Zigzag Journeys in Northern Lands Part 2

"No; I am in a different mood to-night."

Master Lewis smiled.

Just then a quiet old lady, who had charge of a part of the rooms in the Academy, appeared, a bunch of keys jingling by her side, much like the wife of a porter of a lodge in an English castle.

"Grandmother Golden," said Charlie,--the boys were accustomed to address the chatty, familiar old lady in this way,--"you have seen ghosts, haven't you? What is the most startling thing that ever happened in your life?"

Grandmother Golden had seated herself in one of the easy piazza chairs. After a few minutes she was induced to follow Gentleman Jo in an old-time story.

GRANDMOTHER GOLDEN'S ONLY GHOST STORY.

The custom in old times, when a person died, was for some one to sit in the room and watch with the dead body in the night, as long as it remained in the house. A good, pious custom it was, in my way of thinking, though it is not common now.

Jemmy Robbin was a poor old man. They used to call him "Auld Robin Gray," after the song, and he lived and died alone. His sister Dorothea--Dorothy she was commonly called--took charge of the house after his death, and she sent for Grandfather Golden to watch one night with the corpse.

We were just married, grandfather and I, and he wanted I should watch with him, for company; and as I could not bear that he should be out of my sight a minute when I could help it, I consented. I was young and foolish then, and very fond of grandfather,--we were in our honeymoon, you know.

We didn't go to the house at a very early hour of the evening; it wasn't customary for the watchers to go until it was nearly time for the family to retire.

[Ill.u.s.tration: GRANDMOTHER GOLDEN.]

In the course of the evening there came to the house a traveller,--a poor Irishman,--an old man, evidently honest, but rather simple, who asked Dorothy for a lodging.

He said he had travelled far, was hungry, weary, and footsore, and if turned away, knew not where he could go.

It was a stormy night, and the good heart of Dorothy was touched at the story of the stranger, so she told him that he might stay.

After he had warmed himself and eaten the food she prepared for him, she asked him to retire, saying that she expected company. Instead of going with him to show where he was to sleep, as she ought to have done, she directed him to his room, furnished him with a light, and bade him good-night.

The Irishman, as I have said, was an old man and not very clear-headed. Forgetting his directions, and mistaking the room, he entered the chamber where lay the body of poor Jemmy Robbin. In closing the door the light was blown out. He found there was what seemed to be some other person in the bed, and, supposing him a live bedfellow, quietly lay down, covered himself with a counterpane, and soon fell asleep.

About ten o'clock grandfather and I entered the room. We just glanced at the bed. What seemed to be the corpse lay there, as it should. Then grandfather sat down in an easy-chair, and I, like a silly hussy, sat down in his lap.

We were having a nice time, talking about what we would do and how happy we should be when we went to housekeeping, when, all at once, I heard a snore. It came from the bed.

"What's that?" said I.

"That?" said grandfather. "Mercy! that was Jemmy Robbin."

We listened nervously, but heard nothing more, and at last concluded that it was the wind that had startled us. I gave grandfather a generous kiss, and it calmed his agitation wonderfully.

We grew cheerful, laughed at our fright, and were chatting away again as briskly as before, when there was a noise in bed. We were silent in a moment. The counterpane certainly moved. Grandfather's eyes almost started from his head. The next instant there was a violent sneeze.

I jumped as if shot. Grandfather seemed petrified. He attempted to e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e something, but was scared by the sound of his own voice.

"Mercy!" says I.

"What was it?" said grandfather.

"Let's go and call Dorothy," said I.

"She would be frightened out of her senses."

"I shall die with fright if I hear anything more," I said, half dead already with fear.

Just then a figure started up in the bed.

"And wha--and wha--and wha--" mumbled the object, gesticulating.

I sprang for the door, grandfather after me, and, reaching the bottom of the stairs at one bound, gave vent to my terrors by a scream, that, for aught I know, could have been heard a mile distant.

Both of us ran for Dorothy's room. There was a sound of feet and a loud e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of "Holy Peter! The man is dead!"

"It's comin'," shouted grandfather, and, sure enough, there were footsteps on the stairs.

"Dorothy! Dorothy!" I screamed. Dorothy, startled from her sleep, came rus.h.i.+ng to the entry in her night-dress.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FRIGHTENED IRISHMAN.]

"I have seen a ghost, Dorothy," said I.

"A what?"

"I have seen the awfullest--"

"It's comin'," said grandfather.

"Holy Peter!" said an object in the darkness. "There's a dead man in the bed!"

"Why, it's that Irishman," said Dorothy, as she heard the voice.

"What Irishman?" asked I. "A murdered one?"

"No; he--there--I suspect that he mistook his room and went to bed with poor Jemmy."

The mystery now became quite clear. Grandfather looked anything but pleased, and declared that he would rather have seen a ghost than to have been so foolishly frightened.

"Is that all?" asked Charlie.

"That is all," said Grandmother Golden. "Just hear the crickets chirp.

Sounds dreadful mournful."

"I have been twice disappointed," said Charlie. "Perhaps, Master Lewis, you can tell us a story before we go in. Something fine and historic."

"In harmony with books you are reading?"

"And the spirit of Nature," added Charlie.