THE NIGHT WATCH.

A TALE.

News, fitted to the night.

Black, fearful, comfortless and horrible.

King John.

On a cold December night, in the winter of 183-, four persons were assembled in an upper chamber of an old out-house in one of the crooked streets at the “North End” of Boston. This was in former times the most fashionable part, the court end, as it were, of the town, and the house of which I speak had been the residence of one of the old colonial governors, and bore traces of its former magnificence, now almost effaced by the ravages of time and neglect.

It was a dark and tempestuous night. The wind howled mournfully through the narrow streets and around the tall houses of the “North End,” and the few passengers who were abroad wrapped their garments tighter about them, and hurried to seek shelter from the cutting blast. Within doors the aspect of things was more cheerful. An old-fashioned wood fire burned brightly on the hearth; the heavy folds of the crimson curtains excluded every breath of cold air, and the usual conveniences of comfort and luxury were distributed through the apartment. The company, consisting of myself and three female friends, were drawn closely up to the cheerful blaze, apparently as comfortable as possible. The cause of our meeting here was this. A neighbor, one Mr. Helger, had died very suddenly the day before. He had formerly been engaged largely in trade, but meeting with reverses which soured his disposition, and cast a shade of gloom over his character, he had withdrawn entirely from the world, and lived all alone by himself in this large house. We, being neighbors, had offered our services to watch with the corpse, as was the custom. The room in which we were had been the apartment of the deceased, and was fitted up with much taste, and even luxury, but all the rest of the house was bare and unfurnished, and was said by the neighbors to be haunted. The corpse was placed in a room just across the entry, so that we could hear a noise or disturbance if there should be any. Refreshments had been provided, and we had nothing to do but to make ourselves comfortable, and amuse ourselves until morning should release us from our duty.

The time flew by very quickly in pleasant chat, and when, during a lull of the storm, we heard the neighboring clock on the steeple of the North church strike the hour of twelve, we were all surprised at the lateness of the hour.

“’Tis now the very witching time of night,

When church-yards yawn, and hell itself breathes out

Contagion to the world,”

said I; “can’t some of you ladies tell a genuine, old-fashioned, terrific ghost-story for our edification? Surely, Mrs. Johnstone, you must know one; you always have plenty of interesting stories.”

The lady addressed thought a moment in silence, and then replied, “I can tell you a ghost-story, and what is more, vouch for its reality, for the incident happened to myself. It was a good many years ago, but it is as distinctly imprinted on my memory as if it took place yesterday.” A ghost-story, told by one of the actors in it, could not fail to be interesting; so we drew our chairs nearer the fire, assumed a listening attitude, and the lady began.

“You must know, in the first place, that I was married at a very early age, and a year or two after, left my native place, and went with my husband to live in the interior of Vermont. The country was little settled at that time, being mostly covered with unbroken forests. I felt the change of situation very strongly. I had lived all my life in the midst of a large city, surrounded by a numerous family of brothers and sisters. We had gone into society a good deal, and had been in the habit of seeing many people, and engaging in all the amusements of the day. My present residence was in the midst of dense forests, the next neighbor lived two miles off, and the nearest town was on the Connecticut, more than ten miles from our farm. The house stood on one corner of the clearing, not more than a hundred yards from the woods, through which, on stormy nights, the winds howled in mournful and sad tones. In winter the deep snows cut off all communication with the other parts of the country, and sometimes we did not see a stranger for months. To this lonely spot I had removed, after having always been accustomed to the noise and bustle of a city, and it was not strange that it should seem gloomy to me.

“One day in autumn, in the month of November I think it was, my husband told me that he was going to take his men and go over to the next town for some necessary articles, and he was afraid that he should not be able to get home that night. So away he went, and left me alone in the house, with the exception of my infant child. I had brought a black woman with me from home, but the change of situation did not agree with her. She had been taken ill, and had died about a fortnight before the time of which I speak. On account of the difficulty of procuring servants, I had not been able to get another woman to supply her place, so I was entirely alone.

“After supper I sat by the kitchen fire some time, till at last I dropped asleep in my chair. I was awakened by the shrill sound of the tall, old-fashioned clock, striking the hour of ten. The candle had burned low in its socket, and the expiring embers diffused a faint glow through the room. I jumped up, rubbed my eyes, and prepared to go to bed. I took the light and was leaving the room, when somebody knocked at the outside door of the house. I was a little startled that any one should knock at the door at that time of night, but presently I thought that my husband had changed his mind and returned home after all. I went and opened the door, but nobody was there. I shut the door, rather surprised, and sat down by the fire.

