THE GHOSTS TELL STORIES, AND COMPARE NOTES
At this moment another ghost came up and joined in the conversation and
said impressively: "Young gentleman, you are having the most remarkable
experience of your life. You want to see all you can, for probably never
before did man come down and see the dead as they really are—before they
get their passports. Certainly some live persons do come down
occasionally, but they do not count, for they are only those who are
buried alive, and they do not get out, as they do not as a rule live
long. All these ghosts are dead of body, but are not sufficiently
purified in soul to go free from the hindrance of bones. So they all,
men and women alike, are burdened with many of their old
characteristics, and in many ways they act much as they did during life.
Indeed, it has seemed to me that it may be quite possible that the
repetition of their least pleasant characteristics here is a sort of
punishment, and—well, all this will doubtless strike you as different
from what you had imagined. It shall be my pleasant task to tell you
anything you may wish to know so far as it lies in my power."
"I should like to know very much whether you ever want to see your
families, and how you manage to see them, and how it is that you seem to
know everything that goes on above ground."
"We lie here in the dark alone, for except for this one night in the year
our bones are imprisoned in our coffins, or wherever we lie, if, as many
of us have no coffins to lie in. That silence and isolation naturally
creates a necessity for thought, concentrated and intense. This thought
is most often connected with those whom we have left, and with whom we
have been the most closely associated in life, and so the thought becomes
desire. Thoughts are things, and they crystallize into a vehicle for our
transportation to wherever we wish to go. We then become in a measure
disassociated from the material part of ourselves, and the freed spirit
can go where it will, and as it retains its ego, it is as a general rule
anything but pleasant to go and hover around places and persons we have
left. Sometimes it has occurred to me that some of our punishment was
thus intended.
"In my life I was one of that kind of men that thought the world could
not go on without me, and I was sure that my death would leave a void
that never could be filled. And, above all, I thought that all my
well-laid plans for the benefit of my family would be allowed to relapse
into confusion. All I ever did for my family was to advise them, and the
only real benefit I ever conferred upon them was by dying, so that they
could collect the insurance I had placed on my life. Well, I have since
been obliged to float around in space, unnoticed and unheard, and
probably unremembered, while things were being done which would have had
no approbation from me, and they came out right after all. I am obliged
to admit that my family and the world at large have gained by my death.
Yet I was a very religious man and was class leader in church, and always
had prayers every morning before breakfast. I am ashamed to tell you the
epitaph they put on my stone, but I must admit in the light of what I
know now I deserved much worse."
"I should like very much to know what it was," said the reporter
eagerly.
"Very well; I will repeat it, leaving out the 'here lies,' etc.: 'He gave
Each day to Almighty God, advice of considerable worth; But his wife Took
in sewing to keep him going, While he superintended the earth.'"
"But it is much when you get to such a point that you see what were your
shortcomings in the upper world." "How much of it is out?" said another
ghost who was standing by interested in this recital.
"Oh, you know that is truth and so is easy."
"I suppose we all have shortcomings against our record when it comes to
count all the things we did and didn’t do to our wives. We seemed to
think that when we had married a woman there was nothing further to do to
make her happy, and the better and more willing she was the more we
imposed upon her. I was rather bossy myself, and I thought as you did
that this world could not get along without me, and I guess I must have
carried my bossiness a little too far. One morning Marinthy was tired of
it and fixed a plan that made me a little ashamed, for the time. She
slipped out of bed before daylight and set all the clocks ahead four
hours and then rang the dinner bell and when the family had all gathered
she told them that she did not know what was going to happen now, for
their father had forgotten to tell the Lord that it was time for the sun
to rise."
“I found her sitting at the piano”
"You are not the only one to have a rise taken out of you, for I had a
little of that sort of experience myself," said another ghost with a very
long under jaw. "I, too, liked to lay down the law for all my family to
obey. My wife was generally a meek little soul, and never questioned my
right to order even the most trifling things. But, at last she revolted
and one day during protracted meetings when two clergymen and the
vestryman of our church were at my house to dinner and we were all in
the parlor waiting for it to be ready, she opened the door half way and
crept timidly into the parlor, with a meek and browbeaten air, and asked
permission of me to breathe through her mouth as her nose was stopped
up."
Everybody within hearing laughed at this, but the ghost who had told it,
and he glared at the first speaker, but they happened to think of
something else and calmed down. One of them turned to the reporter,
saying: "Is there anything that you would like to know more than we have
told you?"
"Yes; you said that you could float around and see all that is going on.
I should like to know if any one of your friends feels or in any way
recognizes your presence?"
"They do not. We are intangible and invisible, and there is nothing to
show them that we are there, and the most ridiculous side of it is that
every one would be scared nearly to death if he or she knew that there
was a spirit in the room. Then is the time that they need have the least
fear, for there is nothing of us that could do the least possible harm."
"Are there no persons whose natures are so attuned to the spiritual life
that they can see you or feel your presence, and keep silent?"
"If there is one I do not know him or her, and frankly, I do not think
that any one ever saw a spirit. There is nothing to see. As to the return
of disembodied spirits to their old habitations, that is certainly true,
but no one knows it or can know it, and so it does no harm and no special
good."
Here the first speaker took up the question and said: "I believe that we
can influence some dreams by entering into the mind of one who sleeps and
is therefore in a measure free from all earthly thrall save life itself.
I know that three times I have been able to enter into the mind of my
daughter in her sleep, and I have impressed her so that she has shown
clearly that she recognizes my direction. But her case is a peculiar one,
as she is one whose mind is absorbed to a degree by her work so that
every waking thought is occupied with it and she elects to be alone as
much as she can. Being thus removed from most outside influences and
having no distractions aside from her own thoughts, and having what one
might define as an indwelling nature, as well as a highly sensitive
organization, she has become almost like a sensitized photographic plate,
only it is in her brain that she receives these unconscious impressions
in her sleep. When she awakens she believes she has dreamed, but the
impression is so strong that she obeys the line of conduct laid out for
her in this way. She feels somehow that it is from me that the direction
comes, and acts on it. But, from all that I have heard this is an
exceptional case."
"I think so, too," said the other ghost, "and now you know as much about
that as we do. We are but the bones and a few ligaments, and we are
waiting until such time as may suit the Master to give us release, and
move us to whatever sphere of existence He may choose."
At this moment a ghost stepped up and said in a brisk way, as though he
belonged to a newer and more active age: "Gentlemen," here he bowed to
the newspaper man, and then right and left, "what these gentlemen have
said is quite true, as my own experience will show, and if this gentleman
wishes I will tell my own story." The young man bowed and said that he
certainly should like to hear it, so the ghost said:
"That we can come out of our mouldering bodies and hover unseen about
our own homes is so. About six months after I was dead I was seized with
the most intense longing to go to my house. I have been dead but a
comparatively short time. I had been married but about two years and
naturally hated to leave my young wife. But—well—we are not always free
agents in these cases and must die when our time comes. I was run over
by a cable car," he added as he saw that all near by seemed to be
interested, and particularly the young man. "I was killed soon after the
Spanish war broke out. I did not want to go as a volunteer and risk
being shot and killed. I had a good business all my own and a nice little
home all paid for, and I had every reason to wish to live. My wife
thought I ought to leave all that and strike for glory. I tried to make
her see that glory does not go to the unit, but to the officers in
command, but it was no use, she kept it up. I could not go anywhere
without hearing bands of music and seeing soldiers, and at last it
annoyed me so that I would take any chance to avoid it. And, that is
just how I came to be killed. I started to cross a street when one car
was coming up and another going down, I never did know just how it
happened, but the wheels went over my neck. You may notice how loose it
is."
