Every one awoke
marvellously renovated, and while sipping the refreshing beverage out
of the Baronet's old-fashioned hereditary china, began to think of
departing for their several homes. But here a sudden difficulty arose.
While we had been prolonging our repast, a heavy winter storm had set
in, with snow, rain, and sleet, driven by such bitter blasts of wind,
that they threatened to penetrate to the very bone.
"It's all in vain," said our hospitable host, "to think of putting
one's head out of doors in such weather. So, gentlemen, I hold you my
guests for this night at least, and will have your quarters prepared
accordingly."
The unruly weather, which became more and more tempestuous, rendered
The hospitable suggestion unanswerable. The only question was, whether
such an unexpected accession of company, to an already crowded house,
would not put the housekeeper to her trumps to accommodate them.
"Pshaw," cried mine host, "did you ever know of a Bachelor's Hall that
was not elastic, and able to accommodate twice as many as it could
hold?" So out of a good-humored pique the housekeeper was summoned to
consultation before us all. The old lady appeared, in her gala suit of
faded brocade, which rustled with flurry and agitation, for in spite
of mine host's bravado, she was a little perplexed. But in a
bachelor's house, and with bachelor guests, these matters are readily
managed. There is no lady of the house to stand upon squeamish points
about lodging guests in odd holes and corners, and exposing the shabby
parts of the establishment. A bachelor's housekeeper is used to shifts
and emergencies. After much worrying to and fro, and divers
consultations about the red room, and the blue room, and the chintz
room, and the damask room, and the little room with the bow window,
the matter was finally arranged.
When all this was done, we were once more summoned to the standing
Rural amusement of eating. The time that had been consumed in dozing
after dinner, and in the refreshment and consultation of the cedar
parlor, was sufficient, in the opinion of the rosy-faced butler, to
engender a reasonable appetite for supper. A slight repast had
therefore been tricked up from the residue of dinner, consisting of
cold sirloin of beef; hashed venison; a devilled leg of a turkey or
so, and a few other of those light articles taken by country gentlemen
to ensure sound sleep and heavy snoring.
The nap after dinner had brightened up every one's wit; and a great
deal of excellent humor was expended upon the perplexities of mine
host and his housekeeper, by certain married gentlemen of the company,
who considered themselves privileged in joking with a bachelor's
establishment. From this the banter turned as to what quarters each
would find, on being thus suddenly billeted in so antiquated a
mansion.
"By my soul," said an Irish captain of dragoons, one of the most merry
and boisterous of the party - "by my soul, but I should not be
surprised if some of those good-looking gentlefolks that hang along
the walls, should walk about the rooms of this stormy night; or if I
should find the ghost of one of these long-waisted ladies turning into
my bed in mistake for her grave in the church-yard.
"Do you believe in ghosts, then?" said a thin, hatchet-faced gentleman,
with projecting eyes like a lobster.
I had remarked this last personage throughout dinner-time for one of
Those incessant questioners, who seem to have a craving, unhealthy
appetite in conversation. He never seemed satisfied with the whole of
a story; never laughed when others laughed; but always put the joke to
the question. He could never enjoy the kernel of the nut, but pestered
himself to get more out of the shell.
"Do you believe in ghosts, then?" said the inquisitive gentleman.
"Faith, but I do," replied the jovial Irishman; "I was brought up in
the fear and belief of them; we had a Benshee in our own family,
honey."
"A Benshee - and what's that?" cried the questioner.
"Why an old lady ghost that tends upon your real Milesian families,
and wails at their window to let them know when some of them are to
die."
"A mighty pleasant piece of information," cried an elderly gentleman,
with a knowing look and a flexible nose, to which he could give a
whimsical twist when he wished to be waggish.
"By my soul, but I'd have you know it's a piece of distinction to be
waited upon by a Benshee. It's a proof that one has pure blood in
one's veins. But, egad, now we're talking of ghosts, there never was a
house or a night better fitted than the present for a ghost adventure.
Faith, Sir John, haven't you such a thing as a haunted chamber to put
a guest in?"
"Perhaps," said the Baronet, smiling, "I might accommodate you even on
that point."
"Oh, I should like it of all things, my jewel. Some dark oaken room,
with ugly wo-begone portraits that stare dismally at one, and about
which the housekeeper has a power of delightful stories of love and
murder. And then a dim lamp, a table with a rusty sword across it, and
a spectre all in white to draw aside one's curtains at midnight - "
"In truth," said an old gentleman at one end of the table, "you put me
in mind of an anecdote - "
"Oh, a ghost story! a ghost story!" was vociferated round the board,
every one edging his chair a little nearer.
The attention of the whole company was now turned upon the speaker.
