Literary
THE RALSTON GHOST
For many years the Ralston house at the lower end of the village had stood silent and deserted. It was a gloomy looking place, standing as it did a little back from the road, among a number of tall pine trees. Most of its windows were gone and the doors were either hanging on one hinge or propped up against the doorways. To add still further to the dismal appearance of the place it was entirely covered with the dead vines of a great woodbine, while tall weeds surrounded the old steps and reared their heads even to the windows. But although the old house presented a dreary, forlorn appearance, and for that reason few people went near it, it had never had the name of being haunted. In fact, the people of the town were not very superstitious, and troubled themselves very little about such things as ghosts.
But one night, a young fellow was passing the old house, when suddenly he saw a white form pass on of the windows ; at the same time the sound of a deep groan fell on his ears. He didn’t stop to debate the matter but took to his heels and lessened the distance between himself and the old house in a most remarkable manner. He burst into the village store with his astonishing news, only to meet with incredulous looks and doubting remarks. No one had ever heard tell of such a thing. “That old house had stood thar peaceable for night onto fifty year and ‘twan’t ‘tall likely anything was a troubling of it now.” All the same the young fellow maintained that he saw something and furthermore declared that he warn’t going by that old house, alone. The men laughed at him and several of them offered to accompany him home.
They started out and reached the old house without accident, altho’ the young fellow firmly believed that every stonewall and tree harbored a white, ghostly form. He kept on the opposite side of the road while passing the old house, watching it closely. Suddenly he stopped short, “See ! Look thar !” he whispered in an awe-struck tone. “Now will you believe me ?” Sure enough they all saw the white form pass by a window, and faint, low moans came to their ears, accompanied by soft rustles like clinging skirts. The men held their breaths and gazed horror-stricken at the awful thing as it passed and re-passed the window with slow measured tread, for it’s footfalls could be plainly heard as well as the agonizing moans. Suddenly, while they stood there, too frightened to move, there came the sound of a mighty crash within the house, which seemed to shake the very foundations of the building. The moans rose to one awful sound of terror and then all was quiet.
After a time, the men tiptoed cautiously away, deciding among themselves that it was too late to investigate the matter then, but that they would do so as soon as possible in the morning. Abe Randall, who lived in the last house on the road, decided that as he hadn’t stayed with Si Parsons fer quite a spell he would that night. “‘Twas a long way and ‘sides ‘twas getting late.” Matters being thus satisfactorily adjusted quiet settled over the town.
The next morning at sunrise an excited body of men met at the store, armed with weapons of all kinds from a bayonet of “76” to a fire shovel, and fully determined as good loyal citizens to investigate that “ghost.” When they were all ready, they placed Captain Jenkins, one of the heroes of the Civil War according to his own story, at the head of the line. Two by two they marched silently down the street, thru the Ralston gate, up the grass-grown path and straight to a closed door. Here Captain Jenkins stopped and pounding on the door, demanded whosoever was within to come out, in the name of the President of the United States, the Governor of Maine, and the free and accepted citizens of Northport ! - The rusal of which request was to be punishable by such means as the free and accepted citizens saw fit. The continued pounding on the door had loosened it, and now it fell back, revealing a long dark passage leading to the cellar. Presently a white form became visible at the farther end, which came forward slowly and cautiously. The men fell back from the doorway, from which presently there came the familiar figure of Deacon Brown’s white calf. She had strayed into the house during the evening, and while wandering around, trying to get out, had fallen thru to the cellar.
So that was the result of the investigation, but it isn’t safe to say, “ghost” to the citizens of Northport, to this day.
B. A. A., ‘14
But one night, a young fellow was passing the old house, when suddenly he saw a white form pass on of the windows ; at the same time the sound of a deep groan fell on his ears. He didn’t stop to debate the matter but took to his heels and lessened the distance between himself and the old house in a most remarkable manner. He burst into the village store with his astonishing news, only to meet with incredulous looks and doubting remarks. No one had ever heard tell of such a thing. “That old house had stood thar peaceable for night onto fifty year and ‘twan’t ‘tall likely anything was a troubling of it now.” All the same the young fellow maintained that he saw something and furthermore declared that he warn’t going by that old house, alone. The men laughed at him and several of them offered to accompany him home.