"What did you do? How did you feel? When did you know that you were dead?
Or did you know nothing until they got you out?" began the reporter
breathlessly, for somehow this accident appealed to him in an unusually
strong way.
"I knew as soon as I was out of my body. I watched them lift the car with
jacks to get me out. I felt so mad that anger swallowed up every other
sensation to think I had let myself be killed in this senseless way. But
it was no use. I followed along and was in the house ahead of my body,
and found Mary sitting there surrounded with half a dozen scarehead
newspapers around her reading about the war. They brought my body in, and
you never saw such heartrending grief. I felt sorry for her, but I could
do nothing. She sobbed and moaned and screamed with hysterics, and it
took four persons to hold her. Of course it was a shock, I admit that,
but it need not have made her such an idiot."
"I think her grief quite natural," said the reporter.
"Of course, of course. But wait till I tell you the rest. They sent for
an undertaker, one of the swell ones. Common funerals are out of date
now, or you would have thought so had you heard him talk. Honey from
Hymettus was not sweeter than his sympathy, and oil from the olive groves
of Italy was not so smooth as his tongue. He was so gentle and suggestive
in his consolatory words that before the poor girl understood she had
given him carte blanche to have a funeral such as should show the proper
amount of respect for the dead and her uncontrollable grief. Oh, yes;
everything must be such as would pour balm into that broken heart. She
had never wanted anything during my life, and she knew absolutely nothing
about business, so that glib fellow just turned her around his finger.
The funeral must be in church. That meant the music and preacher to pay
besides all the other things. There must be palms all down the aisle,
and floral pieces. I must be embalmed. Well—I hope he may be obliged to
float helplessly around and see some other fellow embalm him. And I hope
it may be a business rival! My coffin was the finest, copper-lined, with
silver handles and plate-glass top. And she agreed to it all without
asking the price. She did not know enough.
"Well, I suppose I ought to feel flattered about it, but I don't. No,
sir! And then the grave. The highest priced lot was chosen by that wily
undertaker, and the grave dug. An awning was stretched over it, and all
the earth that came out was sifted so that it should fall lightly without
that sickening thud that we hear when the clods strike the coffin.
Folding chairs were there for the mourners, and iced vichy for those who
were thirsty. Carriages were provided for every Tom, Dick and Harry that
wanted to have a free ride. My wife was the only mourner, for we neither
had any relatives. But, my employees were there, and every comfort was
provided for them. I am telling you this to show how women are imposed
upon. Why the crape upon the door was a yard wide and twice as long. The
undertaker made his strong point always saying that nothing less would be
showing the proper respect. And my own dress suit that I hadn't worn but
three times was not good enough, and so he went and put another on and
charged her a hundred dollars extra.
"While he was doing this my wife had let her friends go to the swellest
store in the city and order her mourning. They did not have to pay for it
themselves, and it felt important to be ordering the best. Nothing short
of the finest and richest Eudora cloth was good enough for the dress, and
this had to be almost covered with the heaviest Courtauld crape, like
those worn for court mourning abroad, and among the smart set here. Her
bonnet had a little roll of white in front to show that she was a widow,
and there was veil of the crape over the bonnet that reached the feet
back and front, and was reefed up in a deep fold or hem or whatever they
call it. Then there were gloves and black bordered handkerchiefs, and dull
black jewelry, and to top off with a long sealskin coat. They told her
that was the fashionable fur, for mourning, and it was better to get a
good one while she was about it, as it would always be useful. They paid
eight hundred dollars for that!
"What is the use talking any more about it. She paid her respects to the
dead in the same kind of clothes the millionaires wear, but it took the
house and lot to pay for them, and crippled the business besides. That
undertaker soaked her for three thousand dollars, and took a mortgage on
the house and furniture to pay, and the business went to the dogs in less
than six months. I used to go up and hover around and try to infuse a
little sense into her head, but it was no use. I don’t go there any
more."
This last was said with such evident dejection that the reporter asked
sympathetically why he had ceased his visits.
"Well, it is this way. One evening about six months after my death, as I
was saying, I went there and found her sitting at the piano and playing
softly and talking between bars to a young woman whom I had never liked.
She was really the principal one to lead Mary on in her fatal
extravagance.
"From her conversation I found that the mortgage was to be foreclosed the
next week. The business was at its last gasp, and I thought she seemed
more cheerful than circumstances warranted. Well, to make a long story
short she was telling her friend that she was engaged to marry a captain
in the army and that as soon as her year and day was finished they would
be married and go to Porto Rico where he was to be stationed. Well, sir,
I was so mad that I did not know what to do. All I could do was to stand
there behind the piano and listen to their gabble. I never went back
again. I don’t care if she has to take in washing to support him. Now,
wouldn't that make your hair curl?"
"I certainly think it would," replied the newspaper man earnestly. Just
then a small sized ghost stepped forward timidly and in a very polite
manner bowing and signifying that he did not wish to intrude, yet had
something to say. Several were gathered there and each evidently intended
to tell the story of his own taking off.
"Sir," said the little man as soon as he saw that the reporter noticed
him, "perhaps you might feel interested in the singular way in which I
came to die. I may almost say that I did another man’s dying for him."
"It would be very interesting, I am sure," replied the young man with a
bow. This ghost had a heavy manzanita cane with abundant evidence of the
hard knotty roots at the knob, and they were so very sharp that the
simple appearance of it was quite enough to provoke interest in the
story, so the little ghost heaved a deep sigh and began:
"I will make my story as short as possible, as time presses. I was a
young man in the best of health, when some forty-five years ago I started
to California to make my fortune. I intended to start a jewelry store in
one of the mining towns, in fact Murphy's Camp, a place well known then
as it is now. Some of the story I did not know myself at the time of my
death, though I learned it since and will incorporate it in this.
"The people of that part of the country liked to play practical jokes on
strangers—I was a stranger—and they took me in. The stage driver and all
the passengers set out to frighten me with the most blood-curdling tales
of the way travelers were robbed and murdered for their money or
belongings. As I had all my stock with me I felt very nervous. I did not
know that all this was what they called 'Joshing green horns.' So by the
time we reached Murphy's I was scared all the way through.
"We reached there just at sundown, and as soon as supper was over I went
to my room and to bed. I was very tired. This room was partitioned off
with redwood boards and was not even papered. There was just room for a
narrow bed, a small stand and one chair. I put all my things under the
bed, but I lay awake a long time, on account of strange mutterings and
moans and cries in one of the rooms. But at last I fell asleep.
"I must now tell you what I learned afterward regarding the affair. I was
an Englishman, small in size, and my hair was red and very curly. There
was in this town another English jeweler, small and with curling red
hair. He had had typhoid fever for several days and it was his delirious
moans I heard.
"All the miners of this place gathered every evening at the barroom of
this hotel, at the time of which I speak, to pass the time and play
cards. Sometimes they remained until morning. The driver of the coach was
an enormous man, strong as an ox, and as good-natured. He was a regular
fanatic about the game they call poker, and they say he would play
forty-eight hours on a stretch. They tell a story about how he and
another poker fiend kept on playing once till their cards began to smoke
before they knew the place was on fire.
"Seeing that this driver was settled for the night the hotel keeper asked
him if he would do something for him. 'Certainly, what is it?' The other
replied that the little English jeweler was very sick, and that he was
worn out taking care of him. So he asked the driver to give the sick man
his medicine at exactly three o'clock. The driver was always willing to
do anyone a good turn, and asked about the dose, and how to prepare it,
saying at the same time that the little Englishman must have been taken
very suddenly. The landlord replied that he had indeed and was scarcely
expected to pull through, and that all depended on his getting his
medicine regularly. 'And, he will tell you that he isn’t sick, and don't
want any medicine, and all that, but you must make him take it.'
