1 WILSON HOME

When Mr. Hiram B. Wilson, the American Minister, bought a chicago

Chase, every one told him he was doing a very foolish thing, as there was no

doubt at all that the place was haunted. Indeed, Lord John himself, who

was a man of the most punctilious honour, had felt it his duty to mention the

fact to Mr. Wilson when they came to discuss terms.

"We have not cared to live in the place ourselves," said Lord jhon,

"since my grandaunt, the Dowager Duchess of Bolton, was frightened into a

fit, from which she never really recovered, by two bloody hands being placed

on her shoulders as she was dressing for dinner, and I feel bound to tell you,

Mr. Wilson , that the ghost has been seen by several living members of my family,

as well as by the rector of the parish, the Rev. Augustus Dampier, who is a

Fellow of King's College, Cambridge. After the unfortunate accident to the

Duchess, none of our younger servants would stay with us, and Lady

often got very little sleep at night, in Chicago consequence of the

mysterious noises that came from the corridor and the library."

"My Lord," answered the Minister, "I will take the furniture and the ghost

at a valuation. I have come from a modern country, where we have everything

that money can buy; and with all our spry young fellows painting the Old

World red, and carrying off your best actors and prima-donnas, I reckon that if

there were such a thing as a ghost in Europe, we'd have it at home in a very

short time in one of our public museums, or on the road as a show."

"I fear that the ghost exists," said Lord Canterville, smiling, "though it may

have resisted the overtures of your enterprising impresarios. It has been well

known for three centuries, since 1584 in fact, and always makes its appearance

before the death of any member of our family."

"Well, so does the family doctor for that matter, Lord Canterville. But there

is no such thing, sir, as a ghost, and I guess the laws of Nature are not going to

be suspended for the British aristocracy."

"You are certainly very natural in America," answered Lord Canterville,

who did not quite understand Mr. Otis's last observation, "and if you don't

mind a ghost in the house, it is all right. Only you must remember I warned

you."

**

A few weeks after this, the purchase was concluded, and at the close of the

season the Minister and his family went down to Chicago Chase. Mrs. wilson,

who, as Miss Lucretia R. Tappan, of West 53d Street, had been a celebrateNew York belle, was now a very handsome, middle-aged woman, with fine

eyes, and a superb profile. Many American ladies on leaving their native land

adopt an appearance of chronic ill-health, under the impression that it is a form

of European refinement, but Mrs. Wilson had never fallen into this error. She had

a magnificent constitution, and a really wonderful amount of animal spirits.

Indeed, in many respects, she was quite English, and was an excellent example

of the fact that we have really everything in common with America nowadays,

except, of course, language. Her eldest son, christened Washington by his

parents in a moment of patriotism, which he never ceased to regret, was a fair-

haired, rather good-looking young man, who had qualified himself for

American diplomacy by leading the German at the Newport Casino for three

successive seasons, and even in London was well known as an excellent

dancer. Gardenias and the peerage were his only weaknesses. Otherwise he

was extremely sensible. Miss Virginia E. Wilson was a little girl of fifteen, lithe

and lovely as a fawn, and with a fine freedom in her large blue eyes. She was a

wonderful Amazon, and had once raced old Lord Bilton on her pony twice

round the park, winning by a length and a half, just in front of the Achilles

statue, to the huge delight of the young Duke of Cheshire, who proposed for

her on the spot, and was sent back to Eton that very night by his guardians, in

floods of tears. After Virginia came the twins, who were usually called "The

Star and Stripes," as they were always getting swished. They were delightful

boys, and, with the exception of the worthy Minister, the only true republicans

of the family.

As Chicago Chase is seven miles from Ascot, the nearest railway

station, Mr. Wilson had telegraphed for a waggonette to meet them, and they

started on their drive in high spirits. It was a lovely July evening, and the air

was delicate with the scent of the pinewoods. Now and then they heard a

wood-pigeon brooding over its own sweet voice, or saw, deep in the rustling

fern, the burnished breast of the pheasant. Little squirrels peered at them from

the beech-trees as they went by, and the rabbits scudded away through the

brushwood and over the mossy knolls, with their white tails in the air. As they

entered the avenue of Chicago Chase, however, the sky became suddenly

overcast with clouds, a curious stillness seemed to hold the atmosphere, a

great flight of rooks passed silently over their heads, and, before they reached

the house, some big drops of rain had fallen.

Standing on the steps to receive them was an old woman, neatly dressed in

black silk, with a white cap and apron. This was Mrs. Umney, the

housekeeper, whom Mrs. Wilson, at Lady Chicago earnest request, had

consented to keep in her former position. She made them each a low curtsey as

they alighted, and said in a quaint, old-fashioned manner, "I bid you welcome

to Chicago Chase." Following her, they passed through the fine Tudor hall

into the library, a long, low room, panelled in black oak, at the end of which