A BED OF BOUGHS 



' fear-chill ' and the ' cold-chill ' creeping over me. 

 How far is it to the valley of the Neversink ? " 



"About three or four hours' march, the man 

 said." 



" I hope we have no haunted valleys to cross ? " 



" None," said I, " but we pass an old log cabin 

 about which there hangs a ghostly superstition. At 

 a certain hour in the night, during the time the bark 

 is loose on the hemlock, a female form is said to 

 steal from it and grope its way into the wilderness. 

 The tradition runs that her lover, who was a bark- 

 peeler and wielded the spud, was killed by his rival, 

 who felled a tree upon him while they were at 

 work. The girl, who helped her mother cook for the 

 ' hands,' was crazed by the shock, and that night stole 

 forth into the woods and was never seen or heard 

 of more. There are old hunters who aver that her 

 cry may still be heard at night at the head of the 

 valley whenever a tree falls in the stillness of the 

 forest." 



" Well, I heard a tree fall not ten minutes ago," 

 said Aaron; " a distant, rushing sound with a sub- 

 dued crash at the end of it, and the only answering 

 cry I heard was the shrill voice of the screech owl 

 off yonder against the mountain. But maybe it 

 was not an owl," said he after a moment; " let us 

 help the legend along by believing it was the voice 

 of the lost maiden." 



" By the way," continued he, " do you remember 

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