"'All right,' replied the driver, 'I'll see that he takes it. You go to
bed.' They played and smoked until three o'clock, and then the big driver
mixed up the draught in a big spoon, and taking a candle he came up the
stairs. He forgot about the other Englishman, and asked the porter where
the little Englishman was that had come up that day. The sleepy porter
told him where my room was. Now I can tell the rest from my own
knowledge. I was suddenly aroused from my sleep to see an enormous form
standing beside my bed, outlined by the flickering candle on the stand,
and naturally my first thought was that I was about to be robbed and
murdered, perhaps murdered first. I called out to know who it was and the
big figure said:
"'You keep still now, and don’t get excited. No one is going to hurt you,
so just take this now, and then lie down and go to sleep. It won't hurt
you.'
"I was sure now that I was going to be drugged into insensibility and I
told him that I would take nothing. He said:
"'Now don't you fash yourself, but take this medicine, It will do you
good and is not bad to take, all stirred up with molasses.'
"'But I won't touch it,' I cried; 'you want to drug me and rob me. Get
out of here.' As I said that I pushed him away with all my strength, but
he just put his great hand around my neck and jerked me up in bed,
saying:
"'Ah, I knew you would say that. Now come on and no more nonsense.' With
that he jammed the spoon down my throat and choked me with the other hand
so that I had to swallow or strangle. So I took his dose, and he let me
go, and laid me down in bed again like a baby, but I think I fainted, for
I knew nothing more until the daylight was streaming in the window. I
found all my things untouched, but I felt awfully ill, and could scarcely
get up. But I determined to leave, if they would let me, as soon as I
could get away. When I did get down stairs everybody had heard of the
affair and they began to make fun of me. I took passage back to Stockton,
but I felt very queer. I took cold and died in about six weeks, and the
other Englishman got well. The shock and the awful dose combined with the
cold I took finished me up. What made me the maddest of all was that the
doctor I had in Stockton was some kind of a foreigner, and he could not
write English. So, my death was written down as having been caused by
'Gallumpin consumpsin'."
The whole assemblage of ghosts who were listening to this tale of woe
agreed that death sometimes has sharper stings than we know. The ghosts
with whom the newspaper man had been talking before this interruption
now gathered around him again and he thought that probably now was his
chance to learn something of the question so often mentioned of "getting
the passports." That there was to be a move onward toward some desired
goal he felt sure and at the risk of seeming importunate he asked of the
nearest one:
"Sir, is it permitted you to give me any information regarding the next
move onward, or upward, or whatever you call it, or what you mean when
you speak of your passports? I need not tell you how much I desire to
understand this."
"My dear sir, you know as much about it as we do. We all dread it while
we still desire it sincerely. We dread it because we do not know what it
will be, but on the other hand we wish the change, hoping that it will be
a step toward better things. There are some reasons of which we prefer
not to speak, why we would welcome a change. Anyone who pretends to know
more than this is a liar. You see we use strong words down here, for
truth is a fundamental principle of life after death, and we are trying
to practice it."
"And you might add," said one of the ghosts who had been talking when the
man told of his sudden taking off and his grievance against the
undertaker. "You might add that no spirit would or could harm anyone,
for in the first place he has not the power, and secondly he thinks more
of trying to undo the evil he did in lifetime than to do more,"
"Just one thing more I should like to ask, and that is if there is ever
any kind of religious service or observance down here?"
The newspaper man was growing bolder as he became better acquainted with
the ghosts, and had the welcome assurance that they would not harm him.
"There is no religion as you have been taught to consider it in any of
the underground places," replied the ghost. "It will surprise some of the
preachers when they come down to learn even the little we know. They
preach one thing, but when they get here they will find that truth in
all things, love to your neighbor, and charity to all is all that is
required of us, and I believe all that is essential to give us a chance
to work out our own salvation."
"And for punishment? Is there a hell as we have been taught? And, what
must we do to be saved? Must we join some church, and if so what one?"
They had evidently found the buffet.
"All churches lead to one goal. As it is, the One who created us has
given us all a chance to work out our own salvation after we are dead. We
can go on being ghosts, which means unredeemed souls for a few million
years and redeem ourselves. But it is hard—very hard—to overcome our
sins and weaknesses. As near as I can make it out there is a constant
advance toward perfection in everything. It began uncounted millions of
years ago, and will continue to all eternity. Evolution, the survival of
the fittest, and all those things have truth for foundation, though the
men who have been the ones to advance those theories have but the
faintest glimmering of the truth. But I think from all I have seen and
heard that Hell is that period of our existence while we are still
chained to existence, obliged to know all that goes on without power to
hinder or help. I used to preach other theology when I was a bishop, but
I see things now with my spiritual instead of earthly eyes. I think I
may say that this short life as men and women, is fraught with more
meaning than any of our previous existences in different forms—for in
this life we have been pretty nearly free agents—and a pretty mess we
have made of it all. We shall have a chance to progress to
higher—meaning better—conditions when we shall be sufficiently purified,
or at least I hope so."
"And, is there no special punishment, like frying in a cauldron of
boiling pitch and things like that?" asked the young man somewhat
anxiously, thinking at the same time of Dante's Inferno, which he had
just been reading.
"No, but there are such things as moral suffering, and one thing came to
my knowledge to-day. This is what one might call poetic justice, and it
would be comic if it were not so tragic. It is this; all the women who
have deliberately and with intention shirked the cares of maternity while
alive, are obliged to take care of the children of the poor overworked
women whose quivers were full of them on earth. There is a kind of
heavenly kindergarten, but the labors of these nurses and teachers are
quite as hard as were those of the poor mothers, and the unaccustomed and
often unpleasant labor is enough to make any poor rich woman shed tears
of rage and worry—that is, if it were a possible thing for a ghost to
cry—for the source of their tears is dried up forever. I heard one woman
say that she would give one million years of heaven if she could only have
one good cry."
"So then there is none of that weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth
that we read about and have dinned into our ears ever since we could hear,
and long before we could understood?"
"No; but don’t think that you can do wrong with impunity. Ex fatoris, is
the law, and it is always enforced in one way or another. But, we are here
to-night to enjoy ourselves as well as the nature of the occasion will
permit. Each has full permission to follow his or her own inclinations,
and—well—some of them seem to forget that they are adding to their own
term of detention. We have been talking on subjects usually avoided by
people on pleasure bent, and I should not have said so much only that I
hope it may do some good directly or indirectly. The music will soon
begin to play for those who wish to dance, and after that we shall have a
short convention, where some important questions will be discussed with a
view to interest the living public in our needs and complaints."
"Before you leave me," said the young man hurriedly, "I beg you to tell me
where the children are. I have not seen one, and I know that there are
many buried right here and others in St. Paul's, and in all other
cemeteries in the city."
"Children are never put under the same conditions as ours, and they are
taken at once to an intermediate place and classed off, according to their
ages, and they are happy in their own way. They are not allowed to remember
anything about their previous existence. They are never enlightened as to
the world and its miseries, and no one knows that it had parents or pain.
