motes of tbe mtcibt 



this same evening, to see how far this bird of the 

 night figured in local folk-lore, but the old gray- 

 beard that I interviewed could tell me nothing 

 more than I have mentioned. Ignorant and 

 superstitious as he was, he told me a rambling 

 story of how an owl might have been the ghost of 

 an old farm-house, but was not. It ran thus: 

 Many years ago, there was a cold rain-storm in 

 June, and for comfort a fire was built on the open 

 hearth instead of in the air-tight stove that stood 

 before it. All went well until the night was well 

 advanced, when a struggle was heard and sup- 

 pressed cries, and after a brief silence, a shuffling 

 of feet, as if at the doorstep. The men went out 

 with a lantern, but no one was to be seen. The 

 windows were then searched, but there was no- 

 body near them. The older folks were becom- 

 ing unsettled. The matter was discussed in whis- 

 pers. Again and again the noises were heard, 

 and, at last, when everybody was roused to a high 

 pitch of excitement, the long stovepipe, heated by 

 the flames upon the hearth, parted at a joint, and 

 out flew a sooty and bedraggled little owl. No 

 one was superstitious then j but suppose the owl 

 had made its way back to the chimney, and by 

 that way escaped ; would not every person present 

 have had vague, uncanny feelings ? Would not 

 the house from that time have been haunted ? 

 " Folks may be right, but when I hear o' ghosts 

 and such like, somehow I call up always that little 

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