“To understand my story clearly, you must know the arrangement of the room in which I was. On one side was the door leading into the open air, on the opposite side, the doors leading to the parlors, etc. On the third side of the room was the fireplace, and on the fourth, the door of a bed-room in which black Charlotte had slept, and where, as I have said, she died a fortnight before. This door was a little way open. I went and shut it, and had hardly done so, when the knocking was repeated with startling distinctness, and a moment after I saw the door of the bed-room slowly open, and remain ajar. I went again to the door and looked out, but, as before, I could see no one. I then shut the door of the bed-room and latched it fast. I began to feel frightened, for I could find no one who could have knocked at the door, nor could I account for the mysterious opening of the bed-room door. All the stories of ghosts and witches that I had ever heard came into my head, and hundreds of imaginary horrors beside. I made up my mind, however, that if I should hear the knocking again, I would go into the bed-room and see if any thing was there. I listened. All was quiet, and I could hear nothing but the beating of my own heart. A third time the knocking was repeated, slowly and distinctly, and a third time the haunted door slowly opened. I seized the candle and rushed in. I looked every where, but nothing was to be seen. I came out, shut the door behind me, and then went out into the open air. No one was in sight. There was a storm coming up, and the wind howled mournfully through the branches of the tall trees. To my excited fancy every thing looked strangely and differently from its usual appearance. By the dim light of the waning moon, which was half obscured by the driving clouds that shrouded her disk, I fancied I saw something moving in the deep shadow of the trees. I shuddered and closed the door. I went up stairs and looked at my child. He lay calmly sleeping in his cradle, and his deep breathing was the only sound that disturbed the stillness of the house. I felt more assured after looking at the innocent face of the little boy. I felt that even if God should permit an evil spirit to work its will for a time, he would never allow it to harm a thing so holy and innocent as that little child. I endeavored to calm my mind by the reflection that I had always treated the dead woman with kindness, and if it was really her ghost that was haunting the house, it would have no reason to injure me. But my heart grew sick within me when I heard again—‘Knock! knock! knock!’ and saw the door of the haunted room slowly open as before.”

Here Mrs. Johnstone stopped talking, and listened intently, as if she was trying to catch some distant sound.

“I certainly heard it,” at length she said. “I hear it now—I certainly hear a noise as of some one moving in the death-chamber. Let us go in and see if any thing is there.”

So saying she arose, took a candle in her hand, and went across the entry to the neighboring apartment. Presently she shrieked and ran back into the room where we were, with her face as pale as death, and said, in a very excited tone⁠—

“Oh! such a sight as I have seen! The corpse sat upright in his coffin, and seemed as if trying to speak to me.”

“You want to frighten us, Mrs. Johnstone,” said I. “First you tell an awful story about a mysterious knocking, and then, to increase the effect, you come in and tell us this. I am sorry to say that I don’t believe a word of it.”

“It is no time for jesting now, young man,” rejoined she. “God forbid that I should sport with such an awful thing as death. But as true as I hope for salvation I saw Mr. Helger sitting erect in his coffin, and such a look as he gave me—it will haunt me till my dying day. But, if you don’t believe me, go and look for yourself.”

I hastily seized a candle, and went to the room where the corpse was laid. The rest of the company followed at a little distance. Just as I approached the door I thought I heard a step in the inside of the room, as of one coming to meet me. I said nothing, however, and took hold of the door-handle to open the door—but to my horror it was grasped on the inside and violently turned. I seized the door and held it to with all my strength, while it was pulled strongly against me by whatever infernal shape was in the room. The women screamed dreadfully and dropped the lights, which went out, leaving us only the dim light from the fire in the opposite room. The storm without howled round the old house with redoubled fury. It was a fearful scene. I felt faint and sick—my strength gave way—I let go the door. Mr. Helger, in his grave-clothes, stood in the door-way, deathly pale, his face streaming with blood, and his features distorted by a ghastly grin. We turned and ran frantically down stairs, tumbling over each other in our haste.

