There was one fountain that I took to dretfully. A noble big vase bound with acanthus leaves, was a shootin’ up water, clear as a crystal, and at the foot of it on some rock work, sot three handsome childern jest ready to plunge down into the cool, wet water; one of ’em was blowin’ a shell, he felt so awful neat. There was lots of fountains in the Hall but none so uncommon handsome as this; and that noble fountain was the work of a woman; and as I looked at it, I thought I should be proud and happy to take her by the hand and say:
“Miss Foley, I too am a woman, I am proud to sympathize with you.”
A good lookin’ woman, dressed up slick, with a little book and pencil in her hand spoke up and says to me:
Says I, “Wonderful haint no name for it.”
“That’s so;” says she, and added, “have you seen the phantom leave?” or sunthin’ like that.
Says I, firmly, “There haint been no phantom here appearin’ to me, and how could I see it leave?” Then thinkin’ of my vow, and likin’ her looks first-rate, I says in a encouragin’ tone, “There has somebody been a tryin’ to fool you mom, there haint no such things as ghosts and phantom’ses. Ghosts and phantoms are made of moonshine, and fear and fancy are the makers of ’em.”
She took up her parasol—a pale blue one all covered with white lace—and pinted right up at a glass case, and says she:
“Phantom leaves I mean, you can see them.”
“Oh!” says I, “I thought you meant a ghost.” They was handsome; looked as white and delicate as the frost-work on our winders in December.
It wasn’t probable more’n half an hour after this that my pride had a fall. Truly, when we seem to be a standin’ up the straightest, tottlin’ may come onto us, and sudden crumplin’ of the spiritual knees. There I had been a boastin’ in my proud philosophical spirit that there was no such things as phantoms, and lo, and behold! within thirty-one minutes time, I thought I see a ghost appearin’ to me; I was skairt, and awe-stricken. The way on’t was, Josiah beset me to go into some of the different hot-houses in the buildin’, and I had told him firmly, that bein’ very fleshy and warm-blooded, I was satisfied and more’n satisfied with the heat of the place I was in; but if _he_ wasn’t—bein’ thinner in flesh, if he felt chilly, he could go and I would meet him in a certain place. So he went on, and I meandered back into the Main Hall. And there I stood a lookin’ peacefully up into the boughs of a Injy Rubber tree, and thinkin’ pensively to myself what fools anybody was to think that rubber-boots and shoes grew right out of the tree, for they didn’t—no such thing; they had green leaves like any tree—when all of a sudden I heerd these words: