My Dear Charles—
When I promised to write to you during the holidays, I little thought I should have so much to put in my letter. I actually fancied it would be difficult to find enough to fill one sheet; and now I do really believe two will not be sufficient for all I have to say: but to commence my story, which you must know, is a real Ghost Story! But to begin:—
While we were at breakfast the other morning, papa showed mamma an advertisement in the "Times" newspaper, remarking, at the same time, that it appeared just the thing he had long wanted; and that he would go to the Solicitor's and make enquiries, and if it seemed still eligible, would go immediately and see about it. Upon asking what it was;
I was told it was an estate in South Wales to be disposed of; on which was a large commodious dwelling house, which at a trifling expence, might be converted into a family mansion. It commanded, the paper said, a picturesque view, with plenty of shooting and fishing.—It further stated, that on one part of the grounds, were the ruins of a castle, and a great deal more, in its favor, but you know the glowing descriptions with which these great London auctioneers always set off any property they have to dispose of.
Papa had every reason to be satisfied, that it was what he desired; so it was settled he should start by railway that very evening. And you may judge how delighted I was when he asked if I should like to accompany him. You may be sure I did not refuse; so we got ready, and started by the eight o'clock train.
We travelled all night and arrived at our destination about four next day. Papa thought I should sleep during the night, but I found it impossible, for a gentleman, whom we met in the cars, knew the place, and said so much in favour of it, that I could think of nothing else, but he admitted there was a drawback, and that a great prejudice existed against it, which caused no little difficulty in the disposal of. It was reported to be haunted, and one or two people, who had bought it, had actually paid money to get off the bargain. Of course, hearing this, my mind dwelt much on it, though I said nothing, lest I might be suspected of being afraid. Now, you know, it is not a little, frightens me at school, but I was greatly puzzled at all I heard, and determined I would rally my courage. After dinner, we strolled out to take a look at the proposed purchase. Papa was very much pleased with all he saw. House, grounds, and prospect were, he said, all he could wish, and not even the report of a ghost, did he consider, any disadvantage, but quite the contrary, as he certainly would never else be able to buy it for double the sum they now asked for it.
By the time we got back to the inn, Mrs. Davis, our landlady, had learnt the purport of our visit, and we, consequently, found her in great consternation. We had hardly entered, than she exclaimed:—
"Why surely, Sir, you are not going to buy Castle Hill? Why it is haunted, as sure as my name is Peggy Davis!"
"Well, my dear madam," said Papa, "haunted or not, such is my present intention."
"Why, sir, nobody can live there. Don't you know there's a ghost seen there every night."