Just as we were running out of the house we heard Mr. Helger behind us. We ran up the street all the faster, the women screaming at the top of their voices. The noise and hubbub at last woke up a watchman, who had been peaceably slumbering in a sheltered corner. That functionary, wrathful at being disturbed from his nap, arrested our farther progress with his hook.

“An’ what the divil wud yees be doin’ wid yerselves here, the night?” inquired he, in a decided brogue.

This pertinent question brought me to my senses. I pulled some money from my pocket, and told the son of Erin to come back with us and he should be well paid for his services. We went back toward the house, and there, near the door, we found Mr. Helger, lying exhausted and fainting on the ground.

We raised him up and carried him back into the house, and put him into bed; and then I despatched Pat for a physician. He soon returned, bringing one whom he had roused from his slumbers. The physician took out his lancet and bled the patient, and, having administered the usual remedies, I had the satisfaction of hearing him say that he thought it probable in a few days Mr. Helger would recover, and be as well as ever. He advised us to remain with him, however, that night, and give him hot drinks from time to time. I paid the physician and the watchman for their trouble and dismissed them.

It was understood that Mr. Helger’s death had been very sudden, and it turned out that instead of really dying, he had only fallen into a deep trance, and on arousing from it had frightened us so dreadfully. We were all put in excellent spirits by this happy termination of our adventure—this restoration of the dead to life.

“Supposing you let us hear the rest of your ghost story now, Mrs. Johnstone,” said one of the ladies—“if that awful interruption hasn’t taken away all your desire to finish it.”

“Oh, no,” replied Mrs. Johnstone, “I will tell you the rest with much pleasure—perhaps it may turn out as well as our present adventure has.

“I believe I left off where the knocking was again repeated at the door. Well—the mysterious door again opened, but nobody was there. I felt desperate. I felt that my reason would give way if I should remain quiet any longer without doing something, and I determined that, if the knocking was repeated, I would take my child in my arms and run round the house, and see if any thing was there which could have produced these unaccountable sounds. I waited patiently till the knocking was repeated, and then went out of doors and ran round the house. The mystery was solved.

“The sheep had come down from the woods, through fear of bears, and were collected in a crowd behind the house. I stood looking at them, and presently one raised his fore-leg and knocked against the house. It is done with the bent joint of the fore-leg, and those who are acquainted with the habits of sheep know that it produces a sound exactly like the knocking of a human being at a door. I went back into the house, and in a few moments I heard the sheep knock, and saw the door open a moment afterward. The house, built in a hurry, as is usual in a newly settled country, had not been clap-boarded, so that the jarring of the knock was easily communicated to the bed-room door, and the latch being worn, it opened a little way by its own weight, and then remained fixed.

“Thus was the mystery cleared up, and you may conceive what a load was taken off of my heart. I went to bed and slept soundly till morning, when the glorious sun with his cheerful beams effectually dispelled all the phantoms and terrors of the preceding night.

“Next day my husband returned home, and I related to him all the circumstances of my fright. He praised me for the courage I had shown in going out to investigate the cause of the sounds, and said that he thought that few men would have been as brave as I was. And sure enough, on the very next night, my husband and I were sitting in the parlor, when suddenly the man-servant, a great strapping fellow, came running in, as white as a sheet, and cried out,

“ ‘Oh, Lord! we’re haunted! we’re haunted! Charlotte’s ghost has come to haunt us!’

“ ‘What do you mean, you foolish fellow?’ said my husband, ‘go back into the kitchen, and don’t let me hear any more such nonsense.’

“He went back again, somewhat abashed, but soon returned, almost frightened to death.

“ ‘I wouldn’t go back into that room again if you’d give me fifty dollars,’ said he; ‘it’s haunted. There was a dreadful knocking, but nobody was at the door, and then I saw Charlotte’s ghost open the door of the bed-room. Oh, Lord! what will become of us! what will become of us!’

“My husband took pity on him, seeing that he was so much alarmed, and showed him the cause of the phenomena. He was very much ashamed of his fright, and we heard no more of Charlotte’s ghost after that.”

Here Mrs. Johnstone finished her story, which we all declared was an excellent one, and praised not a little the courage she had shown. By this time the morning had dawned;

“Aurora’s harbinger,

At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there,

Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all,

That in cross-ways and floods have burial,

Already to their wormy beds are gone.”