tíie same side of the room was blocked up by my box, which stpod agaiiiet it. I cannot distinctly reinember whether or not in entering for thenight I elosed my bedroom door, but think it almost certain that I did so, for it was December and the weather very coldt I went to bed full of my tomorrow's jouruey, and not giving :i single tliought to either ghosts or haunted rooms went l'ast to sleep. How long I slept I cannot guess, but I found myself sitting up in bed intontly watching the door of my room, which was wide open, and the door of the haunted room, which was also open, and which I could see distinctly across the corridor s the moonlight feil upon it. Froni this room carne a ñgure which I watched aqrpss the passage, .and which, on approachiug my bed, I at once recognized as the aunt I had lost the year before, dressed in the same clothes I had last seen her in. Sho had a most fond and tender expression on her face, but it changed into an angry frown when, stretching over the side of the bed. 1 tried to embrace her, exclaiming, 'Oh, dcar aunt, is that you ?' I feit that I clasped the empty air, tlie ñgure vauishing in an instant from my siglit. I thought I had been dreaming, and lay down again, to wake up a short time aiterward and nee again the figure of my aunt, but now difïeroutly dresscd, advancing from the haunted room into mine, this time not coming to the bed but going to the box I had packed and placed in the corner ready for the next day. This she appeared to rummae over, displacing the contenta and then tossing tlie things back again. 1 watohed her with the greatest astonishrnent, and saw her go slowly out of my door into the door of the haunted room. I don't know whether I slept again or not, but a thiid time I was sitting up in bed, a tbird time my aunt carne in, this time close up to the bed, in long, flowing white, elethes- a dress in which I had néVer scen her. I almost gespeel out, ' Dear aunt, why do you come ?' to which f.ho ïv.'plied very ulearly and distiuctly, bilt -vith something of elïort, ' I come to make an important comm'inication, but it is all comprised in these words: Poor Lizzie ! But don't grieve; Lizzie is quite happy !' As she lintshed these words I startcd from the bed with outstrotclu d árms, bnt she had vanislied, aad T feil heavily to the floor where she had stood. I suppose that after getting back to bed I slept till morning, but as soonas I saw my grandmother I told lier all the cir{'limstaiieeK and made her look at my box, which was in the greatest disorder, and all the articles of niouming wbich I had placed at the bottom of the box I found at the top. My grantlmother looked grave but said nothing. I still persisted in thinking it but a curious dream, and we stiu-ted on our joumey that very morning. I was quite in my usual spirits when we arrived at the last railway station. From here We had still a long walk to where my parents lived, and, as we were not expected, Ipleased myseli' by thinking how surprised they would all bé. We arrived, and just as I laid jny liand on; the latcli of tlie garden gate to open it for granny, I feit exactly the same deathly chili and shivering which had come over me while sitting with my uncle the evening before. When I had recovered and we were going up the long gravel walk, I said to my grandnother, ' How strange the house looks, granny ! All the windows are draped with white, and I never remember my mother's room having white curtains before.' Granny made no answer, and as we knocked at the door my mother opened it, led us into the hall, and received us most affectionately, but spoke in, a huphed, subdued tone which frightened me. Her first words were, ' How glad í am you are come ! we looked for you some hours ago. ' ' How can that be' we replied, ' when we meant to surprise you, and did not write that we were coming?' 'But did you not,' said slie, 'getmy two letters? - the one in which I wrote of dear Lizzie's dangerous illness from scarlet feveraweek ago, and one to teil you of her death at 4 o'cloek yesterday, which last ought to have reached you before you etarted this morning?' This was a dreadful blow to tis,'ior, as w! told my mother, we had received neither letter. When we were a little recovered from the shock, my mother told us that, the day before, Lizzie knew she was dying and said she feit quite happy; she took leave of all the family then at home, and referring to me said, ' I should have liked to say good-by to dear Torn - poor Torn ! Giva my love to Torn !' As she said these Lust woïds she feil back and passed away; juut at that moment the clock struck -1. She died, then, exactly at the time when I feit the deathly chili while sitting with my uncle. "Alter