LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2403, 17 December 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

WHAT IT ME AM’. [“ Temple Bar.”] ■ ( Concluded) The heat had moderated and the air was fresher. Tired and yet excited, I lay down, I closed my eyes, dreading a repetition of the vision (though, indeed, that is a misnomer as there was nothing to be seen), and yet nervously hoping for some continuation of it that might give me the clue to guide me through its labyrinth—that might give me a ro asenrirg solution of its riddle. But none such came I had difficulty in falling affsep at all at first, so hopelessly alert and at work seemed my brain; but gradually lassitude got tho better of my excitement, and I slept. Bat no trace 'f any dream disturbed or varied my deep slumber. Nor on any of the succeeding nights did I hear any repetition of that strange find melancholy voice. It seemed to have had leave to speak but that once And as the days and hours passed by, time’s influence, Invariably numbing, do: dened the Impression that at first had been so keen. After a while I tried to avoid thinking of it, as of something painful, unnerving, and yet meaningless, nor did I mention it to any living soul. To relate it would have seemed to give it added importance. And so- a week of our placid and uniform life slipped away. The weather was cool aga : n, and wo played tennis from morning to night. At first the same sentiment which had made ua leave Lick’s chair vacant, prevented ns from supplying his place in the game; but as this principle could not be carried ont through life, that whatever he done henceforth, until his return, be left undone, we by and-by associated to ourselves, as occasion offered, a neighboring curate, or squire, and so, all day long, the balls flew, and ’he grass waxed over barer, balder, and more worn, where our preserving 'eefc continually trampled it. But still, of course, the Indian mail remained the event of our lives. We were so much behind the time and lived so deep-sunk in the country, that we bad no second post, nor wou d my father take any steps to obtain one, ns he said that onoo a day was quite enough to he p'-stored with letters, and that, for his part, if it were once a we?k instead, he could very well put up with it. But it was by the second that the Indian letters came to onr post town, and on the mail day it was an invatiablo custom that some of na should drive in to fetch them. To send a servant tor them would have baulked our im pat'ence and would besides havs seemed a disrespect to them. So, whether it shone or rained, Alice end 1, as surely as the post day came, might he seen whipping np our old pony into unwonted aud unwilling speed along the road to On that day it shone — shone bo strongly that Alice, who drove, asked me for a share of my large sunnha' , e j and beneath it we trotted along in happv expectancy. When we reached the no:-,t office, the letters were still being sorted, so we had to wait a few momenta. But we were rewarded for our waiting. A letter in the beloved handwriting, and with the usual postmark, was soon put into our eager hands. Wo waited to open it till we were ont of the little town, and off the cobblestones, so that we might comfortably enjoy it, the one who read without raising her voice, and the one who listened without straining her ears. It was addressed to Alice, though of course, like all his letters, meant for the benefit of' tho whole family. We were always glad when the letters were to either of us, as they were usually of a lighter and more oonvenatlonal type thin those directed to our parents— Uss

about the customs and habits of the natives, the resources of the country, &0,, and more about the gossip of the station, tho picnics, tho qua-rels of the regimental ladles, the flirtations. This was a particularly good specimen of our favorite kind, and as we passed along, the old pony dropped anrebuked into ft leisurely rolling amble, the reins fell loose on his hick while Alice and l together stooped our heads over tho cage in tho vain effort to decipher an illegible but obviously important word on which tho p dnt of a whole sentence turned. We were so absorbed that we did not perceive a te'egraph boy who was marching along the dnsty road in the same direction as ourselves, until recognising onr pony chaise, he made signs to us to stop, holding out, as he did so, one of those familiar orange missives that alternately order dinners and announce death. 1 took it, though with no particular misgiving ; people employ the telegraph wires for such harmless trillss nowadays. It was addressed—not to any of ns—but to “ Mrs Grainger, housekeeper at Hall,” Mrs Grainger waa one of those servants who —rail, and justly rail as oue may at the class of domestic servants In general are yet so numerous that one can scarcely ever take up the ‘Times’ without reading the lamented death of one of these chronicled in its obituary. She had nursed us all three lovingly ; Dick first, and most lovingly, and was now almost as well known to our friends —to soma even of Dick’s friends, notably his alter ego. Major , who not long before our boy’s departure had been paying us a visit—as wo ourselves. ‘lt Is for N» Nftl’ I said (we still called her by that infantile name). ‘ I hope that it is no bad news for her : she was rather frightened by the last accounts of her consumptive niece.’ ‘ Yon had better open it, at all events, answered Alice; ‘it may require an answer.’