They started out and reached the old house without accident, altho’ the young fellow firmly believed that every stonewall and tree harbored a white, ghostly form. He kept on the opposite side of the road while passing the old house, watching it closely. Suddenly he stopped short, “See ! Look thar !” he whispered in an awe-struck tone. “Now will you believe me ?” Sure enough they all saw the white form pass by a window, and faint, low moans came to their ears, accompanied by soft rustles like clinging skirts. The men held their breaths and gazed horror-stricken at the awful thing as it passed and re-passed the window with slow measured tread, for it’s footfalls could be plainly heard as well as the agonizing moans. Suddenly, while they stood there, too frightened to move, there came the sound of a mighty crash within the house, which seemed to shake the very foundations of the building. The moans rose to one awful sound of terror and then all was quiet.
After a time, the men tiptoed cautiously away, deciding among themselves that it was too late to investigate the matter then, but that they would do so as soon as possible in the morning. Abe Randall, who lived in the last house on the road, decided that as he hadn’t stayed with Si Parsons fer quite a spell he would that night. “‘Twas a long way and ‘sides ‘twas getting late.” Matters being thus satisfactorily adjusted quiet settled over the town.
The next morning at sunrise an excited body of men met at the store, armed with weapons of all kinds from a bayonet of “76” to a fire shovel, and fully determined as good loyal citizens to investigate that “ghost.” When they were all ready, they placed Captain Jenkins, one of the heroes of the Civil War according to his own story, at the head of the line. Two by two they marched silently down the street, thru the Ralston gate, up the grass-grown path and straight to a closed door. Here Captain Jenkins stopped and pounding on the door, demanded whosoever was within to come out, in the name of the President of the United States, the Governor of Maine, and the free and accepted citizens of Northport ! - The rusal of which request was to be punishable by such means as the free and accepted citizens saw fit. The continued pounding on the door had loosened it, and now it fell back, revealing a long dark passage leading to the cellar. Presently a white form became visible at the farther end, which came forward slowly and cautiously. The men fell back from the doorway, from which presently there came the familiar figure of Deacon Brown’s white calf. She had strayed into the house during the evening, and while wandering around, trying to get out, had fallen thru to the cellar.
So that was the result of the investigation, but it isn’t safe to say, “ghost” to the citizens of Northport, to this day.
B. A. A., ‘14
AN ADVENTURE AT OUR SUMMER CAMP
It was about the middle of the afternoon when we arrived at the little lake, on the shores of which we were going to camp out for a week.
After hauling our boat into the water, the four of us set to work and soon had our big tent, blanket rolls, and the rest of our outfit stowed snugly into out little craft ; and as the wind was favorable and blowing brisk, we got out the improvised sail and mast, with the intention of making the wind carry us to our camping place.
In a moment, Joe had the mast up and the ropes made fast, Jack climbed in and seated himself in the stern, and as Tom scrambled over the dunnage to the middle seat, I pushed off and jumped into the bow of the boat. Soon Jack paddled us clear of the rocks and headed us upstream, and when Joe Pulled the sail up we began to pick up speed and soon were going at a merry clip.
We had picked out a camping place some time before and a finer place cannot be found on the lake.
It was on the top of a high, grassy bluff that rises almost straight from the water’s edge. At the foot is a spring of cold, clear water, and scattered over the top of the bluff are a number of tall poplar trees, which seem to have been spared by the lumbermen. From the top of the bluff one can see over a large part of the lake, and the surrounding wooded hills.
As we sailed around a bend in the lake these tall trees came into sight. When Jack and Joe saw them they gave a shout of joy, and pulling out the oars, they began to row, in their eagerness to get there the sooner.
In about half an hour we landed, got to work at once and soon the dunnage up on top of the bluff ; and after the stuff was up there it was not long before we had the tent pitched, a big bed of fir tips made and the spread laid on, all ready to “roll in.”
