Papers from Overlook-House

by Frederic W. Beasley

He corroborated the remark of our president, that if we put an end to the ghost story connected with the house where we were to spend the night, we should also, simultaneously, succeed in preventing the growth of superstition elsewhere. "All true—very true," he said; "I always notice that the doctor's remarks on all subjects run on alike, each of value like the other, like links in a gold chain. There is danger that this fear of ghosts will spread. I have some symptoms of it already in my household. The woman who attends to the milk, begins to look round her, and hurry home from the milk-house in the dusk of the evening with a very rapid pace, and to the neglect of some of her duties. And I think that Pompey has a decided seriousness at times,—as of a man destined to see something terrible. Perhaps this will occur on his first lonely drive at night by the grave-yard at our village beyond us. Tell me what I can do to make you comfortable to-night. I will see that the house is warmed at once, and provided with lights."

We walked with him over to the haunted dwelling. On our way he gave us some good practical advice, as we conversed on various subjects. It came from a practical spring of knowledge which he had acquired by reflection on all that he saw of men, and on the affairs that transpired. Indeed Saner, a lazy fellow, who smelt the instruction so amply spread for us at the literary table of Nassau Hall, but who never tasted or digested one crumb or other fragment, said to us, as we returned home afterwards—and that with a malicious sense of triumph over Latin, Greek, Philosophy, mental and moral,—Algebra, and like kindred venerable foes,—"You see a man can get sense of more real value out of the world than out of books."

"Saner," said I, "my dear fellow, is this worthy man possessed of the widely-extended sense of Dr. Smith? And do you think that any one to whom Providence has given the opportunity of collegiate education, and who will turn out an ignorant blockhead, will ever learn anything from observation? Besides our class,—or at least the deputation to the house of the ghost,—have their minds enlightened by our instruction. Now, I want to know whether this has not prepared us to glean instruction from the sensible remarks of Mr. Hollman? Do you think that the ignorant men who work for him, learn of him in a year what we do, or some of us do, in a day?"

But this is a digression.—To return to our survey of the dwelling. Unfortunately there was nothing very romantic in the structure. The frowning shadows of larch, and other forest trees; the massive walls were not there to call forth associations with some of the descriptions of castles which were the scenes of ghosts and of banditti—such as were common in the novels of the day.

The house looked desolate only because it was deserted, and had a dark history. There were two rooms on the first floor; one was a kitchen of considerable size. The other the sitting-room,—stove-room,—or parlor,—as it might happen to be called by the inmates. This was an apartment opened a few times in the year for company on great State occasions. Yet it gave all the year round,—a fact which weak critics often overlook when they talk about a useless room, and laugh in their dreaded but unproductive way,—gave all the year round a sense of ample accommodation and dignity to the mansion. From the kitchen a winding staircase ascended to the upper rooms. The small landing-place rested on the back wall of the house. Small garrets were over these rooms. The cellar was of the size of the dwelling, and afforded no hiding-place, nor any means of access to the interior from without, which we could not easily secure. A small shed rested against the back of the house, from the inside of which there was no door by which you could enter either room. It was obvious, from the pathway to this shed from the kitchen door, that the access of the family to it, was in the open air.

The most desolate thing to me was the well. It was one of those still seen in the little State—so elbowed by its big brothers of New York and Pennsylvania, and able to bear a great deal of such pressure. It was lorded over by that huge apparatus of the great long scale-beam, with a pole and bucket on one end, and a great weight on the other. A vine had crept up the pole, which must be torn away before water could be drawn. When had the matron called the good man to draw water from the deep and damp abode of truth? when had the children, returning from school, slaked their thirst from the bucket, covered in places by the green moss?

We could discover no manner by which any one disposed to disturb the inmates of the house, could secretly enter. It was amusing to notice how some of the students, had no conception of pranks to be played upon us in any other way than those known among collegians. However, we all agreed that our regulations for self-defence must be very simple. We had to wait for the demonstrations of the enemy, before we could do more than draw up our forces in a simple line for attack or defence.

The night, of course, came on. The whole class entered the house. We had good fires in the two rooms below, and in one above. Mr. Hollman sent chairs and tables, and a good stock of solid provisions. Lights had been provided, and we had with us a number of lanterns—two of which were to be kept burning all night. Some excellent cider had been sent to us; and if any had desired it, we would not have permitted the introduction of stronger drink. Our honor was concerned; Dr. Smith having reposed such entire confidence in our proceedings. There was an implied contract between us, and there were men in the class who would see that it was complied with, not only in letter, but in spirit. It was also obvious that if we had any intoxicating beverage among us, and should report strange sights, men would account for it in their own way. Indeed, if the young gents had engaged in a noisy revel, and their intellects had become clouded, we should have tempted some mischievous creature to try and create an alarm.

We soon were a lively party. The house was cheerful with its blazing fires and lights. But as that noble-hearted K——k, who became in aftertime so eloquent a preacher in the Presbyterian church—and M——r, for so many years a representative of his district in Congress—and H——t, afterwards a distinguished Bishop, took their seats by the fire in the kitchen—they soon drew around them the whole of our little army. We became so joyous and free from care, that we regretted that there were not other haunted houses requiring our aid. We had no more thought that our talk would be exhausted before morning, than the bird that its song will cease before the season for its melody is over. It was put to the vote by the leanest fellow in the class that we should not have our supper until we had passed the midnight hour.

All remained quiet for a long time, when a dismal sound near one of the windows arrested us, and caused a strange silence. It was the common opinion, that it was the visit of an owl. Before midnight a scraping noise was heard, and as we moved about, R——k insisted that he heard a sound of moving boards, as if some one had climbed hastily over the garden fence.