So I opened It. she looking over my shoulder :— ‘ From Major , , India, to Mrs Granger, housekeeper at Hall, shire. Mr ; attacked by a tiger, out shooting. Killed on the spot. Break it to his family. Have written.’ I read it through at first without any comprehension, so totally unoxpectant was I, so prepossessed with the idea that tho telegram did not concern ns at all, but contained ill news for NiKa; and when comprehension did come, there came with it incredulity. It was nonsense! Why, it was not two minutes since we had been reading his letter; laughing over his account of the misadventures that had happened at the picnic he had been at; puzzling over the ill-written word ! How oonld he write letters and be dead J I snatched up the letters, and frantically turned back to tho date on the fiist page It was a month ago ! The telegram was not twenty-four hours oldl Then I believe I gave a dreadful yelling laugh, and then God had pity on me —indeed I needed It—and I remember no more. But that was what my dream meant, I suppose. The yellow lily striped with brown; the yellow ribbon striped with brown. They were figures and foreshadowings of the cruel striped beast that tore onr hoy. * * * The singular dream and its solution related above are true. Only the dressing up is fictitious.— From ‘ Temple Bar.’

THE GHOST OF A LANTHEN. In the month of January, 1862, I was stationed with my regiment upon Arlington Heights, Va. On the 22nd day of tho month mentioned I was ordered to take my company and relieve the garrison of one of the smaller forts built io afford protection to the National Capital from Ihe enemy lying to the southward The Signal Service, afterward so effective, waa then in its infancy,, and the corps, to which I had previously been for a short time temporarily attached, was kept at drill almost constantly day and night. In fact, there was scarcely an hour out of the twenty-four when the flag or lantern could not be perceived in motion on Georgetown Heights, or “ Red Hill,” as it was sometimes called by the soldiers. There wore stations both np and down the Potomac forming a continuous line of communication for many miles, and os I was able to read the despatches or messages, I found relief from many a wearisome term of duty in deciphering them as they were transmitted to and fro.

On the night of January 31st, twelve o’clock, I started out, as was my custom, to make the rounds of the fort, and thus assure mysefl that everything was as it should be, and nearly completed my errand, when Private Holman, the guard stationed In the south-west angle of the redoubt, called my attention to the peculiar movements cf a light located some little distance in a southerly direction from the Signal Service station upon the 'Eed Hill.’ The light seemed to be in a ravine or back of some obstruction, that hid it from every other point of view outside of a line drawn through the angle in which we stood, in a south-easterly and north-westerly direction. To assure myself of that fact I even went outside of the fortification and made a complete circuit around it, taking numerous observations by the way, and found the light apparently proceeding from a lantern, invisible except from points within twenty-five or thirty feet upon either aide of the line mentioned.

