Along toward midnight a peculiar light is seen at the foot of the island. It
has the appearance of a huge ball of fire, and is about the size and shape of an
ordinary barrel.
A few nights ago a party of young men from this place determined to visit the
island and fathom the mystery if possible. Equipped with revolvers, knives,
shotguns, and clubs, the party secured a boat and were soon cutting through the
water at a good speed for a point on the island near where the specter usually
made its appearance. Arriving at the landing place, the skiff was hauled up on
the shore
and the young men took up a position in a clump of trees close at hand to watch
and wait.
Suddenly the whole point of the island was illumined as a bright red object
rose apparently from the water and glided up into the air. Ascending probably to
a height of forty yards, the watchers saw the lurid ball fade away. The
investigating party had seen all they wanted. They made a mad rush for the boat,
but, just as they reached the place where it had been left, they were horrified
to see the little craft moving out on the water from the island. At first its
only occupant seemed to be the red ball of fire, but the next moment the
watchers saw the crimson object gradually take the form of a man, and they saw
him, too, dip the oars at regular intervals and pull a long, steady stroke. The
man's features were fully concealed by a wide-rimmed slouch hat, which was drawn
over his face. A peculiar light illumined the boat and the waters around it,
making the craft and its mysterious occupant perfectly discernible to the party
on the shore, who stood paralyzed with fear, unable to speak or move, their eyes
riveted by some mysterious influence they could not resist on the spectral
object before them.
The boat was now about in midstream, and suddenly the group of watchers saw
the skiff's occupant change again into the crimson ball. Then it slowly began to
move upward, and when it was about parallel with the tops of the trees on the
island it disappeared. Next instant the watchers looking across the river saw
nothing but the flickering lights in Hardin.
The cries of the crowd on the island awakened a sleeping fisherman on the
opposite side of the river, and he kindly pulled across and rescued the
ghost-seeking youths. The fiery spook, it is said, still makes its nightly trips
to Diamond Island, but no more investigating parties have ventured across to
solve the mystery.
It is said that some years ago a foul murder was committed on this island,
and by the superstitious the crimson object is believed to be the restless
spirit of the slain man.
THE GHOST'S FULL HOUSE
(N.Y. Sun, April 10, 1891)
The Bleecker street ghost drew as large a "house" last night as Barnum's
Circus or any of the theaters. There was a bigger crowd about "Cohnfeld's Folly"
than there was three weeks ago when the flames gutted the buildings from Mercer
to Greene streets and did damage away up in the millions. The wraith was not due
till midnight, but the street was packed with watchers as early as 9 o'clock.
The crowd was so dense that pedestrians with difficulty forced their way through
it and twice a squad of blue-coats descended on the mob and routed it. Five
minutes after the police had retired the street was as impassable as before.
In the midst of the ruins of the big fire a single wall towers away above the
surrounding brick partitions. It looks feeble and almost tottering and the
shop-keepers in the vicinity say that when there is a high wind it sways to and
fro and threatens to come down in a heap. After dark the outlines of the summit
of this wall are very indistinct. The detail of the wreck could not be made out
even in last night's bright starlight. There is a sheet of tin, however, on the
top of the wall, which was probably a cornice before the fire. Only one side of
it is attached to the brickwork, and when there is any wind it trembles in the
breeze and rattles with an uncertain sound. It may have been that the sheen of
the tin in the starlight or a windy night first suggested the idea of a ghost to
some weird imagination.
There is an old Frenchman living in the vicinity, however, who avers that
three nights ago he saw with his own eyes a lady in white standing out against
the darkened sky on the very summit of the tottering wall. Her long, flowing
robes fluttered in the breeze, and even while he watched there came a low,
wailing sound, and the wraith dissolved into air. He kept his eye fixed on the
spot for a full minute, but the vision did not reappear, and as he turned to
walk away he thought he heard groaning as of a lost spirit. The sound, he
says, made his blood run cold and kept him shivering the whole night
through.
The alleged appearance of the ghost has set the whole neighborhood a talking,
and some of the "old residenters" have recalled a murder which took place in the
vicinity many years ago, when A.T. Stewart lived there and the street was one of
the fashionable places of residence of the town. There was a wealthy old
gentleman of foreign birth who lived in the street and was quite a recluse. He
would pass the time of day with his neighbors when he met them in the street,
but he was never known to enter into conversation with any one. The blinds were
always drawn in his front windows, and at night there was not a ray of light to
be seen about the house. His only servants were a couple somewhat advanced in
years, who were as foreign and uncommunicative as himself. The master of the
house would be away for months at a time and the neighbors had all sorts of
theories as to his disappearances. Some thought he was engaged in unlawful
business, others suggested that his absence might be attributed to the
supernatural, but those who were less flighty concluded that he simply went off
on periodical visits to his native land.
On his return from one of these visits, however, the old gentleman brought
with him a beautiful young girl. She was little more than a child in appearance,
and had the soft eyes, olive complexion and lithe, graceful figure of a
Spaniard. She was never seen alive after she passed the shadow of the old man's
doorway. A few weeks later the old gentleman disappeared as mysteriously as if
he had been snatched up into the clouds. The old couple who kept his home walked
away one day and never returned. There was an investigation, and in a hole dug
in the cellar was found the body of the beautiful young girl. There were no
marks on her body, and it was supposed she had been smothered. The exact date of
this tragedy is not fixed. Inspector Byrnes says that if it ever occurred it was
before his time.
The ghost, if ghost there is, is undoubtedly the spirit of this unfortunate
and nameless young woman. A World reporter watched the Bleecker street
ruins with the crowd last night and was there at the midnight hour, but never a sign
of a ghost did he see. There were those in the crowd, nevertheless, who thought
or pretended to think that they did. Once there was a rattling sound in the
ruins, which caused a commotion among the lookers-on, but it was only because a
small boy had shied a brick at the old wall. The living spirits boomed the
liquor business in the saloons of the vicinity. A skull and cross-bones over one
of these bars was surmounted with the somewhat appropriate legend freshly
painted:
"In the midst of life we are in debt."
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