Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

VOL. I. For the Banner of the South. The Fountain of Youth. Could I borrow from Youth’s sweet time Ev’n a semblance of the Past, For a day, at least, I’d cheat Time Os some raptures, tho’ the last; For brighter were its embers Than the fires of present bliss, And the light of its Decembers ’ Far outshone the Mays of this. Could the joys which I have slighted But be given once agaiu— Could my lamp of life be lighted Half as brilliantly as then— I could sing, then, “though departed, All my bloom of Youth may be, I shall ne’er be broken-hearted, For a hope is left to me. “Tho’ in vain I chase the shadow Os my cherished, vanished Youth, It will paint me still the meadow Wherein flows the Fount of Truth.” Is not this th’ Egerian Fountain ? Seek not its source on Earth; Nor in valley, nor in mountain; For, from Heav’n it gushes forth. “Prince Orrick.” From the Galaxy, for October. A Chemico Ghost Story. [concluded.] During a lull in the conversation, Morton finally adroitly introduced the ghost question. I saw immediately that the family did not relish the subject, and almost regret ted that it had been brought up. Morton, however, who had become nearly as greatly interested in the matter as my self, and being, withal, on more intimate terms with the P.s’, was not to be satis lied until he had heard a comparison of the stories. He, accordingly, made several more adroit appeals, and, at length, in duced the old gentleman to withdraw his objections. A well-filled cigar-holder was now passed around, and, as the ladies insisted ou our smoking, w 7 e lighted up, and Mr. T. began. I cannot remember his exact words, but the substance of bis narration was about as follows : MR. P.’s ACCOUNT. “It is a long story, and such a time has elapsed since I have given it a thought, that I fear I have forgotten all except the most prominent points. As well as I remember, however, (and you observe how far back I have to go,) my grandfather was occupying this house at the time Washington had reduced Corn wallis to his last extremity. My grand lather was about fifty years of age at that time, and, though a warm supporter of the colony against British oppression, his health was so precarious that he could take no part in the army, now about to operate so near his homestead. Com pelled thus to remain at home, he was louud dead in his bed one morning, just a few days before the attack on York town was begun. “The circumstances attending his death rendered it quite probable that he had been the victim of foul play; and, though llu feet clue could be found as to tiie murderer, suspicion attached to a Miss C., ! l P'ung lady to whom the old gentleman •'nd taken a great fancy. This personage Was then staying at Governor NelsoiAs ' w ho lived in the large brick mansion at the upper corner of this block,)* and was a very frequent visitor in my grand lather’s family. My father, then quite a >'°UMg man, and, at the identical time of i riiis old house still stands. It has upon its eastern yaoie several cannon-ball scars, said to have been in ueted by Washington himself.—[lrving’s Life. which I speak, a Lieutenant in the Colonial Army, has often spoken to me about Miss C., saying that, up to the death ot his father, he had entertained for her a most devoted affection. It was known to my father, and to his brothers and sisters, that Miss C. was mentioned in the will of grandfather, in a clause that would prove of very substantial benefit to her—she beimg, at that time, not very abundantly endowed with worldly riches. This fact was so frequently a topic of conversation ia the family, that, of course, it became known to the young lady herself. “Neither my grandmother, nor any of her children, made the slightest objection to this liberality; but, on the other hand, as father informed me, they often ex pressed, in Miss O.’s presence, their un feigned delight that one so much beloved by the family should become a participant in its patrimony. “Soon after Miss C. became aware of this provision in grandfather’s will, an unaccouutable change took place in her demeanor. From being a vivacious and refreshing little visitor, who had brought herself to be considered a member of the family, she now became coq! and distant; and, though she lived within two hun dred yards of this house, she now seldom crossed its threshold. It was a great while before my father, or any of the others, could assign the least plausible reason for this chaDge in her conduct; but, eventually, they came to the conclu sion, that she was afraid her fondness for the family might be looked upon as a fawning adulation for the very purpose which the will now implied to have been a successful practice of sycophancy. This was the only theory by which they could render satisfactory, in any degree, her recent sudden estrangement. Honi sort qui mat ypense , you see, therefore, will not always hold good; for. father says nothing could have been more re mote from the thoughts of any member of the family than the supposition that Miss C. was enacting the sycophant; and he, as the eldest child, did everything in his power to bring back again her bright, happy face into the household, which so much missed its little fairy. “Just before returning to his regi ment, he consulted with grandmother ou the propriety of telling Miss C. to what they had attributed her coolness; and, if she should acknowledge the correctness of their hypothesis, he intended to convince her of her unkind mistake. Grandmother, though, feeling it to be a very delicate matter, told father that he might take the steps that to him seemed best. But I must shorten my story. “Father went to Governor Nelson’s, that evening ; asked to see Miss C.; and made to her the explanation I have just mentioned. He succeeded. Knowing it to be a matter of great delicacy, lie said, he approached it in an assumed playful manner. “ ‘Miss Katy,’ he said, ‘if that is the reason you have stopped visiting our family, 1 will tell father not only to re tract that disagreeable clause in his will, but to add a codicil, bequeathing you, soul and body, to bis son, Henry’(father’s name), ‘until death us do part.’ ” “Miss C. knew of the engagement then existing between my father and mother, and this little sally was received in very good spirit. “With some degree of confusion, 'she then admitted that father had divined the cause of her past bad behavior, and seemed to«express very sincere regret that she had acted with so much unbecomingness. They parted, apparently, very good friends. She told father that, if permit ted, she would renew her friendship for our family; and added, in a merry tone, that she would not be naughty again, ‘even if Mr. P. should will her his entire property.’ Father bade her good-bye, aud started the next morning to rejoin his regiment. Miss C. again became a liule home-body in our family, frequent! v -AUGUSTS, GA., NOVEMBEE 7, 1868. coming and remaining several days at a time. “There were now at home no one but grandfather, grandmother, and my Aunt Eliza—their youngest daughter. My father was with the Army, and his sisters, except the youngest, and his only brother, were at school in France. “It is now necessary that I should enter jnore particularly into a description of the condition of my grandfather’s health. Though quite an in valid,.no one supposed that he was near his appointed time to die. He walked about the house during the daytime, and retired to his bed every night without assistance. It was his custom, during the night, to get up and take a preparation that was placed on one of the shelves of a large old-fashioned wardrobe.” [At this juncture of the story I was evincing such an interest as to attract the attention of Miss Essie. She asketl me if I was fond of “ghost stories ?” To which—evading her scrutiny—l replied : “Sometimes; and, especially, when I hear them from the lips of a man of sense.’’] Mr. P. continued : “This medical preparation was kept in an ordinary glass tumbler, which was placed iu a particular spot, so that grand lather could find it without difficulty, even in the dark ; and it was taken to lessen the severity of a spasmodic cough, with which he was apt to be troubled nearly every night. “The room in which we are sitting was then used as the family bedroom; but since grandfather had become a confirmed invalid, he preferred to be alone, using the room overhead as his sleeping cham ber.” [The room indicated w’as the very one in which I had seen the ghost; and my interest again becoming so intense as to attract attention, I made a movement, as if to knock the ashes from my cigar, when I turned my chair so that the light should not fall upon my face.] “The medicine,” proceeded Mr. P., “had been placed, as usual, on the shelf of the old wardrobe, on the night of the 7th of October: and, without any apparent in crease of feebleness, grandfather had re tired to his room, in his accustomed de gree of health.' Grandmother and Aunt Eliza (theD not more than four years old), occupied the room in which we now sit; and Miss C., who was staying hero that night, slept in her usual apartment, which was the other room, up stairs.” Addressing himself to me, Mr. P. said: “You may not know the arrangement of the upper rooms, Mr. Van Wyck, but I would state that it is simply like that of these below—a passage intervening, and the doors facing each other.” I nodded my understanding of the ex planation, and our host thus continued: “Earl} on the next morning—the Bth Miss C. came into grandmother’s room, before the latter had arisen—though, I assure you, the good old lad}' was an early riser almost to the day of her death. She begged pardon for intruding at such an hour, saying that she had just thought of a piece of embroidery, which she had promised to send over to Gloucester, by the boat which would leave shortly after suurise; and padded, that she had merely stopped in to. tell grandmother that she would not be back for breakfast. Grandmother said she seemed to be very much agitated, and would not be per suaded to let one of the servants run up to Mr. Nelson’s for herworkbox. It was insisted that she should return for break fast, but she said she could not—expected to be very busy—‘at least,’ said Miss C., running out, ‘do not keep it waiting for me.’ Grandmother was much struck by her great agitation, but attributed it to her tear lest the boat should leave before she could send her needlework (of which she was quite proud), to her friend in Gloucester. “My grandmother did not go to sleep again, but continued in lied until her usual hour for rising, when she got up and went about her ordinary morning avocations. Grandfather, for a week or two previous to his death, had been sleep ing to a very late hour; and, as he had given instructions that no one should enter his room until he had rung his chamber-bell, no notice was taken of the stillness that pervaded that part of the house. Breakfast over, however, and the silence now having continued much later than usual, grandmother de cided to step quietly up to the room occu pied by her husband, and ascertain if he was still asleep. She went up, and open ed the door without making a noise— grandfather never locked it —and now, what a sight was before her ! What must have beeu her horror, when she saw, from the pallid countenance and fixed glassy stare of her husband’s eyes, that he was a corpse ! But this part of the story need not be extended. “Screaming out, my grandmother fell over on the bed in a swoon. Her call having been heard, she was soon revived by the kindness of a trusty house servant. The neighbors came in, aud all of the friends of the family (except Miss C.) called upon the afflicted old lady, and of fered her the consolations and attentions she so much required. “No suspicion attached, at this time, to this young woman. Indeed, it was for some time believed that my father had died from his ailment—from a more than usually severe attack of his cough; and it was oifly judged from her after conduct that Miss C. had been