The Haunted Homestead

THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD.

A residence for woman, child, or man,
A dwelling-place--and yet no habitation;
A house, but under some prodigious ban
Of excommunication.--HOOD.


In childhood I always had a fearless faith in ghosts. I desired before
all sights to see them, and threw myself in the way of meeting them
whenever and wherever there seemed the slightest possibility of so
doing. Whenever there were mysterious sounds heard in the night, I
listened with breathless interest, arose from the bed in silent
eagerness, and went stealing on tiptoe through the dark house in the
hopes of meeting the ghosts. Once I met a severe blow on the nose from
the sharp edge of an open door, and once a tom cat, who made one spring
from the top of the pantry shelves upon my head, and another thence
through a broken window pane. I would have liked to fancy him a ghostly
cat, only I knew him too well for our own "Tom," the cunningest thief
that ever run on four feet. Another time, perambulating through the
house at midnight, I surprised a burglar, who, mistaking me in the
darkness for the master of the house, the watch, or an ambush, jumped
straight over my head (or past me, I hardly knew which in my
astonishment), and made his escape at the back door. But I must say that
I never met a ghost, or even a "vestige" of a ghost until--but I think I
will begin at the beginning and tell you the whole story.

At the Newton Academy, where I was educated, among two hundred fellow
pupils, I had but one bosom friend and confidante--quite enough in all
discretion for one individual, though you are aware that most young
ladies have at least a dozen. My female Pythias was Mathilde Legare, a
beautiful and warm-hearted Creole from New Orleans. Orestes and Pylades,
Castor and Pollux, the Siamese twins, are but faint illustrations of the
closeness of our friendship. To say that we were inseparable is nothing
to the fact--we were united, blended, consolidated; and the one "angel"
of Swedenborg formed of two congenial spirits, is the only sufficiently
expressive example of our union of hearts. It was of little use for me
to study a lesson, for though I had never looked at it, if Mathilde only
committed hers to memory I was sure, in some occult manner, to have mine
"at my fingers' ends"--or, on the other hand, if I studied, Mathilde
might play--she would recite her task just as well. Moreover, if I told
a story Mathilde would swear to it, and _vice versa_. In short, we two
were in all cases "too many" for all the rest of the school--principal,
assistant, masters and pupils--and we afforded a striking illustration
of the truth of Robert Browning's lines--though I suppose the latter
alluded to "a true marriage," and not a schoolgirl friendship:

"If any two creatures grow into one
They should do more than the world has done,
By each apart ever so weak,
Yet vainly thro' the world should you seek,
For the knowledge and the might,
Which in such union grew their right."

As Mathilde was rich and I was comparatively poor, this friendship
brought me many advantages, among which was the privilege of annual
travel and change of scene. About the first of every July, Mathilde's
father and mother would leave their sugar plantation in Louisiana, and
travel northward. They usually arrived at the Newton Academy about the
tenth of the month, in time to be present at the annual examination and
exhibition of the pupils. Upon these occasions, Mathilde, who possessed
quickness and vivacity, rather than depth or strength of mind, generally
achieved a brilliant success; though she often told me that her triumph
in being first at these milestones on the road to fame, was nothing more
than the success of the swift-footed, careless hare over the slow and
painstaking tortoise, who would win the race at the goal.

However this might be, Mr. and Mrs. Legare were equally proud of their
daughter's genius and beauty, and to reward her "industry and
application," as they called it, they took her each year to spend the
long vacation of July and August, with them, in making a tour of the
Virginia Springs, which are the most frequented by Southerners, for the
convenience of bringing their servants with them.

Upon one occasion, however--that of the vacation preceding the last year
of Mathilde's residence at school--Mr. Legare determined to vary their
usual route by going to the Northern watering places of Saratoga and
Ballstown. And, as usual, I, with the consent of my guardians,
accompanied the party as their invited guest.