While Jack and Joe made the bed, Tom and I dug a hole for a fire, got a couple of big stones for a “stove”, cut up some wood and had a good fire going and the pork frying by the time the bed was finished.
In an hour we had suppered on fried pickerel, which we had caught on the way up, bread and butter and hot tea, and by the time the dishes were washed and some dry wood piled into the tent, we were ready to turn in for the night. Tom covered up the fire and then we all went into the tent and crawled between the spreads.
Jack and Joe had never been camping out so far from home before, but Joe put up a bold front, saying that he guessed there wasn’t any bears around, and, anyway, he wasn’t afraid of bears.
When we got into bed Joe made haste to get into the corner farthest from the open end of the tent. At his Jack began to laugh, and said, “Look at the little ‘fraidie, don’t dare sleep near the door.” “W-e-ell I don’t want to sleep in the draft. I might catch cold ; I do awfully easy, “ answered Joe.
Tom gave me a nudge, and pushed me over to Joe, and then rolled over next to me himself. This left Jack on the outside. He stood for a moment, not knowing quite what to do, but be quickly crawled in and lay down, face to the open end of the tent.
It didn’t seem any more than five minutes after I went to sleep when Tom poked me and whispered, “Look at Jack.” I slowly turned my head. And saw, in the dim light of the night, Jack getting his rifle out of the heap of stuff at the foot of the bed, keeping the gun at his side. We felt like laughing but didn’t want to hurt Jack’s feelings, so managed to keep still, and soon we dropped asleep again.
The next time I was awakened by a bump from Joe, and at the same time I heard the bushes cracking just outside the tent. “T-there’s a b-something out there,” whispered Joe, very close to me now. “W-what do you think it is?” said he. I thought it sounded like a hedgehog, but told Joe to lift up the tent and see if he could find out. By this time Tom was awake, and to tell the truth, Jack hadn’t asleep at all.
Jack had his rifle in his hands, but didn’t seem in a hurry to go out and shoot the disturber, and Joe suddenly wanted to find his hunting knife when I told him to lift up the side of the tent.
As soon as he began rummaging around for his knife there was a snapping of teeth close up to the tent, and then we heard the animal go off through the low brush and into the woods ; but the hedgehog’s snapping teeth was too much for Joe ; he uttered a weak little squeal and scuttled under the spreads, too scared to do anything. Jack didn’t tease this time. In fact, I think he felt inclined to follow his example.
Tom told him to “hustle up and shoot him” (meaning the hedgehog), but in spite of the fact that all was now silent outside, Jack didn’t want to go outside of the tent. Said he’s get his feet wet in the dew on the ground.
As it was dark so we could not distinguish faces, Tom and I had a pretty good laugh under our breaths, and as it appeared later, we must have laughed out loud once or twice.
We soon got Joe out of the now heaped up spreads, straightened them as best we could in the dark and got into bed again - this time with Jack and Joe in the middle, Tom next the back of the tent and myself on the side next the tent-flap.
I don’t know when I went to sleep, but the first I knew Jack was tugging at my shirt-sleeve and nudging me, whispering at the same time. “Wake up, wake up, quick.” When I was sufficiently awake to understand, Jack said, “Look under the tent and cautiously proceeded to lift the wall of the tent up so I could look under. I confess I was a little frightened. There not four feet from us were two glowing balls of fire, which remained motionless and staring, like a pair of fierce green eyes. Behind them loomed a black bulky body. No wonder Jack was trembling and Joe sniffling beside him in the darkness. I let the tent drop softly, woke Tom and again lifted up the tent and gave him a look at the monster. I guess he was scared, too, for he lay staring at the glowing eyes until I got Jack’s rifle (which Jack had with him in bed) and pushed it over to him, across Joe and Jack. When I felt Tom pull the gun to him, I held up the tent and told him in a whisper to take good aim and shoot.
By this time Joe and Jack were keeping as still as mummies, except when Joe’s got beyond control and began to chatter. As Tom took aim all was silent.
