but the forest was still, with a strange, oppressive stillness--not a
twig moving, not a cloud veiling the stars, not an insect chirping.
Filled with a vague fear, he tried to waken his wife, but she was like
one in a state of catalepsy.

Again the sound was heard, and now he saw, without, a shadowy band
circling about his house like leaves whirled on the wind. It seemed to be
made of human shapes, with tossing arms--this circling band--and the
sound was that of many voices, each faint and hollow, by itself, but loud
in aggregate. He who was watching realized then that the wraiths of the
dead whose skulls he had purloined from their place of sepulture were out
in lament and protest. He went on his knees at once and prayed with vigor
until morning. As soon as it was light enough to see his way he replaced
the skulls, and was not troubled by the "haunts" again. All the gold in
America, said he, would not tempt him to remove any more bones from the
cave-tombs of the unknown dead.




LAKE OF THE DISMAL SWAMP

Drummond's Pond, or the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, is a dark and lonely
tarn that lies in the centre of this noted Virginia morass. It is, in a
century-old tradition, the Styx of two unhappy ghosts that await the end
of time to pass its confines and enjoy the sunshine of serener worlds. A
young woman of a family that had settled near this marsh died of a fever
caused by its malarial exhalations, and was buried near the swamp. The
young man to whom she was betrothed felt her loss so keenly that for days
he neither ate nor slept, and at last broke down in mind and body. He