Today | News | Books | Recipes Adventure | Science Fiction | Ghost stories | Poetry | Children | History Booke so good. The guests are gathering fast and I will smoke fast, too." The young man hastily filled the pipe with the last of the tobacco and the ghost smoked it and handed it back, saying: "The tobacco is nearly all powder and does not smoke so well as the rest. No, no, I am not blaming you, but only saying that one of my experiences in life has been that when we do not use the good things of life with moderation we are sure to find the last lacking in flavor. Now, I could not resist one last smoke when I knew I might never have another, and in so doing I drained the cup to the dregs, so to speak-" "Excuse me for interrupting, but if I am alive next year, and you will tell me how I can find you, I will come and bring such creature comforts as you may wish to have. If you will tell me-" "I thank you with all my heart, and would suggest that the liquid refreshment might be rum, good Jamaica rum. I acquired a taste for that, and beyond that and a good smoke I can ask for nothing for it may have occurred to you that I have no need for food. "We are now about to go below for the banquet and general reunion of such of us as have become acquainted. There will be some guests from Derby, Conn., and some of their relatives, and there will be some Revolutionary soldiers, and quite a number of tramp ghosts. A few sailors will also be here. They have been lying in a forgotten place over in Brooklyn and they are now being rooted out of there for someone wants to build a house. And I notice there seven old fellows who have been lying under the Hall of Records. There was once a cemetery there and many more are there but I shall not be the one to go and tell where. It is bad enough to be waiting for your passport without having to be a tramp ghost beside. Many of the old Revolutionary heroes lie there and in the language of a poet: 'The knights are dust, And their good swords are rust; Their souls are with the saints, we trust.' "Ah, well! Ladies will also grace the feast. The only unpleasant thing is that we have never been able to sweep away class distinctions, and pride of birth. And, I must confess that I am as bad as anyone, for whenever I see a sailor I just ache to send him to the forecastle, and of course there is no such place here. You have heard of the ruling passion being strong in death. It remains with us much as it was before we died, and it seems as if nothing can be of much moral or spiritual good until we get our passports." Just as the newspaper man was about to ask again about the passports, the other ghosts were so near that he waited, and at that moment a tall ghost stood up very straight, and smoothing a lock of imaginary hair from his forehead, said: "Ladies and gentlemen-." Then he paused and looked so steadily at the young man that he felt his heart sink into his boots, but the tall ghost contented himself with one long regard, and then he continued: "Ladies and gentlemen, we have met here tonight to fulfill our yearly duty, and to meet in friendly intercourse. I hope you will all have a good time." As he said this he sat down on the edge of a crumbling headstone and glared around. There were murmurs of approbation and he rose and bowed with as much grace as was possible to a ghost who had scarcely a dozen remnants of his shroud hanging around him. But this absence of raiment did not seem to affect the ghosts in the least, and only one or two appeared to notice that their shrouds were in need of repair. They were now by the northwest corner of the Church, and at a sign from the tall ghost they all followed him and marched around back to the Lawrence tomb. This was thrown open like a door in the solid masonry, and they began to descend in couples, such a crowd that they looked like mist, and no one stood out a distinct individuality in the transit. The good-natured ghost then took the newspaper man by the arm and they followed the rest. No one took the slightest notice of them for which the man not yet dead was very thankful. He did not half like the idea of going down into the bowels of the earth among all these ghosts. As soon as they were down the young man saw to his surprise that there was a room so vast that his sight could not penetrate it to the end of it nor the width in any direction. It was lighted with a radiance so suave and pure that he wondered from whence it came. The vast place was sustained by many columns of the finest marble, and was arched somewhat after the fashion of the church above. He could not repress an exclamation of surprise and pleasure, for never in his life did he see anything approaching it for beauty. Every column was carved in a different manner, and it seemed to him as if all the artists in the world or that ever lived had each made one, and this in competition with the others. One would be covered with flowers of such delicacy and perfection that it was impossible to believe them of marble, and the young man put out his hand and touched some of them to make sure that they were not some new and colorless plants growing down here. Others were covered with the most intricate designs, and the eye wearied in trying to follow the lines, so interlaced and complicated they were. Others looked like lace. The fine lace pattern could be traced in all its daintiness, and it was a marvel of skill. Some of the columns resembled the tracery on the walls of the Alhambra, and some had vines through which peeped women's faces in all moods, ages and degrees of beauty. Twin columns stood in one place and, on these nothing but children's faces. Some of the babies carved on them were laughing, others crying, and so crowded, one beside another, and one above another that one wondered how so many could have been found in the world. Some of the babies were dead, others sick, some asleep, some plump and dimpled and more wan and wasted. Babies, babies, and yet more babies. The newspaper man was lost in astonishment at the number of them and the exquisiteness of the artist's work. He examined so many of these beautiful columns that his brain was weary with the effort. Then he turned his gaze to the lighting of this immense place, and was surprised that he had not noticed it at first. There were arches innumerable, and each one of these was covered with glowing vines, all such as bear flowers. In some places were hung baskets of the most gorgeous orchids, with their pendant foliage. Many of the columns had passion vines covered with their mysterious blossoms. There were roses and clematis and hundreds of other flowers that he had never seen, all climbing up those arches, and drooping in graceful festoons. He suddenly became aware that all the light emanated from the flowers and the leaves of these climbing plants. The passion flowers emitted light of the natural color of these blossoms, and the roses shed soft radiance. Even the leaves and tendrils were incandescent. Every bud and flower gave its share of light and the effect of all the |