The next instant the report of the gun split the silence with a sound that was deafening in our close quarters ; directly following this came a smashing crash, the tent was crushed in and the next moment we were all struggling in the dark to get out of he chaos.
The first word I heard was a wail from Joe. “Help, help, he’s got me, o-o-o-o, he’s eating me up,” followed by a string of agonized, screeches and howls. In the midst of this uproar, Jack (who seemed near me) broke in with “Now laugh, you big brave.” I was too busy to laugh just then! I was doing a big job trying to crawl from under the tent, which was held down by a heavy, clinging weight.
Naturally, for a moment we were all pretty well convinced that these was an animal on the tent and no dead one either, for when four thoroughly frightened boys get to thrashing around under a heavy canvas tent, in the dark, the noise and confusion is apt to deceive anybody.
It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two at least before I got my head under the canvas, received a scratch on my face, and quickly pulled my head under the tent again. Evidently “he” was “after” me, too. But when I stood up and tried to push the weight off from me, the canvas suddenly slipped down from my head and shoulders and - I found myself standing in a heap of dried branches, facing the east which was fast beginning to pink up with the light of early dawn.
Then I understood, and sat right down on the brush and laughed, while the other three boys floundered around under the tent beside me. Suddenly I was brought to my senses by something lurching against me, which, when I jumped up and pulled the canvas from it, turned out to be Tom. The situation was quickly explained and as quickly understood, and then the two of us set to work with a will, pulling the brush and tent from the yet struggling, Jack and Joe.
We soon had them uncovered and finally convinced them of the absence of grizzly or mountain lion, but they certainly were a pair of frightened boys.
It was lighting up fast now and by the time we had felt around in the mass of debris where the tent had been and found the lantern and a match to light it with, it was light enough for us to explore without the lantern.
We pulled the brush all off the tent and to one side, then in turn pulled the tent off our bed and the rest of the stuff, and as soon as the dry-wood was found we started a fire and sat around it while we got warm and dried our feet.
At length Jack admitted that he had first seen the eyes when he had lifted up the edge of the tent while trying to recover some cartridges that he had dropped from his hand when he fell asleep. Then he had waked me up and the reader knows what followed.
When Jack spoke of “eyes,” we all got up and did some exploring. It was daylight now, and in the place where we had seen the “animal” and the “eyes,” we found a large, old, half-rotted stump, some three feet in diameter ; this, then, was our “animal.” Near the base of the stump we found a ragged hole where Tom’s rifle had struck and entered. Next we found a couple of pieces of greenish purple wood, which, when we put it in the dark, glowed brightly. These were one on each side of the bullet hole, about four inches apart. So these bits of wood were the “eyes” that had caused the scare.
When we had told the story all over again, and each one had added the particulars that concerned him the most, we were a pretty sheepish looking quartet, and felt as sheepish as we looked.
But the brush dropping upon the tent at the same time that Tom fired puzzled us for quite awhile. As I said before, our tent was pitched under a pair of tall poplars, and it was a tangle of larger limbs that had dislodged from one of the trees and crushed the tent down over our heads.
It seems that the brush was just on the point of falling and only needed a slight shock to start it crashing to the ground ; but whether it was the jar of the rifle shot, or the sudden gust of wind that did the mischief, we couldn’t tell. However, we all agreed that we had had adventures enough for one night.
E.H. ‘13
After hauling our boat into the water, the four of us set to work and soon had our big tent, blanket rolls, and the rest of our outfit stowed snugly into out little craft ; and as the wind was favorable and blowing brisk, we got out the improvised sail and mast, with the intention of making the wind carry us to our camping place.
In a moment, Joe had the mast up and the ropes made fast, Jack climbed in and seated himself in the stern, and as Tom scrambled over the dunnage to the middle seat, I pushed off and jumped into the bow of the boat. Soon Jack paddled us clear of the rocks and headed us upstream, and when Joe Pulled the sail up we began to pick up speed and soon were going at a merry clip.
We had picked out a camping place some time before and a finer place cannot be found on the lake.
