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A TRUE GHOST STORY;
OR
THREE NIGHTS IN A HAUNTED HOUSE.
By Scaife, Hazel Lewis, 1872-1939
Introduction
"Hark ! on the wainscot now it knocks!
"If thou art a ghost/' cried Orthodox
With that affected solemn air
Which hypocrites delight to wear,
And all those forms of consequence
Which fools adopt instead of sense ;
It* thou'rt a ghost, who from the tomb
St&lk'st sadly silent through this gloom
In breach of Nature's stated laws,
For good or bad, or for no cause,
Give now nine knocks ; like priests of old,
Nine, we a sacred number hold."
— Churchill.
" What may this mean,
That thou dead corse, again, in complete steel.
Re-visits thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making nights hideous ; and we fools of nature,
So horridly to shake our disposition,
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Say, why is this ?"
— Hamlet.
I.
About two years ago, a respectable Daily
published an account of some strange and uncanny happenings in the so-called " Haunted
House," of Elbert county, Georgia. Peculiar
noises were heard, and strange things occurred,
which could not be accounted for. Men of un-
doubted veracity vouched for the authenticity
of the statements, which were given in the
article as facts, and the story was copied in
many prominent papers.
A relative of mine, a merchant of Elberton,
when at my home on a visit last summer, told
me of his own experience at this " Haunted
House." He claimed to have heard the noises
himself, and insisted that he was unable to
offer any explanation of them.
Recently I had occasion to visit the town of
Elberton, and while there I determined to in-
vestigate the. " Haunted House" and attempt
to assign natural causes to the phenomena.
Before repairing to the house which is situated
eighteen miles southeast of the town of Elber-
ton, I was told of many experiences which it
had afforded the terrified people who had vis-
ited it. No intelligent person could believe
these stories, although they were told in a serious manner, and in most cases upon oath. When
it was suggested that a fraud was being perpe-
trated, men who claimed Christian characters,
hooted at the idea, and were willing to make
affidavits that it could not be a fraud.
II.
A party of twenty men, including myself,
started early one morning for the " Haunted
House," where we intended to camp and fish
for several days. The central figure of this
party was an elderly man, who was born and
raised in the neighborhood. I was told that he
was a prosperous merchant and farmer, a mem-
ber of the Methodist Church, and a man whose
veracity could not be doubted. This gentleman
has written articles on the " Haunted House "
for various papers. On the way he remarked
that he would not sleep in the house for all the
money in Elbert county. He said this in all
seriousness when we were going, and when we
were returning three days later, he made the
more emphatic statement : " There is not money
enough in the world to pay me to stay in that house
after dark; if you'd fasten me in it, I would die or
go crazy:' Others in the party, after they had
seen and heard for themselves, made practically
the same statement.
After a half-day's ride, through a rough
country, we reached the " Rotten Level Road."
This soon led us to the spot where we had de-
cided to camp — on the banks of Broad River,
and five miles from its mouth, where it empties
into the Savannah. The locality is reputed to
be one of the wildest in Georgia. One mile up
the river, catamounts, wild-cats, and wild tur-
keys are said to be present in abundance. Down
the river one mile is the "Haunted House."
Both up and down the river bank, all nature is
painfully still, with the exception of the con-
stant whistling of the quail.
In a few minutes the wagons were unloaded,
tents were pitched, and a fire made. Lunch
was in order, and the men crowded around
" Old Bart," the negro cook, to be served with
the necessities of nature — some of them taking
it from the cup. Refreshments over, and the
men scattered ; some went in the river with
their seines, some went hunting, and I alone
was anxious to stroll around the "Haunted
House." To my disappointment the party had
positively declared that they would not camp
any closer to it. I started off alone, but was
soon joined by two others from the camp.
Through briar patches, cane-brakes and
wooded land, we made, and sometimes beat
our way. After a rough ramble for about one
mile, we came to an old neglected road, running
directly south, and which lay at the western
foot of a hill. This hill or mountain is cov-
ered with heavy forests, and from its summit it
takes a gradual slope towards the south until it
reaches the river. A quarter of a mile down
this deserted lane, and we came to the gate of a
dilapidated paling fence, eight feet high, which
climbed over the hill-side to our left, until it
was lost to sight in the under-growth. Peeping
through the fence and taking an enfilading
glance to the left, we saw the " Haunted House "
over which the hill cast its gloomy shadow.
