Ghost-Story Party.
There is no more grewsome and unique kind of party than a Ghost-Story Party. To make such a party successful limit your guests to twelve—six men and six women—and request each one to come prepared to do his part in story-telling. The one that gives the most awful story wins a prize. Each story-teller should aim to make his listeners believe the thing occurred to him. The following stories are suggestive of the kind of stories one may tell.
THAT GHOST.
By Anna E. Dickinson.
One evening not many years ago I visited a friend who resided in a so-called haunted house. Just before retiring my hostess called my attention to the fact that I was to occupy the room in which the most awful sounds of the night were heard. As I was neither superstitious nor timid, I told her I was willing to give the ghosts a trial, and shortly I retired to my room.
The room was a delightful old-fashioned apartment, the open fire, and huge chintz-covered easy chair inviting—I said I wouldn't—yet even while I said so, sat down to read.
I read and the hours wore on.
The book was not cheerful, far from it, but it was fascinating—Bulwer's "Strange Story"—and as the night waned there was something more than the sinking fire to account for the chill that insidiously crept over me.
I could hear the striking of the bell at the town hall. Two o'clock. It did sound preternaturally clear and loud. I paused in my reading to listen. Could the unhappy souls that so many years ago were untimely sped into eternity yet wander about these old haunts of earth to disturb the descendants of their merciless executioners? I pondered the thought and, still pondering, put down the book with its weird char-