They are all equal, and all are ignorant of sin or its punishment. They
always remain little children. In short, all and every one who has not yet
reached a state of sinlessness must pass through a period of purification,
which I may say is purely mental, and only the Master knows how long or
short it will be. Some that we thought would have to stay millions of years
underground have all gone on long ago. Others who bore the very odor of
sanctity are here yet. The Master has given every one a chance to save
himself, each after his kind. I could never understand, even when I was
officiating as bishop, how it was that such a comparatively small number
of persons were to be saved from perdition, and I could not feel that a
loving Father and our Creator could have left countless billions to die
unredeemed, and then send them to that terrible hell for not knowing
something which He had made it impossible for them to know. I used to
wonder then, I do not now."
"Will you tell me? I suppose you mean the Heathen."
"Yes; I mean the Heathen, at home and in far lands. Ah, my young friend,
we all try to find a short cut to heaven. I can only say love your neighbor,
tell the truth, think only pure thoughts, and trust the rest to the Master.
He created us all, the Jew and the Gentile, the Heathen and these calling
themselves Christians. They are all alike to Him.
"Do you not see that a merciful Father, loving his own creation could not
condemn them to everlasting tortures for not believing something that he
himself had made it impossible for them to know? You must follow the same
road, and work for your passport to the next place or phase of existence,
which we all hope will be better, but of which we are as ignorant as you."
At this moment there was a faint and tremulous sound, indescribably sweet,
and no one could have told from whence it came, but it grew in volume, and
in a few minutes it had swelled louder and began to throb with the strange
thrill that makes dance music so enlivening. As soon as the music was well
under way it seemed to be the signal for every one to begin to talk. The
noise was deafening, and the young man wondered how just ghosts could make
so much confusion. He noticed three men who had evidently found the buffet,
and they had evidently made the most of their find, for they would have
been considered drunk in any other place. They were inclined to be noisy
and quarrelsome, and the young visitor feared they would pick him out for
punishment, but they seemed to ignore his presence. The bishop who had been
talking to him said:
"You see that we are still full of the leaven of unrighteousness. Ah;
there goes the most unsociable ghost I ever saw. He will never get away
from here at that rate. He thinks he is just the biggest frog in the
pond. Nobody likes him. That tall man over near him is next to him the
most disagreeable ghost here. He is so swelled up with his own
importance that he is looking with a candle for insults to his dignity.
But, deary me! Here am I, a bishop too, gossiping like an old woman. I
could be in better business, but some folks think they are the whole
bunch. I heard that expression once—in fact, recently—and it struck me
as being so forcible that—ah, me; I am forced to admit that a bishop is
no more when he gets before the Master than any other man. And if he has
not been better than the most of them he gets the same treatment. I used
to think I was some value to the world, but bishops are nothing more or
less than men down here. It has taken over two hundred years to make me
admit that much. I used to stand among other men and take their
reverential words as my just due, and when we were at the banqueting
board I took the best of everything as my right indisputable and just.
Now I take what I can get and must be content, for, as I said, all that
has passed away. You see, we have outgrown preachers down here, and I
often wonder why we ever had them. To change the subject, what are your
impressions of what you see here to-night?
“It would be impossible to define them, for I see so much that put all
my preconceived notions to flight that it will take long before I can
really understand them myself. I am sure that I shall profit by your
discourse,” answered the reporter, earnestly, for the bishop’s
conversation did give him food for reflection.
Very opportunely one of the ghosts who had visited the buffet too often
got into a wrangle, and no one knew how it happened but the young
stranger, and he kept a discreet silence, for it was not his quarrel
anyhow, but he had heard one ghost say to another:
“I notice that your name is obliterated—”
He got no further, for the other doubled up his fists and cried
indignantly:
“You're a liar! My name is Jones, and don’t you forget it.”
The first speaker was ready for a fight, but the other ghosts surrounded
them and tried to persuade Jones that the offending word was intended
for a compliment, and begged him to overlook it, so finally they shook
hands and sat down in a corner and promptly went to sleep.
The music now struck up a grand march and the ghosts formed in couples
and marched to the music, and in perfect unison. The procession
appeared interminable. The ghosts floated rather than walked. It seemed
as if millions passed along.
The people in the procession were about as well assorted as one finds
them in all marches, some being tall with short partners, and vice
versa. Some walked smoothly and with a certain degree of dignity while
others tried to take fancy steps reminding him of a cake walk. Four
persons there were who did not join in the march, a young lady ghost, a
tall man, the Egyptian princess and the newspaper man.
The young lady referred to had a timid and bashful air, and the man a
gloomy bend of the head and a morose crossing of the arms over his bony
chest, while the Egyptian was so enveloped in her wrappings that she
would have found locomotion difficult. Besides she was seated to watch
the proceedings. She rather liked being set up there, as something more
and better than the rest, and she was not blind to the fact that all the
other women were as jealous of her as they could be.
The newspaper man resumed his interrupted journey toward her, keeping
carefully out of the way of the dancers, until he approached the
princess, and with a profound bow began a conversation with her. He was
not quite sure of the proper way to address her, as she was a princess,
of no one knew what dynasty. And, a ghost besides. So, he naturally felt
a little timid, but as she seemed to smile affably he began, at the same
time taking out his note book and pencil from force of habit. Then he
remembered where he was and hastily hid them again, and thanked his
stars that no one had seen them, and recklessly said:
“Oh, most noble and highly exalted princess,” here he stuck fast and did
not know how to continue, but she deigned to smile on him. Indeed she
had to smile for the embalmer who had made a mummy of her had fixed that
charming smile on her lips with coal tar or whatever it was that they
used for the purpose. But, whatever it was it served its purpose, and
the princess smiled.
“Approach, young man” she said gently. He drew near and took hold of the
bony but small and well shaped hand and was about to give it a hearty
shake, but he remembered in time that it was the custom to kiss the
hands of sovereigns, and he was not sure enough of her rank to take any
chances, so he thought it better to make the mistake on the right side.
So he knelt and kissed the hand held out to him, while his hair stood on
end at that cold and stony contact. He wondered if in some occult way he
had not bound himself to her through eternity. She broke the charm by
saying in a voice as sweet as any one could wish to hear:
“Sir, be good enough to tell me in what way I can serve you, for I see
question in your eyes and desire in your heart?”
This did not reassure him, for he did not half like the idea that all
his thoughts were so evident, but he tried to do the best he could under
the circumstance by saying lamely:
“Most noble of princesses, I will not try to disguise from your highness
that I should be most grateful if you would tell me something about your
illustrious self and how you came to this country and anything you may
have seen in your long pilgrimage. Your highness must have seen many
things that the world would like to know. The master of ceremonies said
that you are more than five thousand years old, yet I find you young and
beautiful—” Here the reporter stopped and strangled, for he happened to
remember that she could read his thoughts, and he had said in his mind,
‘Now we shall see how long a woman remains susceptible to flattery,” and
the cold sweat broke out on his forehead, but she only smiled more
graciously than before, and said:
“I now perceive that you are not one of those vulgar curiosity seekers
like those who tore me from my tomb, where I had hoped to sleep until my
summons came. There is very little to tell. I have seen but about four
thousand and nine hundred and fifty years, so I am not so old by
considerable as that gentleman said, and doubtless in good faith. But, I
have seen nations, races and armies melt away so that no trace of their
existence remains, no stone of their habitations is seen above ground,
and I have seen lands change their boundaries and the new rise up out of
the old. Kings and queens have become dust and buried so deep in it that
no one can tell where they were. Yes; I have seen so much that it would
require a lifetime to tell you the half.”
“Ah, did your highness ever see Cleopatra? She has always been a
prominent figure in Egyptian history—and—she has been much discussed. I
should like to know something of her from a contemporary.”