The fence enclosed this house, about twenty-
five empty cabins, and the ruins of an old factory. The fence formed half of an ellipse, with
the river for its major axis.
The rusty hinges of the old gate shrieked as
we entered the mysterious valley which scarcely
echoes but to the voices of nature.
The reader will remember that we entered
the gate in the northwest corner of the fence.
Here we found a path leading to the front of
the house, which sits at the extreme northern
end of the minor axis of the ellipse already
referred to. Follow the path and climb the
hill near the fence until you find yourself on
the same level as the up-stairs front door of the
house, which faces towards the summit of the
hill. Parallel with the front of the building,
and against it, a rock terrace cut in the side of
the hill extends to the right and to the left.
On the right of the house two large wine cel-
lars have their opening in this wall. Walk to
the corner of the house, look over the terrace,
and you see fifteen feet below you the level
upon which the house is built and you also see
what was once a flower yard. Weeds have crept
in and grown up, and a huge neglected rose-
bush clings to the rock terrace over which you
stand. Behind you the hill rises to a goodly
height.
The house was open and we entered the
front door ; we searched all its secret recesses,
but could find nothing by which the noises I
had heard of could be accounted for. We pass-
ed through the house down the stairway and out
on the ground below. So far we still had not
seen or heard anything to impress us with the
thought that the house was haunted, except a
dismal loneliness which seemed to hover over
the place, a fit abode for an unhappy spirit !
The only relic which we found in the empty
rooms that suggested better days was an old
iron safe with its door flung open.
We were now standing on the second terrace
(that on which the house was built). About
one hundred feet from the south side of the
house, and at the edge of the weed-choked
flower yard, was another rock wall, parallel
with and like the one already described. A
road from the gate we entered ran along at the
foot of this wall and extended to the fence on
the left. Beside the road was a row of about
thirteen deserted factory cabins equi-distant
apart. Fifty yards down this row, and at right
angles to it, is another row of cabins reaching
to the river. In the second angle formed by
these two rows, and on the bank of the river,
are the ruins of the old factory.
The place was sold at auction before the war,
and bought by " Tommy McCarthy," an Irish-
man, who again put the factory into operation.
The factory was supplied with cotton from his
adjoining land by his negroes, who likewise
operated the factory. Soon Mr. McCarthy be-
came wealthy. After the war the negroes were
supplanted by white hands. Twelve years ago
the factory was burned, and it is said that Mr.
McCarthy had trouble with the insurance com-
panies. Two years later he died.
Soon after the death of Mr. McCarthy,
stories gained circulation, saying that unac-
countable noises were heard in this house, which
had never been heard before his death.
Several families rented the house, but moved
away. They claimed that at night, after they
had all gone to bed, they could see a dim light
moving and hear crackling noises. When the
light faded away, something with a rustling
sound would run about the rooms in which they
slept. They lit lamps and searched thoroughly,
but in vain. No sooner would the light go out
than they could hear the noises again. A dog
was allowed to sleep in the house, but he would
take no notice of the mysterious occurrences.
Now the house is unoccupied ; not a human
being is on the place, which to-day is a deserted
village, where a magnificent estate is going to
ruins. I was told that its present owners would
give the place indefinitely to any person who
would occupy it. The man, who keeps his cat-
tle in the grounds to pasture, claimed that
after all that has taken place there, he would
not dare to go for his cows after dark.
We next went to the river. As it dashes
down the shoals, it brings with it water-power
unsurpassed in Georgia. Viewed from the top
of a high rock, the beautiful river, dotted with
islands, rivals the great St. Lawrence on a
smaller scale.
Back to camp again, and supper is ready.
The seining party had brought in some excellent
fish ; the hunters likewise had been successful.
After supper, as we sat around the fire smok-
ing, I suggested that a party of us should go
down to the " Haunted House." Old Bart, the
cook, a black, fat, blue-gummed negro, inter-
rupted : " Yer better not be like de ole nigger."