my grandiather'e death I was placed till I was iive-and-twenty in Ihikínoss with a maát'er who proved to lic a professed alheist. Finding me te be an intelligent lad and more than usually well grounded in the scripturos, ho made it his daily business, by specious argument and covert ridicule, to undermine my Christian belief, and often flattered himself that he was on the point of succeeding. He certainly would have done so but for my remembrance of my aunt's appoarance in my bedroom at the time of Lizzie's death. Whenever I had time for refleotion nnd thonglit of that, I tVlt aasnred tliat there was not only a tiite of beiog after deatb, but a directing power by whose igency oven a discmbodied spirit oould return to the sceno of its eartlily pilgrirnage." A young Éuglish lndy nearly conneeted with our family marriod, wliilo visiting in Gormany, a gentleman of rank aud fortune, with whose motber, who lived ai a distance of abont forty railes awuy, slie beeame a great favorite. At the birth of her first baby she was mucli distressed that her kind in-la w, the Frau Ton B- - , was not present, nor did her busband venturo to teil her that illness - not, however, snpposed to be dangerous - was the cause. All went ■vell in the siek-room, andfivedaysafterward Madame B , her baby boy by her side, was sleeping soundly, with her curtains drawn, just as darkness had settled down -at the close of a winter's day. Contrary to her usual custom the nurse, seeing the lady so fast asleep, had left the room to get something necessary for the night. Madame B awoke on feeling the pressure of an icycold hand on her arm, and, looking up hastily, saw by the light of the lamp hor mother-in-law hanging over her and the baby with a very sad expression on her face, which was ashy pale. Raising herself in the bed, the young mother exclaimed, " O dearest mother ! when did you come ? I am so glad !" The mother-in-law sighed deeply, and replied, "I am only come, dear Alice, to say farewell forever; you will never see more on earth I" Sbe instantly vanished out of sight, and the nurse, returning, found her lady in state of great excitement and alarm, calling for her mother-in-law and say ing that she must be in the house, having just left her bedside. The poor lady was ill for many days, and it was long before she was told that her husband's mother had died at her own castle, forty miles away, at the very moment when she stood beside her. A sister of this young Madame B was stayiug at Brighton, with the family of a yourtg friend, in a deplorable state of healtb, but who was gradually getting bettor under the care of a doctor, olever and zealous, who visited her daily, and took the greatest interest in her case. He was a tall, slender man, with long, chin fingers, most remarkably white, and a countenaace which seemed to bear the impress of all the woes and troubles of bis numerous patiënte, so deep was the sympathy he feit for those who suffered. One day there was much sorrow in the family; the kind physician, on whose visits they so much depended, died suddenly; none of them dared to teil the invalid, and, for a few days, nothing was said, but the family noticed that poor Minnie S - - looked very pensive and grave. At length lier mother thought it best to teil her, when sho qnietly repliod, "I have luiown it from the iirst; lio carne and told me himself , and comes to seo me every night !-" A few nights alter tliis, for some réasori or another, the iuvalid went to sleep in a different room, aud the young friend staying on a visit took her place in the vacatud bed. Toward midnight the family, who kept late hours, retired for the night, nnd Georgy D took possession of her friend' s bed, quite ignorant of the doctor's nightly visits. In abont an hout loud sbrieks wero heard from the room, and the young girl was fouud on the side of the bed, pule, trenibling, and almost eonvulsed with terror. She said that, having undressed and gone to bed, iirst shutting and locking the bedroom door, she went fast to sleep, leaving her curtains undrawn, and the lamp on the dressing-table alight. She was awakened by a rustling noise beside her bed, and, starting up, saw the doctor, dressed just as he was in life, standing there. He then sat down on the side of the bed and laid his long, pale hand on her arm, but the momenUhc saw that the occupant of the bed was clianged he got up, and vauished from her sight before reacliing the door. Strange to say, that very instant he went to the room where Minnie S was sleeping, and held his customary conversation with her, quite unseen and unheard by Annic D , a younger sister of the ono to wbom he had just foeeñ so plainly visible. After a time bis visits