Democratic Sentinel, Volume 2, Number 3, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 March 1878 — MY UNCLE BEN. [ARTICLE]

MY UNCLE BEN.

My Uncle Ben believe in ghosts ? Of course he did ; he used to say: “No modern mansion of stucco and plaster for me ; give me a grand old house, all covered by ivy and hidden by trees, whose walls are hung with tapestry, and whose passages, extending from room to room, make the blood curdle with their gloom and length. Why, sir, there is something enlivening even in its decay; the dampness of its walls, and the cracks in the discolored ceilings, which only suggests to the vulgar mind ague and rheumatism, are evidences to me of its venerable age and respectability. The very mice that scamper up and down in the time-worn wainscoting give me a friendly greeting that I never meet in your new-fashioned houses, built for a race of mammon-worshipers who have made their wealth out of shoddy and petroleum. “ People mourn over the various ills that flesh is heir to, over the loss of money, lauds, and health, and other insignificant things, but I mourn over the decline in the race of our ghosts:—that is a real loss ; but what can you expect ? They are sneered at by foolish skeptics, and insulted by dictionary-concoctors like Walker ; what decent specter would feel any respect for himself when people '■all him specter ? It is enough to make him contemptible in his own eyes, and cause him to let himself out to be exhibited at an entertainment combining instruction, amusement, and horrors, for the small sum of one shilling per head. What honest, gentlemanly ghost, who lives in a quiet, respectable country house, would have any connection with the disreputable roving spirits that can be called up by any charlatan or impostor to play on a cracked accordion, to make stupid jokes, to untie knots, andt® rap out ghastly revelations from a dirty deal table ? An old-fashioned, aristocratic phantom would despise the tricks of such nomadic nonentities, as he wanders through the the dreary corridors of the haunted house, or remains in his garret or cellar, thinking over the good old times when he appeared with clanking chains to frighten weary wayfarers, and make the awe-striken folks shudder as they sat in the old chimney corner. “Think of the thrilling interest he excited when he revealed to the true heir the place where the money was concealed, that he had robbed him of before he left this life for the land of shades. Such a ghost was well worth knowing ; and so was the good old scholarly phantom, who required you to speak to him in Latin, who appeared only at the canonical hour of 12, and who could not be got rid of with your furniture, but remained one of the fixtures of the ancient mansion. “ To have such a ghost in your family is the only criterion of age and respectability; once a man was known to be a gentleman by the house he inhabited, by his carriage, and his coat-of-arms. Now Mr. Solomon Stubbs, the retired cheese monger, buys the house of the ruined Marquis de Sang-Azur, and purchases a crest at the Heralds’ College; he may purchase almost anything, may keep a dozen carriages, but he cannot buy a ghost; it is only the ancient families that can keep that proof of respectability.” I really believe that Uncle Ben valued the shade that was said to haunt his house far higher than all his more tangible property. Nothing made him more angry than for any one to doubt its existence; he was always ready to break a lance with any skeptic on the subject, and to offer him a bed in the haunted room; and, although many of the young members of the family scoffed at the story, very few had the courage to accept the challenge. One winter night, when the wind was moaning round the chimney-pots and through the eaves, singing a dirge among the leafless branches of the gaunt old spectral trees for the joys of the dead summer, the family was gathered round the fire in the drawing-room. JRUncle Ben, who was standing with his back to the fire, said to his nephew: I think, Joe, we had better put on another log of wood; I don’t feel inclined for bed yet, and I suppose you youngsters intend to sit up half the night, as usual.” “I don’t mean to turn in yet for one uncle,” replied Joe. “Tell us one of your ghost stories; a regular bloodourdler.” “Ah, Joe,” said the old man, “lam afraid you are a thorough skeptic. Yen disbelieve in all supernatural appearances.”

“Certainly,” answered Joe, who was Secretary to the Literary Debating Society in the little town of Mudborough, and who had written an essay to prove ♦he non-existence of everything, and that we are simply the creations of our own thoughts. ‘ ‘ Certainly these impalpable specters are only illusions which the disordered condition of our weak physical organs bring before us.” “ I own you ..re a clever lad, Joe, but 1 don t care a button for your arguments I believe in ghosts because I have seen them.” “ Oh, I am open to conviction; if you introduce me to a bona-fide ghost Til give in. I believe only in the things I understand.” “Joe, you have as little faith as a Jew; and, if you only believe in what you understand, your creed will be shorter than that of any man I know.” “Can you give us any proof? Can you mention one instance im.which the specter has appeared to anw .one you know?” / ‘ I * / “A hundred, if you wish it/’ said the old man. “One will do; give us one gegniw esse and we will believe.” " K - ”■