" How's that, Bart? " I asked.
" Wall, de ole nigger and de boys war er runnin
from de patrollers* Be boys war a gittin erhead,
an when de ole man gib out he holler, 4 Run reglar,
boys, run reglar ; catch one, catch all. 9 '
His point was so suggestive, that we from
that moment recognized Bart as " wag of the
camp."
Before we started my suspicions were aroused
when several of the party objected to my carry-
ing a gun. They claimed that two horses had
already been killed in the pasture, and that I
would be sure to take one for " Old Tommy
McCarthy," as they called our ghost. I allayed
their fears by assuring them that I would not
shoot anything, unless I was sure it was the
" ghost," and that if I should kill a horse
through mistake, I would pay for the damage.
After each member of the party had taken
an oath that he would not use, or permit to be
used, any fraud, and that each would consci-
entiously do all in his power to ferret out the
mystery, we started for the "Haunted House."
Through desolate woods and along un-
frequented paths, we trod in Indian fashion,
single file. The night was dark and the lantern
was in front. As a result somebody in the rear
was often lost to sight in a briar-patch, and
occasionally a comrade just in front would
suddenly drop into a gully several feet deep,
and crawl out covered with mud.
Our procession comes to a sudden stop !
"What's the matter V everyone wanted to
know at once !
The trouble was with " Old Bart "—he had
heard a screech-owl, that lugubrious night-bird,
which figures so largely in negro superstition.
" Old Bart " seemed afraid to continue, and it
was out of the question for him to go back one
hundred yards to the camp by himself. Finally
we placed him in the middle of the line and
made another start.
All was quiet ; nobody had anything to say ;
probably all were husbanding their vocal en-
ergy for the return trip, when doubtless we
would have something to talk about. The only
sound was the tramping of feet. Emerging
from the woods, we crossed a deserted field.
Scarcely had we covered its breadth, when Bart
broke the silence again : " When yer come baek
cross dis yer jiel, Ole Bart gwine ter be loapin wid
de gang."
We had nearly reached our destination, when
some one insisted upon putting out the light,
for it was said that the ghost was never heard
when light was near. I objected, but better
judgment prevailed, and I saw the last flicker-
ing of the light disappear.
We were now in the land of spirits, and it
was nearly that " witching time of night when
churchyards yawn." We silently filed through
the gate and followed the road which led by
the "Haunted House." I was told that after
Mr. McCarthy's death, the house was occupied
by a Mr. "Budd," who died with pneumonia
shortly after moving there. His physician lived
some miles away. One evening the physician
left his patient better and did not return until
the following night. In the meantime, Mr.
Budd grew suddenly worse and died. The next
day the dead man was buried and the house
was closed. The physician, not knowing this,
came that night, as usual, to see his patient.
As he neared the house, he saw people entering
the front door. He hitched his horse, and when
he reached the front door, he found it locked.
He then tried the back door — it too was fas-
tened. Again he saw the people going in at the
front door. He re-examined it, but found it
fastened as before. Returning to his horse, he
left the place as fast as his animal would carry
him.
We followed the road, passed the " Haunted
House," and walked down the row of deserted
cabins until we stood by an old store. We
waited here for spiritual manifestations to be-
gin in the "Big House On The Hill." While
we were waiting, I was told how the clerk, who
slept in the store by which we were standing,
had been forced to give up his position, and
how impossible it was to find another who
would take his place. At night, as soon as he
extinguished his light, he could hear some one
knocking at the door, but when he would look,
he could find no one, and hear nothing.
One night the moon was shining, while he
and a friend were sitting upon the counter
talking. Three loud knocks were heard at the
door, and both men ran out to look. Nobody
could possibly have knocked and gotten away.
There was a cellar under the store ; it was well
searched, but no one could be found. This was
repeated several times.
The next night, while the clerk was asleep,
he was awakened by a plank falling from the
ceiling; then something jumped on his bed,
with a thud. The man became so frightened
that he covered up his head, and as soon as
morning came, he left the place. The store has
never been occupied since.