It was on the top of a high, grassy bluff that rises almost straight from the water’s edge. At the foot is a spring of cold, clear water, and scattered over the top of the bluff are a number of tall poplar trees, which seem to have been spared by the lumbermen. From the top of the bluff one can see over a large part of the lake, and the surrounding wooded hills.
As we sailed around a bend in the lake these tall trees came into sight. When Jack and Joe saw them they gave a shout of joy, and pulling out the oars, they began to row, in their eagerness to get there the sooner.
In about half an hour we landed, got to work at once and soon the dunnage up on top of the bluff ; and after the stuff was up there it was not long before we had the tent pitched, a big bed of fir tips made and the spread laid on, all ready to “roll in.”
While Jack and Joe made the bed, Tom and I dug a hole for a fire, got a couple of big stones for a “stove”, cut up some wood and had a good fire going and the pork frying by the time the bed was finished.
In an hour we had suppered on fried pickerel, which we had caught on the way up, bread and butter and hot tea, and by the time the dishes were washed and some dry wood piled into the tent, we were ready to turn in for the night. Tom covered up the fire and then we all went into the tent and crawled between the spreads.
Jack and Joe had never been camping out so far from home before, but Joe put up a bold front, saying that he guessed there wasn’t any bears around, and, anyway, he wasn’t afraid of bears.
When we got into bed Joe made haste to get into the corner farthest from the open end of the tent. At his Jack began to laugh, and said, “Look at the little ‘fraidie, don’t dare sleep near the door.” “W-e-ell I don’t want to sleep in the draft. I might catch cold ; I do awfully easy, “ answered Joe.
Tom gave me a nudge, and pushed me over to Joe, and then rolled over next to me himself. This left Jack on the outside. He stood for a moment, not knowing quite what to do, but be quickly crawled in and lay down, face to the open end of the tent.
It didn’t seem any more than five minutes after I went to sleep when Tom poked me and whispered, “Look at Jack.” I slowly turned my head. And saw, in the dim light of the night, Jack getting his rifle out of the heap of stuff at the foot of the bed, keeping the gun at his side. We felt like laughing but didn’t want to hurt Jack’s feelings, so managed to keep still, and soon we dropped asleep again.
The next time I was awakened by a bump from Joe, and at the same time I heard the bushes cracking just outside the tent. “T-there’s a b-something out there,” whispered Joe, very close to me now. “W-what do you think it is?” said he. I thought it sounded like a hedgehog, but told Joe to lift up the tent and see if he could find out. By this time Tom was awake, and to tell the truth, Jack hadn’t asleep at all.
Jack had his rifle in his hands, but didn’t seem in a hurry to go out and shoot the disturber, and Joe suddenly wanted to find his hunting knife when I told him to lift up the side of the tent.
As soon as he began rummaging around for his knife there was a snapping of teeth close up to the tent, and then we heard the animal go off through the low brush and into the woods ; but the hedgehog’s snapping teeth was too much for Joe ; he uttered a weak little squeal and scuttled under the spreads, too scared to do anything. Jack didn’t tease this time. In fact, I think he felt inclined to follow his example.
Tom told him to “hustle up and shoot him” (meaning the hedgehog), but in spite of the fact that all was now silent outside, Jack didn’t want to go outside of the tent. Said he’s get his feet wet in the dew on the ground.
As it was dark so we could not distinguish faces, Tom and I had a pretty good laugh under our breaths, and as it appeared later, we must have laughed out loud once or twice.
We soon got Joe out of the now heaped up spreads, straightened them as best we could in the dark and got into bed again - this time with Jack and Joe in the middle, Tom next the back of the tent and myself on the side next the tent-flap.