ceased. At the close of the Burmese war, Lieut. K , a young officer who had been severely wounded in one of the actions and subsequently attacked by f ever, was sent home on a sick certifícate some months beforo the return of his regiment, whose term of service, in India had nearly expired. He lelt many friends behind him, but none from whom he more deeply regretted to part than Mr. P , the British collector at Madura, with whom he had been for years on terms of most familiar intimacy. The very first night of his landing in England, after an absence which dated from boyhood, he lay long awake in his bed at the hotel where he had taken up his quarters. He feit very restless, and thought over all he had gone through in India, aud the friends he had left, to see, probably, no more. Among these Ik; thought of his friend P . It was past midnight, and he was still meditating, when he heard some one in the room, though he had locked the door before undressing. He looked to the side from which the sound came, and distinctly saw his friend P , not f ar from the bed, gnzing at him very mournfully. Astonished beyond measure, he prepared to step out of bed, exclaiming, "Why, P ! Whatever brings you here ?" His friend waved his hand nu il' to keep him off, shook his head sadly, and, gliding toward the door, suddenly disappeared. K remained awake nearly the whole night, quite tmable to account for what had happened. In due course of time the mails from India brought word that P had died of cholera, at Madura, after a few hours' illness, on the very night in which he appeared to Lieut. K . Somo time after my dear mother's death, I was sitting with my father, Col. D , in liis dressing-room, and we were mutually deploring our dreadful misfortune, and going over, as we werc too prone " to do, many of the circurnstances attending hor last illness. I rernarked to him, among other things, that her illneas was in the beginning so slight that I should not have feit the least fear as to the result had I not been extremely discouraged by the sadness and preoccupatioii of mind manifested by himself at that time. My father, after some hesitation, related to me the oceurrence which had occasioned his nuwonted depression of spirits, whioh I can trnly say I listened to in ditmb astonisliment, so unlikely a person did he nppear to have éxperièncéaanytnïnsrof the sort. He was sitting one evening after dinner with my mother, couvcrsiiig on variuus Hubjeots. Tlie wine and dessert having been placed on the table, they drew thcir chairsuptoeach corner of a blazing fire, the evenings being chilly, though it was only the early autumn. After a time niy motbcr appenrod to bo dozing in her chair, and my father drewouthispocketboolc to mako a ote of uome visit he had to pay tho next dy. Ho found, hawever, that tho pencil-enKe he always oarried in liis pocket, and rnuch vulued is tho gift of imold frieml, was not thcre, and, eoncluding thnt he had left it on his dressing-table beforo dÍH&D$ quietly left tho room to i'etch it. Tho stairease went tip frorn tho hall, and at tho first landing branchod off into two smaller stairiMHOH, the ono to tho left leading to my mother's apartments, a bedroom ind dressing-rooni fronting the lawn, with a wide landing-place and ivimlow bctween the two rooms; the ono to the right, through an arclied door-way into a long corridor, -with bedrooms on each side, and a back staircase at the end. My father's dressing-room was in tlic middle of the corridor. Having found his peneil-case, he was coming ont of the arched door-way bef ore mentioned, when he saw my mother before him on tho small ilight of stairs leading to lier own rooms. She turned into her dressingroom, and my father, much surprised to see her, followed to give her his arm in coming down again, as she was rather infirm. What was his astonishment on entering the room to find no one there, He could hardly believe the OTidenco of his senses, and when, on returning to the dining-room, ho found my mothor in lier eliair by the iire exaetly :is ho had left her, he knew not what to think. When she roused up beforo tea, he asked whetluT she had left the room sincO dinner, to which she answered, " Not for a moment." Wlren my father' was on his death-bed, he was for soroe time delu-ious, but, on the last morning, a few hours before death, he was perfcctly lucid, nnd said to me, "I shall soon leave you, my child ; your dear mother has come to fetch me !" Then, seeing, doubtless, iny look of awed astonishment, he added, " Yes, my dear wif e has lain by my side all night." I had nover left his bedside. but had neither seen nor heard anything umisual, except that dtiring the niglit ho secimed, at intervals, to b'e talking