Another house was pointed out to me just be-
low the store. All its windows were open, and
each seemed to pour out darkness into the al-
ready dark night. I was told by the old gentle-
man, the leader of our little expedition, how a
fishing party, which was camping near it, had
heard noises like chains being dragged around in-
side the house. He continued : " Each man ran
to see what it was, and finding the door locked,
we tore off planks and went inside." I was
conducted and showed where the planks on the
side of the house were actually gone. The old
man took an oath that, as he was a gentleman,
this story was true, for he was there himself,
I asked him if it could not have been rats?
" No, sir, look at the stars through the roof; there
was not a4hing in the house /" was his reply.
We turned to go back to the " Big House,"
where even the worst of all is said to have oc-
curred. As we faced about, the line of cabins
in the darkness appeared like huge phantoms
couched and ready to spring upon the unwary
creature, who might dare to come there alone.
In their windows the mind's eye could see any
spectre imaginable, standing there in the dark-
ness, in bold relief.
Almost tipping around the last cabin, we
ascended the mound where the terrace of the
" Big House " ended, and in a few minutes we
stood huddled together in front of the dreaded
object.
All was still ; not even a breath of air was
stirring ; only the river as it slipped through
the shoals could be heard. The moon had gone
and the stars vanished one by one in the fog,
as it rose from the river. We waited for fifteen
minutes without speaking above a whisper.
V.
Bap I rap 11 rap III sounded within the
house, and something like a stone rolled across
the up-stairs piazza and dropped with a thud to
the ground. I looked for it the next morning,
but could find nothing which would have rolled
across the piazza and made the noise.
Immediately after the rapping, a low mournful sound, like that of a spinning-wheel or the
wind blowing in a chimney corner, rose slowly
three times in three different positions of the
house, and then died away in the opposite gable
from the one in which it was first heard. It is
said that Mr. Budd, who died in the house,
made the same sound when he breathed his
last.
All became still again, deathly still ! We
waited a long time but could hear nothing.
Then we moved up closer to the house and
after a while sat down on the piazza. The
doors of the house were open and I sat in the
darkness with my back to the hall stairway
gazing towards the graveyard on the hill, where
it said one can hear earth dropping on a coffin
at midnight.
VI.
Bang! bang!! bang!!! Something com-
ing down three steps of the stairway brought
me to my feet. I whirled around and leveled
my gun to fire. Some one near me cried, " DonH
shoot." I did not know where to shoot, for I
could see nothing. For fifteen minutes we
heard nothing more.
"Angels and ministers of grace defend us !
Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd,
Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
Be thy intent wicked or charitable,
Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,
That I will speak to thee."
— Hamiet.
Then I cried into the house, "If you are a
spirit, rap three times."
Rap! rap! ! rap!!! came slowly, as though
some one was knocking with a knuckle in the
room overhead.
I next said: •' If you want to communicate,
rap five times." Five raps answered, each rap
coming from a different part of the house and
almost at the same time. I continued to ask
questions, which were answered by raps as
above. With each question I demanded a dif-
ferent number of raps for an affirmative reply.
Continued silence after a question was inter-
preted as a negative answer.
Q. " Are you unhappy, and do you want
your soul purged of some burden? " A. " Yes."
Q. " It is said that you have money buried
here, is this true? " A. " Yes."
Q. "Is it within one hundred yards from
where I am standing?" A. "Yes."
Q. " Is it in the house? " A. " Yes."
Q. "Is it down-stairs?" A. "No."
Q. "Isitup-stairs?" A. "No."
Q. " Is it in the garret? " A. " No."
Q. " Is it under the house?" A. " Yes."
Q. " Is it under the north-east corner of
the house?" A. "No."
Q. "Is it under the south-east corner?"
A. " No."
Q. " Is it under the south-west corner? " A.
"Yes."
Q. "Do you wish any one in this party to
have the money? " A. " Yes."
Q. "Is it I?" A. "No."
A bald-lieaded man in our party would
have been at an advantage, when "each partic-
ular hair stood on end," endeavoring to lift a
scalp, but for the cold perspiration on his
brow and the shivers chasing each other down
his back.
After being informed that I was not to re-
ceive the money, I called over the names of
various ones in the party, until I finally re-
ceived an affirmative reply.