“Oh,” she replied stiffly, “I scarcely know to which Cleopatra you
refer. There were several of them, but I suppose you refer to she who
reigned last and was the cause of the overthrow of the nation, and who
killed herself with an asp.”
“Yes, your highness, that is the one,” replied the young man eagerly.
“Well, in the first place, that queen is entirely too modern, and she
reigned something like three or four hundred years before the Christian
era, while I came from the family of one of the first of the real
Egyptian sovereigns. She was not even Egyptian, being only of Greek
origin. We did not recognize her when she died and she was not even
mummified, for the Romans would not have allowed it, and so no one ever
knew what ever really became of her body. It did not interest us, as she
was an upstart who had brought all sorts of evils upon my country. She
is doubtless dust and ashes two thousand years ago. She was greatly
overrated, and was nowhere near so beautiful as she has been considered.
I belonged to the first dynasty, though there had been many kings and
queens before me. My tomb was like those of the first royal ladies of my
line. I had never been married—nor had I reigned, so according to usage,
my tomb and sarcophagus were plain, save for the paintings on them to
tell who I was. One day some vandals came and rifled my tomb and took my
mummy case, and brought it to this country and put me in the museum in a
glass case, and you have no idea how angry it makes me to have to
squeeze out. May the jackals eat their bones, and leave no two of them
together, so they will never find them in this world or the other and
may wild beasts tear their children, and leave the mothers desolate, and
raze their dwellings, and may their babes starve to death, and may they
all die crying for water—”
How much longer this would have continued the newspaper man did not
know, but he began to feel most uncomfortable, for one of these very
collectors of mummies was his own father, and if he had not brought his
particular one he had brought two others. He began to want to go home,
but he tried to look sympathetic, and as if he had never heard of such
terrible things as stealing mummies before. She continued:
“Yes; I am lady Shep, and when I was mummified these lines were put upon
my case. Not everybody knows about them, but I will tell you. First,
there was a line of text, and this is what it says:
“Royal offering of Osiris Unifer (the good being), great lord god of
Abydos, may he give every good thing, libations to the Ka (Double) of
the Osiris, the lady of the house, the honorable Shep (justified).’ This
means that I lay a day and a night in the underground temple in the arms
of Memnon, and all the good deeds I had done were weighed, and when they
were found to be more than the evil ones I was justified. On the other
side was this inscription: “The worthy mistress and daughter of Ru-ru,
Justified; her mother was the lady of the house, Tarerust, Justified,
and worthy.’ On the left is another with the goddess Maat, and there are
other gods and goddesses, all saying that Shep, the lady of the house,
is justified and worthy of a place among the illustrious dead. We did
not have to go under the same peculiar conditions as do you who have a
different way of burial and belief. Perhaps because our bodies are made
imperishable we come under another division. I cannot tell, but this I
know, I slept peacefully when I should and did no harm when I came out
at the command, and then the explorers as they call them, came and took
me from my country so far away that I shall never see it more.”
“Is there no way by which you could go back?” asked the young man,
touched by her sorrow.
“No: for the scientific men would never let me go. Because my mummy case
is the best one they have, and I am told that men of science have no
honor and no feeling where it concerns the despoiling of tombs, whether
they be of our people, or the red Indians who have built mounds or the
Mexicans, or the old Peruvians. And, besides, we ghosts cannot cross the
ocean in spirit form unless our bones go too.”
“May I ask why?” questioned the young man, really distressed by what he
heard, and now understood as he could not have done a day, even a few
hours before.
“Because the spirit is an essence, and the cold of the water chills it,
and renders it powerless to float, and so I can never behold the dear
country of my birth again.”
“What if I stole your mummy from the museum and took it back to Egypt?”
said the young man, carried away by sympathy.
“We have often talked of just such a contingency nights up there, and we
all agreed that if ever we did find any one who was willing to try, he
might be beheaded after unheard-of tortures by the authorities of the
museum, but if one could succeed we would make him the richest man in
the world. We know many secrets. What if I told you that I know where
the kings of the first and second dynasties got their gold and precious
stones? I know where kings of the second dynasty got emeralds in such
profusion that we scarcely cared for them. I was dead then, but I
suppose that a woman never quite loses her interest in gems. I could
take you to a place where you could get all the finest emeralds that you
could carry.”
This particularly appealed to him as the emerald was his birth stone,
according to the astrologers, and besides he liked them better than any
other. He remembered also that emeralds were the fashionable stones for
the time, and that a fine emerald was worth more than a diamond of the
same size. Therefore he was impressed.
He asked her when he could see her again and she answered that it must
be just one whole year before she could come out of her sarcophagus in
visible form, and when he wanted to try to communicate with her spirit
she told him that such a thing was impossible, and had never been done
by any spirit that ever floated. But he could come to the museum a year
from then and manage somehow to stay in the building over night, and
they could then discuss the situation, and see if some way could not be
found by which she could be returned to her country. The young man
thought if he could manage to get enough of this wealth of jewels to
handle he could find some way to buy up the attendants. But he felt
delicate about speaking of such a plan, for fear she would not
understand that he didn’t dare anything so dangerous without having
money enough to silence all scruples of the night watchmen. He also
thought to himself that probably no other man living had ever made two
appointments like the two he had made this night; one to bring the good
natured ghost a bottle of rum and a package of tobacco, and another with
a mummy in a museum to make arrangements to steal her and carry her back
to Egypt. It was enough to make one’s hair stand on end. He thought he
might be able to fix it with the ghost so that he could deposit the
things in some safe place, because he felt that the affair with the
princess was the more important. He was about to discuss the plan more
fully when the grand march ended and the floor manager shouted:
The dance and cake walk
“There will now be given a selection of the newest songs, such as are
sung in the theaters above ground. You are requested to listen quietly,
or if you must talk let it be in whispers, for it is very disconcerting
for a singer to be interrupted by conversation during the time he is
trying to amuse you.”
The invisible band began to play and a man stepped out in the middle of
the floor, while all the others formed a circle around him. They were so
many that no one could have counted them, and all kept an expectant
attitude, so that the words just uttered seemed quite unnecessary. As the
music continued he was astonished to find that it was a rag-time dance
and “coon song” combined just as he had seen only a few days ago in one
of the theaters. As the man sang this the whole assembly took it quite
seriously and applauded him with the rhythmic regularity of a theatrical
claque, and then the same ghost bowed with a certain grace and to a
persistent encore he stepped forward and began a cake walk, accompanied
by a song about kissing your baby. The whole thing was so ludicrous that
he nearly had a fit in trying not to laugh. He dared not give way to
mirth, for they all seemed to take the matter so seriously that he was
not sure as to what might happen to him. The princess was quite amused
by this song and dance, and after the applause was over he asked her if
she would like to dance, and she replied that none but slaves danced in
her country, and they did so simply to amuse their owners. He was still
under the stimulus of suppressed laughter and regarded the invitation as
a good joke, but he would have changed his mind if she had not said
sweetly:
“Of course you could not know it, but princesses could not so demean
themselves.”
“I beg your most noble highness to pardon my ignorance. I will not
offend again.” Then to change the subject he said hastily: “I saw some
Egyptians dance at Chicago, at the exposition, and also at Buffalo, and
I suppose the slaves danced much like that in your day. They say that
customs change little in those old places—that is—ah—in regard to such
pastimes—” stammered the young man suddenly conscious that her painted
eyes were flashing fire. She said haughtily:
“Do you refer to the dance called couchee-couchee? If you do, I will say
that any slave that tried that on us of the old times would be short on
heads so soon that she would not know what had happened to her.” Then in
a tone of disgust, she continued as if to herself:
“Now wouldn't that rock you to sleep?”