the murderess. “My grandfather's burial took place on the morning of the 9th—a day destined to be eventful in another respect. It was on the morning of the 9th of October, 1781, that General Washington threw up his first line of entrenchments for the attack on the town; the bombardment opening on the evening of the same day. Lord Conwallis having ordered all the non combatants to be sent across the river, the confusion consequent upon these movements prevented any examination into the mystery attending my grand father’s demise. The fighting, which was begun on the 9th, terminated on the 19th, in the surrender of the British forces. My father, who was in the attacking army, entered Yorktown, to find that grandfather had died a week or ten days before. He brought his mother back, and it was now that the mystery began to be unveiled, Miss C. never returned. She secluded herself at the house of a friend in Gloucester, where she remain ed until taken to the Asylum for the insane at Williamsburg. “A chain of circumstantial evidence now became very patent, and the guilt was fixed upon this wretched girl. Other wise, had the proof not been so plain, it would have been hard to believe that one so young, so beautiful, and hitherto so lovely, had been the perpetrator of so heinous a crime as the murder of one who had been to her as a father and benefactor. “It is easy to decide her guilt, when we remember that she was familiar with the habits of my grandfather; that she knew his custom of getting up every night to take medicine for soothing his cough; that he occupied an adjoining room on the night of his death; that she rose so early on the morning he was found dead, and was so much agitated by such a trivial matter as a piece of em broidery ; aud, in connection with these facts, if we recall her former unaccounta ble coolness towards a family where she was looked upon as a daughter, and her subsequent avoidance of the house of her victim, it is an easy matter, I say, when we remember these things, to lay the crime immediately at her door. “That behavior, which my father thought so inexplicable, is now readily explained. Instead of fearing lest she should be considered a sycophant, she was, in reality, possessed of a devil; and she was changed in her manner because she was changed in her heart, and knew that she had in contemplation the murder of a man who had bequeathed her a large property. “This is nearly all of my story, and you are anxious to know what it has to do with ghosts. In a few words, I will pro ceed to tell you: “This woman, who had become a raving maniac, died three or four years afterwards at the Asylum in Williamsburg, and it is supposed that her spirit, at inter vals of ten or twenty years, visits the apartment in which she committed the crime. At least, on the 7th of October, in the year 1791, exactly ten years after the murder, as you percievc, my Aunt Eliza, who was then fourteen years of age, was sleeping in the room in which her father had died, when she suddenly awaked, in a great nervous fright. This occurred about midnight. Her mother, accompanied by a servant, went up to her room, in answer to the cries of her daughter, and found her on the verge of fainting from fright. As grandmother opened the door, she said that something, which she supposed to be a gust pf wind, brushed past her with such force as to extinguish the light. “Having succeeded in soothing the fears of Aunt Eliza, graudmother in quired into the cause of her terror. She replied that she had seen Miss C. feeling about her pillow; saying that her face, surrounded by a kind of pale blue flame, had come out of the wardrobe, aud, when it approached her bed, she was so terrified that she screamed, and covered her head with the bedclothes. Her mother told her that she had been having a bad dream, and that she must go down and stay the remainder of the night in the family bedroom. Aunt Eliza—still very nervous—assured her mother that it was not a dream; that she was perfectly wide awake; and that she saw MissC.’s face, as plainly as she now saw her mother’s. In a very excited state, she arose from her bed, and, leaving the room, seemed al most afraid to turn her head towards the wardrobe. “On the night of the same day, in Oc tober, 1801, twenty years after the death of grandfather—another member of the family was greatly frightened by the apparition of a luminous figure of a woman’s arm and shoulder. The person who was frightened in that year, (being older than my aunt was when she saw the face of Miss C.,) had greater credence at tached to her story. This lady was a cousin of my grandmother, and was then about forty years of age. She was rather a strong-minded old maid, and had laughed somewhat maliciously (as Aunt Eliza thought,) at the story of the ghost seeing. When intruded upon by the luminous visitor, however, she bounced out of bed, rushed from the apartment, and never waited to take an observation on the movements of the ghost. “I do not remember the circumstances of its appearance in 1811, but know that there is some tradition to the effect that its visit was repeated. “In October of the year 1821, no one but servants were ou the premises. My grandmother had died some years before, and my father—to whom the house now belonged—had taken his family to visit a sister, who then lived in Charlottesville. “I do not remember whether any of the family were at home in 1831 or not; at any rate, we have no repetition of the ghost story for that year ; and, it is quite probable that if any of us were here, that the ‘ hauuted room,’ as it came to be called, was not occupied. “In 1841,1, being a member of the Legislature, spent the Autumn months in Richmond. 1 had been married about two years; aud, my wife remaining at home, had for a companion, during my absence, an unmarried sister. “So long a time had now elapsed, that all fears of the ghost had been dissipated, and the stories about the haunted room had ceased to be repeated. You will r e member that none of father’s family wer. No. 34.