Part 16

BENIGHTED TRAVELLER,

AND

HAUNTED ROOM.

A gentleman was benighted, while travelling alone, in a remote part of the highlands of Scotland, and was compelled to ask shelter for the evening at a small lonely hut. When he was conducted to his bed-room, the landlady observed, with mysterious reluctance, that he would find the window very insecure. On examination, part of the wall appeared to have been broken down, to enlarge the opening.

After some inquiry, he was told, that a pedlar, who had lodged in the room a short time before, had committed suicide, and was found hanging behind the door in the morning. According to the superstition of the country, it was deemed improper to remove the body through the door of the house; and to convey it through the window was impossible, without removing part of the wall. Some hints were dropped, that the room had been subsequently haunted by the poor man's spirit.

The gentleman laid his arms, properly prepared against intrusion of any kind, by the bed-side, and retired to rest, not without some degree of apprehension. He was visited, in a dream, by a frightful apparition; and, awaking in agony, found himself sitting up in bed, with a pistol grasped in his right hand. On casting a fearful glance round the room, he discovered, by the moonlight, a corpse, dressed in a shroud, reared erect against the wall, close by the window. With much difficulty, he summoned up resolution to approach the dismal object, the features of which, and the minutest parts of its funereal apparel, he perceived distinctly: he passed one hand over it, felt nothing, and staggered back to the bed. After a long interval, and much reasoning with himself, he renewed his investigation, and at length discovered that the object of his terror was produced by the moonbeams forming a long bright image through the broken window, on which his fancy, impressed by his dream, had pictured, with mischievous accuracy, the lineaments of a body prepared for interment. Powerful associations of terror, in this instance, had excited the recollected images with uncommon force and effect.

THE

HAUNTED BEACH,

Power of Conscience on a Murderer.

BY MRS. ROBINSON.

Upon a lonely desert beach, Where the white foam was scatter'd, A little shed uprear'd its head, Though lofty barks were shatter'd. The sea-weeds gath'ring near the door, A sombre path display'd; And, all around, the deaf'ning roar Re-echo'd on the chalky shore, By the green billows made.

Above, a jutting cliff was seen, Where sea-birds hover'd craving; And, all around, the craggs were bound With weeds--for ever waving. And, here and there, a cavern wide Its shad'wy jaws display'd; And near the sands, at ebb of tide, A shiver'd mast was seen to ride, Where the green billows stray'd.

And often, while the moaning wind Stole o'er the summer ocean, The moonlight scene was all serene, The waters scarce in motion; Then, while the smoothly slanting sand The tall cliff wrapp'd in shade, The Fisherman beheld a band Of spectres, gliding hand in hand, Where the green billows play'd.

And pale their faces were as snow, And sullenly they wandered; And to the skies, with hollow eyes, They look'd, as though they ponder'd. And sometimes, from their hammock shroud, They dismal howlings made, And while the blast blew strong and loud The clear moon marked the ghastly crowd, Where the green billows play'd!

And then, above the haunted hut, The curlews screaming hover'd; And the low door, with furious roar, The frothy breakers cover'd. For in the Fisherman's lone shed, A murder'd man was laid, With ten wide gashes in his head; And deep was made his sandy bed, Where the green billows play'd.

A shipwreck'd mariner was he, Doom'd from his home to sever, Who swore to be, thro' wind and sea, Firm and undaunted ever; And when the waves resistless roll'd, About his arm he made A packet rich of Spanish gold, And, like a British sailor bold, Plung'd where the billows play'd!

The spectre band, his messmates brave, Sunk in the yawning ocean, While to the mast he lash'd him fast, And brav'd the storm's commotion: The winter moon upon the sand A silv'ry carpet made, And mark'd the sailor reach the land, And mark'd his murd'rer wash his hand, Where the green billows play'd.

And, since that hour, the Fisherman Has toil'd and toil'd in vain; For all the night the moony light Gleams on the spectred main! And when the skies are veil'd in gloom, The murd'rer's liquid way Bounds o'er the deeply yawning tomb, And flashing fires the sands illume, Where the green billows play!

Full thirty years his task has been, Day after day, more weary; For Heav'n design'd his guilty mind Should dwell on prospects dreary. Bound by a strong and mystic chain, He has not pow'r to stray; But, destin'd mis'ry to sustain, He wastes, in solitude and pain, A loathsome life away.

THE

SUBTERRANEAN TRAVELLER;

GHOST AND NO GHOST.

The following record is copied verbatim from an old newspaper--The Weekly Journal, or British Gazetteer.

"Bedlam, January 18, 1719.

"It is not long since one of the female inhabitants of these frantic territories gave the following occasion for a very pleasing entertainment. Some bricklayers happened to be at work here, to repair and clean the passage leading to the common sewer; who going to dinner, and leaving the ladder which descended to it, standing, the said unfortunate inhabitant had a sort of an odd notion, that the workmen had been prying into the secrets of the lower world, and therefore (nobody seeing her) she went down the ladder which led into the common sewer; and, in that subterraneous cavern, finding none to control or stop her passage, she travelled, with great pleasure and curiosity, till she came to Tokenhouse Yard, which is near half a mile. There it happened that a couple of young females, coming to the vault, heard a noise below, crying, 'Who the plague are ye? What d'ye make that noise for? What, is the devil in ye?' Upon which, away flew the women, not staying to look behind them; and coming half-frightened into the house, said, the devil was in the vault. Accordingly, more company going, they still heard the same noise. Upon which they called out, and asked, 'Who's there? What are ye?' 'The Devil,' replied the traveller below. 'How came you there?' said they. 'Nay, how the devil know I?' answered the mad-woman. 'Why don't you bring me a candle, that I may find my way?' Finding it certain to be a human voice, they feared somebody might accidentally have fallen in, and therefore they immediately went to work, to deliver the poor wretch from her suffocating thraldom, and found her a lamentable spectacle; so that they began to question her how she came there, and where she lived. She answered that she was going to Hell, but had lost her way; that there were several in her company, who had got thither, and the gate was shut upon them; that she had lost her way, but should overtake them by and by. These wild expressions made some of them fancy she was a mad-woman; and, after some consideration, they resolved to bring her hither; when she was presently owned, and the people that brought her let us into the story: but her head still runs on her journey, and she talks of little else."

THE MILKMAN

AND

CHURCH-YARD GHOST.