“I will; listen. The story that lam about to relate is an incident that happened to myself some twenty years ago, and for the truth of which I can vouch.” “Well, proceed.” “ I would give you the history of the specter attached to thj® f Mouse, but that only appears*®** f*vp»ed few, and I have not yet seen it, although I have often enough heard thd*noises it makes. ” “We should prefer a ghost that can be seen, if you nave ever met with one. ” “Ten must .understand that the village in which I lived, like many others, possesses its spectral visitor. About 100 years ago, an ancestor of mine started for London in his traveling carriage, one evening about the latter end oi June. He was an exceedingly irascible man, and, as the coachman wap not sufficiently quick in preparing the vehicle, he became much enraged, and used exceedingly passionate language. For some time the coachman bore his abuse patiently, but, at last, he lost his temper, and struck the old in the face. ■ ' “In those days everybody wore a sword; and my ancestor, who was always ready to draw, snatched his weapon from his sheath, and, with one blow, severed the unfortunate man’s head from his body. “ Conscience-stricken at this fearful crime, and terrified by the dread of its consequences, he gazed upon the headless body for a few moments, and then, being seized with a fit of apoplexy, was carried into the house by his servants. where he died in a few hours.”

“Well,” said Joe, “although the story is horrible enough, it has nothing of the supernatural in it. It is quite possible that an angry old man may commit a murder and die of fright.” “ Yes, you are right; if the tale ended there, there would be nothing to doubt; but what lam going to tell join I am afraid, will be scoffed at by my skeptical young friends, who disbelieve everything they do not see or hear.” “ That’s meant for me,” said Joe, with a laugh. “Never mind, uncle; gp on with your story.” “Yes, my boy, now I come to the marvelous part. Every year, as the hands of the clock point to the hour of midnight, a traveling carriage, with four horses, driven by a headless coachman, leaves that village, and passes down the London rqad.” “He must be clever if he ran see to drive without his head,” interrupted the still skeptical Joe. “That I cannot explain; some ghostseers say that it is possible for people in clairvoyant state to read from the pit of the stomach ; at all events, a dead man may be possessed of faculties that we do not understand ; for a man becomes considerably altered when he is dead.” “ He does, I admit.” “And if you allow that a dead man can drive at all, the small matter of a head more or less is of very little importance.” ' ■

“Just so.” “ You know that when a man dies he becomes a spirit.” “That’srum,” said Joe. “ No, sir, it’s not rum, nor whisky either; and, if you cannqt listen to my story without’ endeavoring to turn it into ridicule, I had better leave off,” replied Uncle Ben, who was as peppery as his ancestor. “Oh ! pray go on, uncle,” exclaimed all the listeners. “We’ll try to keep Joe in order.” “Well, as I was saying, this apparition made its appearance once a year, as the clock was striking 12. Many of the villagers had heard the tramp of horses and the rattling of wheels as the ghostly cortege went by. Now and then some favored individual witnessed the headless driver, as he whipped his horses on toward London. But, in all cases, the coach passed too quickly for any one to -see whether the old gentleman was really inside or not.”

“ And did no one ever see him ?” asked one of the party. “ You shall hear. I will confess that, until the night when the incident which I am about to relate took place, I was as great an unbeliever as any es yop, and always treated the whole account as an old woman’s tale, only fit to frighten children. But, one evening, as I sat smoking with some old friends, one of them, a devout believer in everything supernatural, began to talk about the family legend. I, as usual, threw ridicule upon the affair. Perhaps the good wine had inspired me with more than ordinary courage, perhaps not; at all events, I horrified some of the company by stating my intention of venturing out to wander down the road, and see if I could meet the phantom cavalcade. I swore that if I did, I would ask the old gentleman to give me a lift, and offered to bet £IOO that the whole legend was a pack of lies.” “ And did you go ?” “ Yes ; although some of the more superstitious of the party tried to prevent me, I persevered, and wandered out into the night ready to meet with ghost or goblin. ” “ And did you meet them?” “ Just as I emerged from the lane the village clock ehimed the three-quarters, and I sat down upon a moss-covered’ milestone to wait and watch for the phantoms that ‘come like shadows—so depart.’ The night was chilly, and, as I wrapped my cloak around me, I began to shudder, as I wondered if, by any possibility, there could have been any truth in the strange story that I had heard. I had brofight with me a pock-et-flask, so I treated myself to a nip to warm me, as I gradually felt like the man in the play, that all my courage was oozing out at my fingers’ ends.” “Oh, uncle, afraid !” cried one of the boys.

“Yes, my boy, I must confess it, for the moment I began to wish I was back in the comfortable old dining-room; but as the brandy warmed me up I laughed at my fears, and determined to stay it out, careless of man or devil. “Suddenly the clock Struck the hour M midnight. * ‘ As the last echoes died away, I heard in the distance a sound like the noise, qf a carriage and horses rapidly approaching. My blood began to curdle in my veins; it came nearer and nearer; and, at last, I saw a cArlous, old-fashioned vehicle coming toward me at a furious pace. “ For a moment I was speechless, but, mustering all my courage, I cried out to the coachman tofctfcp. He did so, and then, to my intense surprise, I, saw that his head had bden severed from the trunk. The ghastly head lay by his side on the coach-box, which perhaps accounted for his being able to hear my cries.

