It is, I confess, with considerable diffidence, that I approach the
strange narrative which I am about to relate. The events which I purpose
detailing are of so extraordinary a character that I am quite prepared
to meet with an unusual amount of incredulity and scorn. I accept all
such beforehand. I have, I trust, the literary courage to face unbelief.
I have, after mature consideration resolved to narrate, in as simple and
straightforward a manner as I can compass, some facts that passed under
my observation, in the month of July last, and which, in the annals of
the mysteries of physical science, are wholly unparalleled.
I live at No. ---- Twenty-sixth Street, in New York. The house is in some
respects a curious one. It has enjoyed for the last two years the
reputation of being haunted. It is a large and stately residence,
surrounded by what was once a garden, but which is now only a green
enclosure used for bleaching clothes. The dry basin of what has been a
fountain, and a few fruit trees ragged and unpruned, indicate that this
spot in past days was a pleasant, shady retreat, filled with fruits and
flowers and the sweet murmur of waters.
The house is very spacious. A hall of noble size leads to a large spiral
staircase winding through its center, while the various apartments are
of imposing dimensions. It was built some fifteen or twenty years since
by Mr. A----, the well-known New York merchant, who five years ago threw
the commercial world into convulsions by a stupendous bank fraud. Mr.
A----, as everyone knows, escaped to Europe, and died not long after, of
a broken heart. Almost immediately after the news of his decease reached
this country and was verified, the report spread in Twenty-sixth Street
that No. ---- was haunted. Legal measures had dispossessed the widow of
its former owner, and it was inhabited merely by a caretaker and his
wife, placed there by the house agent into whose hands it had passed for
the purposes of renting or sale. These people declared that they were
troubled with unnatural noises. Doors were opened without any visible
agency. The remnants of furniture scattered through the various rooms
were, during the night, piled one upon the other by unknown hands.
Invisible feet passed up and down the stairs in broad daylight,
accompanied by the rustle of unseen silk dresses, and the gliding of
viewless hands along the massive balusters. The caretaker and his wife
declared they would live there no longer. The house agent laughed,
dismissed them, and put others in their place. The noises and
supernatural manifestations continued. The neighborhood caught up the
story, and the house remained untenanted for three years. Several
persons negotiated for it; but, somehow, always before the bargain was
closed they heard the unpleasant rumors and declined to treat any
further.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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