The manner in which this was said left no doubt in the mind of the young
man that he had made a mistake, and he tried to pull himself together
and said lamely:
“How did your illustrious highness learn to speak English so well? Why,
you even seem to have learned our idioms.”
“I have not lain in that museum so long for nothing, and all day and
everyday there are men and women sitting around and snooping into things
that do not concern them in the least. I cannot help hearing them, and
their English is more remarkable for force than elegance, as you
doubtless know. Now, in my time there was no difference between the
language of the people and the slaves. We had a shorter vocabulary, and
its very simplicity has made it possible for those who like to study
into these things to read it.
“We were satisfied with what we had, but it seems to me that you are
always seeking after new expressions, and I must say that I think our
way was best. Yet, I find myself contaminated by the ungrammatical
conversation of the throngs who frequent the place where I must stay.
But unpleasant as that is, it is as nothing beside the conversation of
the people who think they know it all, and their ignorance about things
only six or seven thousand years ago is awful. To hear them flounder
along and try to learn from what they see is bad enough, but nothing
beside hearing those who think they know it all try to enlighten others.
We can excuse one who is really ignorant and makes no secret of it, but
the glib fellows who go on and talk of dynasties and Pharaohs—why they
don’t know the difference between a Pharaoh and a Sardanapalus. And,
they, like everybody else, think that Cleopatra was the only queen in
Egypt, and she was, as I said, so painfully modern. It is now too late
to talk much and so I will say good-bye until next year. And do not
forget that my mummy case is in the main aisle, near the archway leading
to the second room. You cannot miss it, besides I will be there waiting
for you. We can talk at our ease, and I do hope that some way can be
devised by which I can be taken back to Egypt. Ah, dear Egypt, where
rain and thunder come not and snow and ice are unknown.”
“I will certainly be there if I am alive, and—beshrew me—(this sounded
like the sort of thing one ought to say to a princess)—if I don’t find
some way to get you back to Egypt once more.”
Then bowing to the princess he withdrew to make place for a man who had
been standing there some time waiting to approach her.
“I wonder what has become of the Sociable Ghost?” thought the young man.
He looked around, and seeing so many ghosts, and no sign of his friend,
he suddenly felt himself grow very uneasy. What if he could not find his
way out of this place? But his heart beat a little more regularly as the
floor manager shouted loudly:
“Ladies and Gentlemen: We are about to be specially favored by hearing a
song composed and sung by our friend, Capt. ———. He assures us that no
one else has ever heard it, as he used to sing it only at night when at
sea during storms. I have the honor—Captain ———.”
Here the floor manager bowed and retired. The Captain proved to be the
ghost who had brought the young man down here, and he took his place
while the invisible music burst forth with a strong rush of sound that
reminded the young man of the winds and waves in a storm at sea. The
ghost began in a deep bass voice:
“With a hey and a ho for the white sea horses, Plunging and tossing on
ocean's crest; With a hey and a ho for the warning they give us, The
sailor's heart sinks low in his breast. They fight fierce battles there
in the water, Till the surface is covered white with foam, The waters
toss and are churned to lather That touches the edge of heaven's dome.
Deep in the depths the shadows thicken, As gather the sharks from down
below, And high in the heavens the storm clouds hover, As prancing
fiercely the white horses go. Then in the black darkness we hark to the
breakers, Dashing upon the bleak rocks their foam, Beaten to froth by
the white sea horses, And none of the sailors reaches his home.”
As this song was finished there was a regular salvo of applause, and in
more ways than one, for the clapping of the fleshless hands was like the
cracking of musketry. The ghost seemed to be pleased by the evident
appreciation of his efforts, and sauntered over to the young man who
expressed his pleasure so warmly that even an opera singer would have
felt satisfied with such approbation and he requested permission to copy
down the song, for sung in a grand and sonorous basso it had seemed to
be a fine one.
When the last few desultory claps of applause at this song had died away
the floor manager called out:
“Take your partners for a quadrille.”
In a minute there was such a bustle that the newspaper man could
scarcely hear himself think, but soon the sets were formed, and the
whole immense place was filled with dancers, all in sets for quadrille.
The music changed at the right moment, and the floor manager called out
in stentorian tones:
“Salute your partners.” And they all bowed in the regulation manner.
Considering the almost universal poverty of wearing apparel, the ghosts
danced and made a graceful appearance. There was scarcely enough cloth
in good condition to have made a dress, but that fact did not seem to
strike them as worth consideration. The manager cried:
“First two forward and back, cross over, balance to your partner, back
to your place, all promenade.” Continuing he led them through all the
mazes of what he called allemand right, allemand left, all sashay, and
so on until the whole was finished.
All the ghosts appeared to enjoy the free movement of the dance and to
them it mattered little if the usual attire for such functions was
conspicuous by its absence. The young man thought that as they had
ghostly food and drink, furniture and decorations, perhaps they imagined
their clothes as well. Then he suddenly remembered those tables. It
struck him as curious that they had come and disappeared like things in
some fairy tale.
As he watched the dancers, who were now waltzing, he thought of a
curious experience that had happened to him a year ago. He had a ticket
to go to Albany on the day boat, and he thought it would be a pleasant
trip and a rest, for he had been working unusually hard for a fortnight.
He had never made this trip and thought he would enjoy the beauties of
the scenery, and incidentally, repose his mind.
The night before he was to make this trip he had a most vivid dream. He
thought he was in a primeval forest and saw huge misshapen monsters,
great prehistoric creatures, whose bones only now tell of their
existence. Among them he saw a monstrous elephant covered with hair, and
with immense tusks curved like those found among the eternal glaciers in
far off lands. There were other strange animals and giants. As he went
along he heard in one place a swishing like that of silks swirling in
the dance, and a soft rhythmic sound, but nothing could he see until he
suddenly turned a corner, and there was a room with hundreds of men and
women dancing, but they all seemed to him to be dead. He turned to find
some one who could explain this strange thing, but no one was near, and
when he turned to look at them again they had all disappeared and an
enormous gorilla stood in the place where they had been.
Then he awoke, and attended to his business of getting ready, and at the
last moment hurried down to the boat. After the manner of busy men he
reached there just as the bell was ringing, and when he went to hand in
his ticket, he remembered that he had left it on the bureau, safely
folded in a clean handkerchief. He said a word or two in appreciation of
the situation, and then said to himself that since he could not go to
Albany he would go to Rockaway. He had never been there, though it was
so near by. The boat was just ready to start and the price for a round
trip ticket but fifty cents.
The sail down was uneventful, and as it was a week day and near the close
of the season, he found very little to interest him there, so when he
came to a museum, such as flourish at places like that, he decided to
enter there to while away the time until the boat was ready to sail. As
he entered the door, he saw the primeval forest of his dream, and every
monster he found in just the same position. He thought he was living in
the days long before man had entered into the history of the world.
Wondering at this dream which had so curiously “come out,” he suddenly
found himself at the same place of which he had dreamed, where he had
seen the dead folks dancing. He heard the same soft swish of silk, and
the same subdued murmur and there were marionettes, hundreds of them all
strung on invisible wires, and all dancing around in a mad revel that
had something uncanny about it, particularly when taken in with the
singular dream as a background.