When first pointed out to me the light was seemingly some eight feet or ao above the ground (although, of course, owing to the darkness I could only guess the elevation), and was moving in a circle as though mounted upon a staff and being rapidly swung about above the head of whoever had it in hand. Suddenly it was lowered to the position of ‘ charge bayonets,’ and again revolving, perpendicularly, like o wheel upon its axle. This movement was kept up for perhaps a minute, then ceased, and the lantern began to act intelligently. The first word flashed oat I was able to understand without a reference to my key to the system which was yet in my possession. It startled me. ‘Danger’ was spelled as plainly as though written in the largest sized capital letters upon a copy-book placed close before me under the broad light of day. With a rapidity I never in all my life have seen equalled, the word was repeated ; then followed another, with a repeat, and part of which I could not make out. Thus far, and the light disappeared, as though it were hastily and violently dashed to the earth. Quick as the motions had been, however, I had succeeded in getting the numbers and combinations. Meanwhile I had noticed that the regular stations were working harmoniously as far down as Fort Washington, and In intelliaible communication with those upon the upon the and surrounding heights. After waiting some time to see if there would ba a recurrence of the strange proceeding, I went to quarters, and by aid of my signal book deciphered the message, which read thus—' Danger—danger—helphelp—mar’—there it ended. To say that I was puzzled would but faintly express what I felt, I was bewildered, alarmed, annoyed —I oonld hardly tell why—and stood for some time debating in my own mind what courte I had best pursue. I at length turned in, and next morning reported the matter at headquarters and was wall laughed at for my pains. The next night, February Ist, I indicated the locality as nearly as possible, and directed the sentinel stationed In the line of observation to keep close watch, and upon appearance of any light in that vicinity to make it known by having me sent for. It lacked bat a few moments of midnight when the warning came. Hastening to the sport I saw a repetition cf the phenomena of the preceding night., and from the same point. The swift horizontal, or nearly horizontal, revolutions succeeded by the perpendicular, then the message—” Danger I Danger ! Help I Help ! Mur—”—and sudden extinguishment of the signal fire. The next morning I procured leave of absence and visited the camp of the signal corps above Georgetown. Inquiry there developed the fact that not one of the men had been absent or unaccounted for on either of the occasions above indicated, even for half an hour. Assuring myself of this fact, I next turned my s’eps in tne direction from whore the strange light roust have proceeded. The spot was found without difficulty. It was a narrow ravine, not very large, running down toward the river, and at the bottom nearly, if not quite, destitute of timber. From it, by aid of my field-glass, I could almost recognise tha sentinel posted In the angle from which I had first beheld the mysterious signaling. Before I left the camp I asked one of the officers, an old acquaintance, to station a good sergeant la the ravine with his lantern to tignal across to me whatever mizht transpire He agreed to do ao, and I returned to my post considerably elated at the thought that the mystery was in a fair way of being solved.

It was a little after 11 p.m. when I entered the angle and turned my vision toward tho opposite hills. I had just looked at my watch ; it wanted then six minutes to twelve, when the light, which I more than half expected, flashed out through the darkness. Around and around, over and over it went, as if endeavoring to attract attention —then up, right, left, forwaid, and so on, so rapidly I had difficulty la fo lowing its motions until It was, as on the preceding occasions seemingly dashed to earth and extinguished. I waited far nt least an hour for some Indication that the sergeant was at his post, but none came. I felt sorely troubled, superstitions, and could hardly refrain from at once crossing the river to probo the matter to the bottom Directly after daybreak I procured another leave of absence, and passed over the aqueduct, made my way to the signal camp, where I found the utmost excitement prevailing. The sergeant detailed at my request the night before had bonn found murdered upon the identical spot where he had been posted. His lantern lay in fragments upon tho ground near by, and careful search detected in the soil the prints of three pairs of feet besides his own. A knife wound in the left side, near the heart, and the marks of a severe blow upon the head, which had fractured the skull, proved the manner of his death. We inspected every foot of territory between the unfortunate soldier’s body and the river, from whence we supposed the attack to hare come, but found nothing of consequence anywhere. At the water’s edge we did, it is true, see indications of a boat having been drawn up on the shelving beach—nothing more. An investigation was made in every possible direction, but nothing came of it. I told my story, which was believed by some, and by others laughed at; and but for the fact that I had, at the time of asking the detail, partly told it to the officer in command, might have found myself in an unpleasant predicament on account of my connection with the myeterious death. As it happened, the matter gradually died out of mind, and being transferred to the peninsula not long afterward oven my remembrance of the matter was blunted by other events. Tho mystery is, however, to-day as great as ever. The circumstances of the sergeant’s deatli has never been made to appear, nor have I ever been able to account, except through the agency of spirits, for those warning manifestations preceding for two nights his taking off, and which were the exact counterpart of those produced by himself on the fatal occasion in his endeavours to attract my attention, in order that by my replying or communicating with the station, be might be saved from harm.