" Why do you want this man to have the
money; have you ever wronged any of his people?"
A. "Yes."
The next day news came to the camp that
this man's grandfather was to be buried that
evening. One man said he knew it to be an
actual fact, that Mr. McCarthy had bought
cotton from the old man during the war, and
that he had never gotten his money.
Q. " Will as much as one thousand dollars
be found?" A. "Yes."
Q. " Rap once for each one thousand." A.
One, two, three, four, Jive, six, seven, — "Seven
Thousand Dollars!"
Q. " Did you burn your factory, as people
say you did?" A. " No."
Q. " Do you wish to communicate any
more? "
No further response ; I had located the last
rap in a front room on the first floor. This
room had two doors ; having sent several of the
party around the house to guard one, I entered
the other, which was in a few feet of me. I
made a light and searched the room thoroughly,
as well as other parts of the house, but I found
no one concealed and nothing by which the
noise could have been made.
After this experience we returned to camp ;
on the way I thought of Washington Irving's
" Sleepy Hollow." I could see his " Hessian
Trooper ; " then I could see poor " Ichabod
Crane " dashing down the road. I could see
his attitude as he reached the bridge his short
stirrups throwing his knees under his chin as
he leans over to see the " Headless Horseman,"
who has him hemmed in. I could hear " Old
Gunpowder " snort and refuse to budge. Then
I thought of Ichabod's mysterious disappear-
ance and I wondered if he was really carried
off by the Hessian Trooper. Had I suggested
to my companions his supposed fate, no doubt
that, after our experience, some of them would
have said, " I will believe it now."
As I lay in camp, restless and tired, I
turned my eyes and looked down the river. I
saw a star nearly over the " Haunted House."
An idea occurred to me and I woke every-
body up by exclaiming, " Look at that star, or
whatever it is; isn't it moving?" All eyes were
turned and half the party were positive that
the star was slowly moving around in a small
circle over the " Haunted House." Some of
the men claimed that the phenomenon was
caused by looking at the star through the trees
when the wind was blowing. This idea was
exploded, when some one claimed that it was a
cloud drifting over it ; but this was impossible
for we could see no cloud. " Strange, strange,
strange," thought I, for the star was really not
moving at all, and then I fell asleep.
VII.
I was awakened at five o'clock the next
morning by rattling of chains : some of the
men rushed out of the tent, startled and ap-
parently frightened.. Some one had taken the
wagon chains and prepared the plot during the
night. As soon as we discovered that this was
only a practical joke, we turned the laugh on
one of the party, who had started off through
the under-growth on " all-fours," not tarrying
long enough to stand erect before taking a
start. Before breakfast, I walked alone down
by the " Haunted House " for a hunt. On the
way I saw an old negro plowing in a field some
distance off. I directed my steps toward him,
to be advised as to where I could find some
squirrels. Before I left him, I asked his opin-
ion of the " Haunted House." With an honest
expression, but in a nervous voice, he replied,
" Wall, sar, Fse been thar many times, but Tse
neber seed dem dar hants yit. Sar, I don't believe
it!"
The day was spent mostly in fishing. We
crossed the river to seine the opposite bank.
While returning, the boat behind me was cap-
sized, but fortunately no further damage was
done than dumping its load into the river.
Often throughout the day the conversation
drifted back to the " Seven Thousand Dollars,"
which many claimed they honestly believed
would be found. Twenty-five dollars was offered the man, who had been singled out by the
" spirit," for his chance of obtaining the hidden
money, before even a search had been made.
The offer was quickly refused. The night be-
fore, the "spirit" had told the man to come
for his money, but the man pretended that he
was afraid to hunt for it by himself. Others
said they did not care to go with him, for the
spirit meant for him to go alone.
VIII.
The second night we set out for the "Haunted
House " again. The noises, as on the previous
night, were heard, accompanied by more terri-
ble ones. This time we did not have to wait so
long before we heard them. They were pre-
luded by something hitting the side of the
house with great force, directly in front of me.
Then all the windows in the house began to
shake.
I renewed my experiments in spiritualism —
numbers of questions were asked and answered.