Now he was down under Trinity Church looking at a revel far stranger,
and he began to wonder if he were not a medium in spite of what the
ghosts told him. He knew that the first experience was true, and he did
not doubt that this one was equally so, and he thought that from now on
he would take up the study of the unknowable and make an exhaustive
research into all things relative to ghosts. Once before he had had a
serious intention of writing a book on the subject of ghosts, authentic
ones, but when he tried to get the matter together he found that the
nearest he could come to what he wished to find was, that no one person
not an avowed spiritualist, would admit having seen a real ghost, but
nearly all knew of some one whose aunt or grandmother had heard of some
one whose friends had thought they did see one. So he gave up that plan,
but now he thought he might get notes enough to make a book on the
subject, but then he might be injuring his plans regarding the princess.
He compromised with himself by saying that if his plan for her
deliverance failed he could then give the necessary time to the book. He
regretted that he had not got his kodak along. What a chance it would
have been to get that line of ghosts as they marched by, and what would
he not have given for a snap shot at that “coon dance.”
After the waltz the company broke up into groups and talked or
promenaded around in couples, and it was a sight to remember forever to
see the young lady ghosts as they walked or hung their heads and tried
to look conscious at some tender compliment. The ghosts really had
something of the semblance of life about them, for though they had no
features left, nor eyes, there was some kind of inner light and a
radiance which took the place of flesh. It was as though the soul had
shed a soft light of its own over the fleshless skull and lent it
something of its former appearance, and the thought came to him that
perhaps these ghosts only saw the spiritual part of each other and just
as he decided that such must be the case, as nothing else would account
for so much that was otherwise unaccountable, there happened something
to put all such ideas to flight, for the three ghosts who had looked
upon the wine when it was red, seemed to have awakened under the
impression that they were being neglected, and started a row, and began
hitting out at any one in reach, be it man or woman, and so unexpected
was the assault that the skeletons went down in heaps and lay there like
so much new mown wheat.
The whole thing was so ludicrous that the newspaper man thought he must
laugh or die. But he had been schooled not to laugh at the foolishness
of others. That training stood him in good stead now, and he did keep
his face straight by promising himself the luxury of a laugh the next
day.
This control over his risibilities saved him from disaster when
interviewing a great society woman one day. She told him that she could
never bear to have any publicity, and really felt that the privacy of
her home was sacred to her, and nothing about it ought ever to be put
into any paper, while at that very moment he had her letter to his chief
in his pocket, asking that a reporter should be sent to write a
description of her house, which was one of the finest on Fifth Avenue.
Her very virtuous indignation under the circumstances was so refreshing
that the young man had found it a great and severe task to control his
amusement, and ever since that experience he had been practicing
self-control. If there is one thing more than another calculated to
afford abundant practice in this line it is being a society reporter.
So now he even refrained from clapping his hands when the Sociable Ghost
appeared with a bound, in spite of his sore toe, which the young man
noticed was held up rigidly, notwithstanding the activity of the rest of
the bony body. He laid the three flat with three well directed blows,
and set the beholder to wondering what he could have done had he not
been hampered by his troublesome foot.
When the three lay flat in a heap, he pushed them over into a corner
with his well foot and told them to lie there and not to dare to move
again until he gave them leave. One of them had lost one of his legs in
the fracas, and began to howl that he was all broken up. He begged some
one to pull him out and get his leg for him. The Sociable Ghost said, as
he rubbed his bony hands together:
“Say, oh, I say! This is fine! I have not had so much fun since I died.
It brings back old times, and for one ineffable moment I thought I was
back on my ship again and fighting out with a belaying pin at the
mutineers. Oh, yes; I had a mutiny to deal with about every six months.
It was fun. Danger? No, for the Captain always holds all the trump
cards, and I was always ready to play them. By George, I was! And this
brings it all back to me. Oh, I say; I must show you something a little
out of the usual order. It is my wife’s second husband. He is among the
ghosts invited here from Derby, and I think it was a little cheeky for
him to come here, don’t you?”
“What are you going to do to him?” asked the young man with some natural
curiosity.
“I am going to do just nothing to him. The poor chap has had troubles of
his own with her—enough to balance any ill will I might have had. Now,
my wife was, or rather is, for she is not dead yet, the kind of woman
that what she wants goes, whether you want it to go or not. I was
captain on board my ship, but she was the captain at home, and I was
crew and cabin boy combined. Maybe I was a bit breezy toward my men when
I got to sea again after a month or so on shore. Well: my wife had a
portrait of me, and about every half hour she used to hale my successor
up before it and tell the poor devil to look at it and see a man and,
what one looked like. She dinned my virtues into his ears so much that
at last the poor wretch died in self-defense.”
“And where is the lady now?” asked the young man with interest.
“Somewhere in Boston, I believe. The last I heard of her she was giving
my money away to the missionaries. I never had any use for missionaries,
dead or alive. They come on board your ship, and the best you have is
not too good for them, and they want to hold service every Sunday. I
know a missionary as soon as I hear him speak. They always say Sabbath
for Sunday, and babe for baby. There's lots of them down here.”
For once the newspaper man forgot his tact, and said:
“I should think that you would have been glad to have them hold service
for the sailors. I have heard that they are mostly amenable to religious
instruction and guidance.”
“Yah! Just stow that. The sailors don't want any of their salvation any
more than the Chinamen, and it don’t do any more good. You can't make a
silk purse out of a pig’s ear, and sailors are nothing more than living
machines when they are on board ship. They are all right aboard ship,
but they are no good on land, and whoever wants to do a good turn to a
sailor wants to see that he gets a ship as soon as the voyage is done.
They need knocking down every day with a marlinspike, and to get a taste
of the rope’s end every ten minutes, to give them a good appetite so
they won't be forever grumbling about their grub.”
The Captain might have continued indefinitely had not a polka struck up,
and all the ghosts began to dance again. The dance of the marionettes
came back to the young man’s mind with insistent force, but he tried to
hide his amusement.
To keep out of the way of the dancers the young man drew back and walked
along close to the wall, and as he did so he was suddenly struck by the
sight of a man stooping down so that he could eat out of a dish on the
buffet without touching it with his hands. It was such a strange sight
that he could not help making a mental note of it, and he really thought
that he had not let the ghost see his curiosity. But it was not so, for
the ghost turned and faced him and said sadly:
“Sir, I hope you will not think that my disgusting action is done through
ignorance, nor even a lack of decency. I simply cannot eat any other way
and I am very hungry. Owing to my affliction I could not present myself
at the table with the others, and I thought that while all the others
are dancing, I could satisfy my hunger without being noticed.”
The newspaper man felt that here was another case of misery out of the
ordinary, and he asked the ghost to tell him his trouble, and if it was
anything that he could be of assistance in he would be glad to do all in
his power. The ghost came to his rescue in a most unexpected manner, by
suddenly holding up two mutilated stumps of arms. They had evidently
been splintered off between the elbows and shoulders. By no effort could
the poor fellow have been able to reach his mouth with either stump had
he tried.
The reporter understood at once and felt so sorry for him that his
usually ready tongue refused to form a word. He thought that it was more
than probable that this accident had taken place in the Revolutionary
war, and then he thought that that was too far away, and doubtless he
must be one of the heroes of the Civil War. But the ghost as if
answering a question, said:
“No, it was not in any war that my arms were smashed like that. If you
would be so good as to help me get something to eat, I will tell you
about it later. You can cut up some bread and meat and I must eat them
right off the dish, and drink the best I can. It is very humiliating but
I must bear it.”
