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A GHOST STORY.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

THE Captain relapsed into the quiet complacency of one who had a good story to tell to expectant listeners. "It was about twilight when we two - Jackson and I - set out on horseback from Rio Janeiro. We were going to pay a visit to an old friend of ours, Don Reggio, whose place was about twenty miles outside the city.

"The ride, which on account of the dust would have been unbearable at noonday, was made pleasant by the coolness of approaching evening, and, for the first part, by the picturesqueness of the scenery on either side of us. The sun had set, and lights and shadows chased one another over the hills. I wish I could describe their effect. The gloom soon deepened, but there was plenty of light to guide us until the moon should rise. After three hours of riding we were neither of us sorry to catch sight of our friend's place. Don Reggio's grounds were very large, and his house lay some distance back from the road. The horses - the Don's own, which he had sent for our use - knew the way perfectly; and we thought we would dismount, stretch our cramped legs, and walk through to the house, letting the animals go by themselves to announce our presence.

"We were sure we could find the way, although we had never been to the place before. After walking for a short distance the path which we had taken branched off from the main road. After hesitating a moment we decided to follow the path. It was skirted by dense woods on either side, but the moon had already risen and lighted the way. We had proceeded but a short distance, Jackson ahead, I following him (the way was narrow), with my eyes on the ground to keep the path, when suddenly he stopped short and wrenched my arm violently. Startled, I raised my eyes. He was trembling like an aspen and pointing ahead. I followed the direction of his finger. What I saw I shall never forget. There, directly in front of us, straight across the path, was an enormous figure, all white, with outstretched arms that seemed ready to clasp us in their embrace. I was never a believer in ghosts, but then I had never met one face to face before; and coming upon this terrible presence at night in the woods, seemingly ready to swoop down on us, took every bit of scepticism out of me.

"To say I was frightened would but faintly express it. I was utterly unnerved. The impulse was to turn and fly. But a sense of shame held us still; we were two, and men; and besides, it was better to have the thing before our eyes than behind our backs. Ugh! I saw Jackson mechanically draw his revolver from his belt. I would have stopped him, but I could not : my hands and tongue were as if tied. He raised the pistol, aimed it with shaking hand, and fired. The smoke cleared away, and Jackson fell back on me, fainting. Oh, horrors! the bullet had gone clean through the devilish shape, and through the hole the moonlight was shining. A cold shiver ran through me and the perspiration streamed down my face. The figure dilated mockingly, and the arms waved back and forth threateningly, glistening deathly white. The head bowed solemnly. Good Heavens! this was more than mortal flesh could bear. I gave a frightful yell, seized hold of Jackson, - he was a light fellow, - and turning, fled down the path. To my amazement, I heard a gay peal of laughter ahead. On a sudden, in my mad rush, I came upon a group of ladies and gentlemen. I halted, and we were surrounded at once by a sympathizing crowd. At last I recovered myself so far as to be able to tell what had happened. My recital was received with shouts of laughter. Nettled at this reception, I demanded an explanation. Some of the gentlemen proposed to return with us (Jackson was all right by this time) and solve the mystery. We consented, stipulating that they should lead the way. When we reached the spot, there, sure enough, was the figure as before. We looked toward our guides in triumph. They seemed undisturbed. One of them seized a pole that lay by the side of the path and threw it at the thing. To my utter surprise the majestic form collapsed entirely, and fell to the ground. And then all was accounted for. What had caused us our fright was simply the web of a monstrous tropical spider. The moonlight, gleaming on the threads, contrasting with the dark foliage around, had given it the unearthly appearance; and the breeze had made it move to and fro in the ghostly manner that had capped the climax of my fear.

"Many a pleasant time did we enjoy at Don Reggio's, but we never heard the last of our quasi ghost."

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