I don’t know when I went to sleep, but the first I knew Jack was tugging at my shirt-sleeve and nudging me, whispering at the same time. “Wake up, wake up, quick.” When I was sufficiently awake to understand, Jack said, “Look under the tent and cautiously proceeded to lift the wall of the tent up so I could look under. I confess I was a little frightened. There not four feet from us were two glowing balls of fire, which remained motionless and staring, like a pair of fierce green eyes. Behind them loomed a black bulky body. No wonder Jack was trembling and Joe sniffling beside him in the darkness. I let the tent drop softly, woke Tom and again lifted up the tent and gave him a look at the monster. I guess he was scared, too, for he lay staring at the glowing eyes until I got Jack’s rifle (which Jack had with him in bed) and pushed it over to him, across Joe and Jack. When I felt Tom pull the gun to him, I held up the tent and told him in a whisper to take good aim and shoot.
By this time Joe and Jack were keeping as still as mummies, except when Joe’s got beyond control and began to chatter. As Tom took aim all was silent.
The next instant the report of the gun split the silence with a sound that was deafening in our close quarters ; directly following this came a smashing crash, the tent was crushed in and the next moment we were all struggling in the dark to get out of he chaos.
The first word I heard was a wail from Joe. “Help, help, he’s got me, o-o-o-o, he’s eating me up,” followed by a string of agonized, screeches and howls. In the midst of this uproar, Jack (who seemed near me) broke in with “Now laugh, you big brave.” I was too busy to laugh just then! I was doing a big job trying to crawl from under the tent, which was held down by a heavy, clinging weight.
Naturally, for a moment we were all pretty well convinced that these was an animal on the tent and no dead one either, for when four thoroughly frightened boys get to thrashing around under a heavy canvas tent, in the dark, the noise and confusion is apt to deceive anybody.
It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two at least before I got my head under the canvas, received a scratch on my face, and quickly pulled my head under the tent again. Evidently “he” was “after” me, too. But when I stood up and tried to push the weight off from me, the canvas suddenly slipped down from my head and shoulders and - I found myself standing in a heap of dried branches, facing the east which was fast beginning to pink up with the light of early dawn.
Then I understood, and sat right down on the brush and laughed, while the other three boys floundered around under the tent beside me. Suddenly I was brought to my senses by something lurching against me, which, when I jumped up and pulled the canvas from it, turned out to be Tom. The situation was quickly explained and as quickly understood, and then the two of us set to work with a will, pulling the brush and tent from the yet struggling, Jack and Joe.
We soon had them uncovered and finally convinced them of the absence of grizzly or mountain lion, but they certainly were a pair of frightened boys.
It was lighting up fast now and by the time we had felt around in the mass of debris where the tent had been and found the lantern and a match to light it with, it was light enough for us to explore without the lantern.
We pulled the brush all off the tent and to one side, then in turn pulled the tent off our bed and the rest of the stuff, and as soon as the dry-wood was found we started a fire and sat around it while we got warm and dried our feet.
At length Jack admitted that he had first seen the eyes when he had lifted up the edge of the tent while trying to recover some cartridges that he had dropped from his hand when he fell asleep. Then he had waked me up and the reader knows what followed.
When Jack spoke of “eyes,” we all got up and did some exploring. It was daylight now, and in the place where we had seen the “animal” and the “eyes,” we found a large, old, half-rotted stump, some three feet in diameter ; this, then, was our “animal.” Near the base of the stump we found a ragged hole where Tom’s rifle had struck and entered. Next we found a couple of pieces of greenish purple wood, which, when we put it in the dark, glowed brightly. These were one on each side of the bullet hole, about four inches apart. So these bits of wood were the “eyes” that had caused the scare.
When we had told the story all over again, and each one had added the particulars that concerned him the most, we were a pretty sheepish looking quartet, and felt as sheepish as we looked.
But the brush dropping upon the tent at the same time that Tom fired puzzled us for quite awhile. As I said before, our tent was pitched under a pair of tall poplars, and it was a tangle of larger limbs that had dislodged from one of the trees and crushed the tent down over our heads.
It seems that the brush was just on the point of falling and only needed a slight shock to start it crashing to the ground ; but whether it was the jar of the rifle shot, or the sudden gust of wind that did the mischief, we couldn’t tell. However, we all agreed that we had had adventures enough for one night.
E.H. ‘13
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