The young man took of the different viands and cut them into convenient
pieces and then offered to hand them on a fork. If ghosts could shed
tears of gratitude from their hollow eyes this one would surely have
wept, so much was he touched by the action. He ate and drank with an
excellent appetite, and when he had all that he desired, he said:
“Now, sir, I am at your disposal. I will tell you why it is that I am
reduced to this condition and am obliged to eat like an animal. The
story began in life, and it was not until I had been down here two years
that this happened. I found an enemy and he it was who made me this
pitiable object. The reason? Oh, I lived in New York in a handsome house
of my own in Sixty-fourth Street, near the park on the East Side. I
mention this, as the proximity has something to do with the story. That
is, the big reservoir is there and that causes a higher pressure of
water in the houses there than in almost any other part of the city. I
lived there in peace and contentment, and was something of a savant. So
you can see that I am not altogether to blame for what follows. You know
how all the houses are built, one beside the other. On the West side of
my house was that of a man—well—we will call him Dinklespiel. That was
not his real name—but it is good enough for him after the way he has
treated me. Yes; I will call him Dinklespiel. Well; his front door was
right beside mine. You could reach into his hall way over the low stone
division. The next house on the East side was the whole width of the
house away. Now, if Mr. Dinklespiel had lived in that house this would
not have occurred.
“It so happened that our man who attended to all these things for me was
out in the country getting the place in readiness for our annual
flitting, and there was no one to clean the sidewalk and we had had coal
in the day before. I admit that it would have been better to hire a man
as my wife suggested, but somehow I felt like doing it myself, and that
is how the trouble began.”
Here the ghost appeared lost in reflection so the young man asked what
would have been better left to a hired man. The ghost shook off his
distraction and resumed.
“Why, I got the garden hose—well—I got the hose and washed down the
sidewalk. I told you about the high pressure, and that was the cause of
it all. I got the hose,—the hose—and dragged it up from the cellar, and
told the girl to go down and turn the water on, when I whistled. This
hose was bought to protect us from fire as well as to wash the sidewalk
and water the grass in the back yard, and it had a nozzle one inch in
diameter. It was a big hose, and when James took hold of it I always
noticed that his face grew red as though he found it hard to hold. But I
always thought that it was his ignorance that made him so afraid of it,
and I was sure that I could manage it all right and I even rather prided
myself on the showing I should make of the triumph of mind over matter.
I had never tried to manage a hose before, and even now I should not, I
think, have had any trouble if there had been no hole in the hose.
“I drew the hose up into the area way, and then whistled, and the girl
turned on the water. Why, my dear sir, it nearly jerked me off my feet
before I knew what had happened to me, and I held the nozzle straight up
with both hands with all my strength, and pointed the stream upward so
that I could get a little accustomed to it, and at the same time wash
down the front of the house. Suddenly I heard a strange sound in the
dining room where my little boy was looking at me, and saw that I had in
some way for which I could not account nearly drowned him. I heard him
run screaming up stairs to his mother, and then I thought I would go up
the front steps and play on the second story windows, for it was summer
and everything was dusty. Once I had learned to manipulate the hose, it
was a delight. I had partially overcome my fear of it. Why, the violent
stream rushed out like steam from an overheated boiler. It fairly
screamed, the force was so great. Well, I played on the windows and then
on the whole front of the house, and was enjoying my labor when I became
aware that the servant was calling me from the area, and I bent over to
hear her, keeping firm hands on the powerful nozzle that was twisting
and trying to wriggle out of my hands all the time. Just as she opened
her mouth—well—somehow she got very wet, and sat down in the middle of
the area, and I turned around so that she should not think I was
laughing at her miserable plight. Anyhow I had done enough up there and
I intended to attack the dusty sidewalk, when my wife came to the front
door and opened it unexpectedly just as I was in the act of turning, and
somehow she received the full force of the stream right in the face and
she went down like a shot. No one could blame me if in the face of this
disaster I forgot and left the squirming hose to work its will and tried
to raise her.
“She did not wait for me, however, but told me with a withering look to
take that thing down cellar at once. I tried to explain, but she shut
the door, and I started to obey her, but, sir, you could scarcely believe
me, but I had lost control of the thing, and the more I tried to manage
it the worse it got, and at last I found that there was a hole in the
hose about a foot from the nozzle and that was running in opposition to
the nozzle. I was wet to the skin, and the more I tried to get down the
steps the worse it wriggled and twisted until I was at my wits’ end to
know what to do.
“At last I seemed to obtain a little command of it and was in the act of
turning around to come down when I became conscious that there was a
hearse and two carriages drawn up in front of my next neighbor's house,
and before I could move the door opened and six men came out bearing a
large coffin. I was struck dumb and almost blind, and did not know what
I was doing, and—well—before I came to my senses every one of those
pall-bearers was wet through, and the force of the water threw the
flowers in every direction, and as if this were not enough the vicious
stream hit the clergyman directly between the eyes and made him fall
backward, and that was the reason that a number of people who had
gathered to see a funeral at that unusual hour laughed. I was actually
paralyzed with the whole thing and stood there helpless, trying to hold
up the nozzle, not knowing that it was pouring floods into the vestibule
of the dead man’s house. Finally some one came up the steps and took the
wretched thing away from me, and dragged it down to the area, and I
scarcely knew enough to go after it.
“I have often thought that scientific men are not quite so well adapted
to cope with the small things of daily life as those more in touch with
mundane affairs. I was so distressed at my complete failure to master so
simple a thing as a hose, and above all at the terrible disaster which
had befallen me in the involuntary disrespect to my neighbor, that I was
like a man dead.
“He had been away and died and was brought home for burial, and that was
why the funeral was private and so early, for he was to be taken quite a
distance for interment.
“So you can conceive of my distress, particularly as my wife did not
feel willing to console me. On the contrary, she said quite a number of
things which I am sure she would have left unsaid had she reflected. And
I had to get her a new frock and one for the servant. After a while the
neighbors stopped asking me impertinent things about my garden hose, and
I was beginning to feel a little better about it when I fell ill and
died.
“My funeral was marked by decorum, and everything passed off well. I was
not sorry to come here for I had studied a little of everything else,
and this being the unknowable held certain charms for me. I am of a
philosophic nature, and very adaptable, and soon became quite content
here, for if there are some drawbacks, there are some compensations
too.”
“What are they?” asked the reporter hastily, and not remembering that he
was departing from his usual custom.
“Well, the greatest is—speaking generally, you know—that you can do no
more wrong, and that you must progress, for nothing in nature can
retrograde. We feel that we may advance in the scale of the great plan,
and that our powers of evil are null, so we can hope. We do not know
what we can hope for, but we are not hindered from hoping that there is
something to hope for. But, the old desires, old frailties die hard and
slow. But, all that is not the story of my misery. I came down here, and
for a long time had no special trouble, and met in convention twice. I
tried to study out all I saw, until one night I saw my neighbor whose
funeral I had so unintentionally desecrated. He had been removed to
another cemetery nearer and so was here as a guest.
“As soon as he saw me he acted as if he had been suddenly restored to all
the vigor of life, and its animosity, for he followed me around all the
evening until he found me in a corner studying the sculpture on one of
the pillars. He knocked me down and jumped on me and kicked me until it
is a wonder how I have a whole bone left. I could have tied any other
bones on, but how could I tie without hands? I am sure that if he had
given me the opportunity to explain how this unhappy affair had come
about he would feel sorry that he was so rough. But he wouldn't listen
and so he will never know.”
“Yes, he will,” said a voice right behind them, and as the reporter and
the armless ghost turned together they saw another ghost, and he
continued his unexpected conversation.
“I have heard your story, sir; and regret that I was so violent. I was
exasperated beyond measure, as I was always a great stickler for strict
decorum, and I was not to blame if I thought you did that on purpose.”
The armless ghost was so affected that he would have fallen had not the
other put his arms around him, and the chances for a complete
reconciliation were so good that the reporter felt himself de trop and
silently slipped away.