“As the carriage stopped he sprang to the ground, flung open the door, let down the steps and signed for me to enter. By this time my nerves were well braced up, and I jumped in without any fear. “ Upon entering the coach and inking my seat I found myself opposite an old gentleman who was dressed in the costume of the commencement of the reign of George 111. Upon his head was an old-fashioned tie-wig, and in his hand was a naked sword which .was still covered with blood. Ilia face was of an unearthly pallor, and had upon it a soured, scared look, which did not make* him a very pleasant-looking traveling companion. “For some time we sat face to face, and when I found that he did not appear to take the slightest notice of me, I began to be more at my ease. At last I thought it would be Very uncivil to ride iri the Cid gentleman’s coach without speaking to him, and I algo felt inclined, as I had never before met with a real ghost, to make his acqq&intftnce. So I, by way of opening the conversation, said;

“ ‘A splendid night, sir.’ i “ The elderly party in the tie-wig made no reply. ..... i “ ‘ln a hurry to get to town, I presume ? lam very much obliged to you forthe lift.’ -I /. .ytfak. *■ ‘ Stall bo answer. After this we both, sat for some time in silence; the ghost seemed buried in thought, £nd mained watching him with great interest., At last, the night being chilly for the time of year, and the coach having about it a peculiar atmosphere like that of a vault, I began to feel extremely cold, and I drew out once more my flask of brandy. “ The eyes of the old fellow lit up and twinkled with excitement, as he sfiw me drink. I offered him’the bottle; he ‘accepted it With a low bow, and followed my example. “ ‘ Thank you,’ said he; ‘ I have not tasted such good family brandy for many a day.’ He then drew out his snuff-box and offered me a pinch. Not daring to offend him, I took one, but I carefully let it drop on the floor of the carriage when his eyes were turned away. “After a second nip the old gentleman grew quite sociable; and-began to talk; he complimented me upon my bravery in daring to stop his carriage. For just one century he had, once a year, driven along this road without meeting any one who had the courage to ride with him; and, through me, he would be released from all further punishment, which was to last until some brave fellow accompanied him in his drive and conversed with him.

“For this release he heartily thanked me, and said that, for my courage, I should be lucky to my business speculations; and, as you are.ftWflfe, lie turned out a true prophet” “ Did you talk about anything else ?” asked Joe. “Oh, yes. My old friend had as much curiosity as a woman/’ said Uncle Ben, who, I need not say, was an inveterate bachelor. “We had a conversation about London. \lt appears that he had been a great beau in his time, and he considered himself an enormous favorite with the ladies. He wished to know who was the' reigning toast, and was much disgusted when I told him that toasts had gone out of fashion.” “ Was that all ?” : “ Oh, no. He told me where the best civet and pomatum was to be bought, and who was the best peruke-maker; and was still more surprised when I said that no one wore wigs dow, except lawyers and coachmen. He asked if traveling was as dangerous as eves; thpughhe. confessed that he had not been much troubled lately by the knights of the road. He said that one rode up to stop him twenty-five years before, but the sight of his headless driver had so frightened him'thatho put spurs to h is horse and disappeared* as if he had had twenty Bow-street runners at his hee|s.” “Did you not ask what became of him on the other nights- es the year, when he was not out for his drivfe. .

“ He said that, in company with the innumerable shades who were condemned to occasionally visit the earth for crimes committed during their past lives, he passed his time hovering round his old haunts, longing to become visible to his descendants, and to assist them in times of trouble, but unable to do so. As we conversed, the time rapidly slipped away; and at length the lamps of London became visible in the distance. After thanking the old man for his courtesy, I suggested that I might now alight, as I had a great many friends in town that I should like to visit; but he shook his head. “ ‘ No, no,’ said he; ‘we are at the mercy of my coachman; he has the entire command during our drive, and he will only stop at the place we picked you up. See, ho is turning the horses round; we are about to return.’ “If the journey to town seemed short, the journey back was still shorter. The old man told me a hundred anecdotes of the people of his time. He had been a staunch Jacobite, and he told me all about the young Cavalier, and painted the “ March to Finchley” in words that did full justice to Hogarth’s picture. The statesmen, wits, and soldiers of the last century appeared to stand before me in the flesh, and I never enjoyed a drive better than the one I had with my ghostly ancestor. “As the clock struck one, we pulled up at the old moss-covered milestone where I first stopped the coach. Once more thanking me for the inestimable favor I had done him, the old gentleman signed to the driver to open the carriage door. I got out, and, as I turned round to bid him good-by, I found that the whole cavalcade—coach, horses, driver, and old gentleman—had vanished into thin air, and I was alone. ” “Alone?” exclaimed his hearers. “Yes,” said Uncle Benj “but the strange thing was that I became insensible, and knew nothing more until I was found the next morning lying beside the milestone with the empty brandy-flask in my hands ” . ■ “ I thought so. You emptied the bottle, fell asleep, and dreamed that you saw the phantom cortege,” said Joe. “No, sir, it was no dream. j When I saw that carriage, and when I rode in it, J was as much awake as I am now; ana when you are as old as I am, and have seen as many wonders, you will be surprised #t nothing, and will own that there are more things in Heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy. ” — Belgravia.