THE POLITE GHOST
Once there was a ghost—there were ghosts once—who thought to see the world of men, women, and animals of by-gone days.
Possessing the power of annihilating space, both of yards and years, this ghost called upon a weird thing, who said, after its surprise at being disturbed had partly passed:
"A feathered biped(1) I am known to be,
But gifted with the power of English speech;
Uttering again and many times again
The saddest words within a mortal's reach.
A grim dark thing of evil omen, I,
Repeating evermore my doleful cry."
"Quite too grewsome even for me," said the ghost, as he entered a camp of Brabacons(2). The sentinel, surprised at the strange voice, asked, "Who goes there?" And the ghost, not being able to reply "friend," and too polite to lie, vanished, and soon knocked at the door of the Pope of Rome(3) who, tradition says, kicked the crown off a German emperor's head, to show his power to make and unmake kings. The door being opened, the ghost disappeared to call on the King of France(4) who once navigated the Ohio River on a flat-boat and gave his name as Smith.
"Too vulgar royalty for me," said the ghost to himself, too well bred to show his contempt. Turning to go he stubbed his toe—yes, this ghost had a real toe—he stubbed his great toe against something. Picking it up he found it to be the first book(5) to have its pages numbered. "That will do," he said, under his breath, "to give to the 'Sword Hunters'(6). It will be such a good joke on them, for it tells bigger lies than they can."
Cutting 'cross lots, the ghost next scared out of an old abandoned house a city of British India(7), and was so startled for the moment that he wished himself in the United States with the insect(8) that country people might carry to the barn when arriving home late at night. A wish being equal to a journey by sea and land, the ghost was presently in America. On the way, however, he passed over the sea(9) which, having two outlets to larger seas, its waters never flow out, but always in, and yet its surface is ever several feet lower than the larger waters west and southeast of it. He startled the "midnight judiciary"(10), begged the members' pardon, retired, and almost immediately crossed seas and met the woman(11) who furnished Sir Walter Scott with descriptions of Irish characters for one of his novels. He told her he wished to call next on the Queen of England(12) who saved her husband's life by sucking poison from a wound.
"You should take the 'X.Y.Z. letters'(13) with you as introduction," was the reply.
"Even so," said the ghost, "I might not be received."
"But you would had you the tact of the man(14) who compared himself, when he should be dead, to a book."
"Ah yes, but I have no country, being but a ghost. I am like the man(15) who once refused a sword from a Russian Czar. If now I were the man(16) who shut up Paraguay, making it a second Japan for twenty-five years!"
"Or the Pope of Rome(17) who was made a cardinal at the age of fourteen."
"Ay, or even the Confederate commander(18) at the siege of New Orleans in April, 1862."
Determining next to go to the smallest and oldest republic in the world(19), the ghost bade his fair companion adieu and started. Wearied with long travel, he sought conveyance. Finding himself on board a queer one, he asked an explanation, and was told this:
"A very mountain high and bright,
In all the land I'm never seen;
Formed of a substance liquid light,
Yet hard and dealing death, I ween.
"Men view me with delight and awe
If I a distance safe preserve.
But my approach they flee before,
Nor pause my beauty to observe."(20).
The ghost next tried the ship(21) that carried the Golden Fleece. This took him to lands where he mounted the seat beside the driver(22) of the chariot of the sun. This he did, not without first being invited. He was too well bred to presume.
But he had run his course, for even the outing of a polite ghost must end. The Revolutionary general(23) who was once tied to the stake by Indians, a fire started around him, and was then saved by a rainstorm, got hold of him, this polite ghost, and was not to be scared by him.
"Who are you?" demanded the general.
"The god(24) of fun," replied the truthful, polite, and mythological ghost.
"Heigho! Heigho!! Heigho!!!" shouted the general at the top of his lungs, and looking up to the sky.
"I'll go, I'll go," said the ghost, frightened at the voice, but relieved at sight of what came in answer to it.
"There! there's the porter of heaven who opens the door(25). Get you gone," thundered the general.
And the ghost went.
In this fanciful story are mentioned a lot of odd things—people by their nicknames, articles by their descriptive characteristics, etc. There are also some riddles. In sending answers, do not write out the story. Number answers as numbered here, write one below another in the proper order, and put your name and address at the top of your first sheet of answers. Mail answers not later than March 1, 1897, to Harper's Round Table, New York—no street number required—and put in the lower left-hand corner of your envelope "Puzzle Answer." Correct answers, with names of winners, will be published in Harper's Round Table as early after the close of the contest as possible, probably within about two weeks.
The prizes, which will be awarded by the Messrs. Harper & Brothers, Publishers, New York, are: $39, divided among the three or four best solvers according to merit. Persons of any age may help find the answers, but only those who have not passed their 18th birthday, and who are members of households in which this paper is regularly read, may send them in. Merit signifies correctness and neatness, and has no reference to the solution reaching the office of Harper's Round Table first in point of time. Elaborate decoration of answers is not encouraged. Use common stationery, note size, and do not roll. Write on one side of the paper only. Everything comes to those who—try!