Strange to say no reply would be given except
to my questions, which were always answered by
raps as before. My interrogations began with a
question concerning the " money." I was in-
informed that the man for whom it was in-
tended would not get it because he had put off
searching for it. It repeated that there was
Seven Thousand Dollars (in gold) awaiting
a finder. Our incognito companion rapped
quickly to my question, inquiring if it would
be unhapy until the money was found.
Finally I asked a question, which I thought
would certainly not be answered.
Q. " How many Uncles have I ? " A.
"Two."
Q. "Are they both on my mother's side? "
No response.
Q. "Are they both on my father's side?"
No response.
Q. " How many brothers has my mother? "
A. " One."
Q. " How many brothers has my father? "
A. "One."
These answers were correct. I was standing
within an arm's length of a tree which was
struck with considerable force by something
which I could not see. Several men were a
short distance behind me. I drew my revolver
and remarked that the next stone from that
direction would be answered by a bullet. Each
one of the men in the group swore that he did
not throw it.
Q. "Do you want us to come nearer to
the house?" A. "No."
Q. "If you do not want us to come any
nearer, rap twice." Two raps was the reply.
Several of the men did not heed the protest
of our invisible conversationalist and stepped
briskly toward the piazza. No sooner had they
placed a foot on the steps, before the whole
piazza shook as though it would fall and crush
them. They hastily beat a retreat to where we
were standing.
As we returned to camp most of our com-
panions declared that " money could not induce
them to go back to the house." As we walked
along one of the men became deathly ill, ap-
parently from fright.
The third night finally came. A majority
of the party bad deserted and returned home.
During the day one of the weather prophets
had given his opinion that it would rain by
night, so we had moved down the river to the
" Haunted House " to camp in a cabin. We
made our headquarters in the one farthest from
the " Haunted House."
IX.
After supper, we were all on the veranda of
the little cottage, when I cried, " Look, look,
what is that white object moving by the fence V
All eyes were focussed from the point of my
ringer. Some one raised a lantern, and it was
several minutes before all were convinced that
they could see something with shining eyes
creeping towards the "Haunted House."
Like the moving star, already referred to,
this object was a creature of the imagination.
I had simply pointed to a white spot on the
fence ; the eyes of my companions, peering
through the darkness, had followed it to the
" Haunted House," some of them claiming that
it was a fox. Allowing myself to go too far up
the row of cabins, I heard a noise like stones
falling in the house behind me. I felt assured
that I saw one of the party throw the stones,
but when accused he swore that he did not.
After a while, about ten o'clock, we all went
up the hill to the " Haunted House " — a most
terrible noise had already begun there. Surely
it must have something important to commu-
nicate, judging from its apparently unhappy
mood.
Not caring to have anything else to do with
" it," I remarked that there might be another
medium in the party, and that I would find
out.
Q. " If there is any one in this party yon
wish to communicate with, rap twice." It re-
plied immediately in the affirmative.
I called over the names of all present, but
after each name came only a prolonged silence.
" That is strange" said I, " it wants to communi-
cate with somebody here, but yet I have called the
names of all of you" Then it occurred to me
that I had not called rny own name.
Q. " Do you wish to communicate with
me?" A. "Yes."
It then repeated by raps for the third time
that Seven Thousand Dollars was buried on the
place.
A man told me that his brother dreamed
that " old Tommy McCarthy " came to him and
told him where seven thousand dollars was hid ;
that he must come for it on a dark night at mid-
night and look for it in a certain place. The man
continued, " this was dreamed eight years ago, and
three nights in succession" Being an ignorant
man, he was prevented from searching by the
old superstition, " if a man seeks buried money at
midnight and does not find it, his feet will become
riveted to the ground where he stands"
The next question revealed the fact that I
was to have the money, but that I must go
away and return for it.
Q. "Must I return this summer?" A.
" Yes."
Q. " Rap the month." A. One, two, three,
four, five, six, — " June ! "
Q. "Rap the day of the month." A. One,
two, three — " must return the third of June."
It was now the first day of that month. Then
came the most unearthly noises, scrapings'
and moving of something, and rattling, like
bushels of money being fmovedjfrom one part
of the house and dropped in another. I fired a
shot over the house ; the noises immediately
ceased, but as soon as I left, they grew even
louder than before ; after I had reached our
cottage I could hear them distinctly.
X.
We were all lying on our pallets of straw,
the light still burning, when some one discov-
ered that the " Third of June " would be Sun-
day. I stated positively that I would not look
for the treasure on Sunday. Possibly there
was some mistake, and I thought that I could
make further inquiries without going back to
the " Haunted House." Some objection was
made to my bringing the spirit where we had
to sleep.
" Knock three times if you will communicate^
I said. It did as I commanded, once on the
floor under me, once in the next room, and once
overhead. I was told that " Monday " would do
as well.
Some one suggested prayer, after which I
went to sleep.
On our way home, " old Bart " said to me,
4 " Sur. if it had not been for you y we'd er all been
distroyed " He was not aware of the fact that
it was discovered that he was one of the ghosts.
I visited the " Haunted House " with the
determination of satisf}ang myself that the
"ghost" was of flesh and blood or that the
noises had some accountable origin.
As a result I found that this ghost story,
like most others, has a real, living man at the
bottom of it. The whole affair from beginning
to end was a miserable fraud. The old man,
who accompanied the party, and had written
so much for the papers, concerning the " Haun-
ted House," was ring-leader of the " ghosts."
I have a written statement signed by him,
under oath, that there was no fraud attached
to the stories which he has written, but when
he was exposed, he made a confession which
was doubtless more truthful.
XI.
Like most deserted houses in which some
one has died, " old Tommy McCarthy's " house,
by virtue of its desolation, became " haunted. "
Eight years ago this old man, with a fishing
party, was at the "McCarthy House." Rum-
maging about the house, various articles were
found hidden in its crevices. In an old stove-
pipe three hundred dollars (in Confederate
notes) were found. Examining the bills, the
finder rolled them up and nidthem away again,
saying that he would not dare remove the
money hid by the hands of his old friend,
<* Tommy McCarthy." The negroes of the
party were finally wrought up to such a state
of excitement, that they ran for the mules,
and only taking time to cut the traces, started
for home leaving the old man and his confre-
res behind. This is said to he the real begin-
ning of the checkered history of the " Haunted
House." As soon as this incident pointed out
to the world this house as " haunted," more
ingenious stories began to radiate from the
doomed locality.
The house was seldom visited, except by
fishing parties. When it was known that a
party would be on the river, arrangements
were made to have men secreted within the
house. Being properly equipped with means by
which they could make their noises, they were
quite successful in the role of ghosts. Men
who were acquainted with the plot always ac-
companied the investigating parties, else the
ghosts were not heard. They were there to
prevent a shot being fired in a 'fatal direction,
as well as to misguide and throw the real
searchers off the track of the " ghosts." The
reader will now understand how the " ghost "
got out of the room in which I had him located.
In searching for ghosts, follow the principle,
Falsum in una, falsum in omnibus. I have given
my own experience literally and I have told the
experiences of others as they were told to me.
I dare say that some of my readers had already
suspicioned the " ghost " by carrying a search
light into this data and watching closely the
movements of a few spirits who had not yet
" shuffled off this mortal coil '."
Monday night came: so far I had not yet
divulged my secret. A bogus telegram from a
friend who " would be over to visit the ' Haun-
ted House,'" served my purpose. The old man
and his confreres put out for their post. While
they spent the mid-night watches concealed in
the lonely " McCarthy House," eighteen miles
from civilization, amid rats and flying squir-
rels, ready for my return to the buried treasure,
I had planned to be snugly sleeping on the
vestibule returning to my home in Carolina,
after my three days' sojourn on the banks of
one of the most lovely streams in which it has
ever been my pleasure to cast a hook and await
the pleasures of the epicures of the "pisca-
torial tribe."
What could have been the motive in at-
tempting to confine a fac-simile spirit of " old
Tommy McCarthy " in his quondam home for
so many years after the bona-fide spirit had
flown to "that undiscovered country from whose
bourne no traveler returns" I must leave for the
reader to assign.
Finish