"That bowl of punch!" : what it did, and how it did it : six Christmas stories . red, in Carolina, the last penalty byLynch law, for having foully murdered his wife, under peculiarly atrociouscircumstances, but whether this was the Simon Pure or not, we have nomeans of ascertaining. Harold and Gertrude Loder were married, and now live at Milton Hall,while Mr. Loder, an inveterate old bachelor, resides at the rectory.# # * * * # At a fashionable southern watering-place, Mrs. Jacksons Boarding-House is known far and wide for the comfort of its interior and the kind 32 THAT BOWL OF PUNCH! ness an
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"That bowl of punch!" : what it did, and how it did it : six Christmas stories . red, in Carolina, the last penalty byLynch law, for having foully murdered his wife, under peculiarly atrociouscircumstances, but whether this was the Simon Pure or not, we have nomeans of ascertaining. Harold and Gertrude Loder were married, and now live at Milton Hall, while Mr. Loder, an inveterate old bachelor, resides at the rectory.# # * * * # At a fashionable southern watering-place, Mrs. Jacksons Boarding-House is known far and wide for the comfort of its interior and the kind 32 THAT BOWL OF PUNCH! ness and propriety of its landlady, and in the summer months the hall of theestablishment is sadly lumbered with diminutive spades and buckets andstraw hats, the property of certain little visitors, annually increasing innumber, who come under the charge of their nurse from Milton Hall. Now, said I, looking to my right-hand neighbour, Irving, it is yourturn. There needed no pressing, for the ice was broken, and he at once pro-ceeded with the adventure at the White House at Midnight.. IN THE WHITE HOUSE AT MIDNIGHT. I . Wg§ T one end of our village, down beside the brook, with seven gaunt poplar trees in front of it, stood the White House. It wasnt white ; it had been once, but now it wore a dingy, yellowy aspect, and towards the basement was green with wall-moss. Of course the walls were low and gloomy, and in the gardenthe rank and unhealthy grass and weeds had it all their ownway; of course the gates creaked when they were opened, andthe doors groaned when they were closed; for the White House was, according to well-authenticated topographical history, haunted. For years it had been untenanted, and after dusk any smock-frockdnative having to pass that way, hurried his pace, and nervously lookingover his shoulder, got out of the unhallowed locality as fast as his legswould carry him. Of course there had in by-gone days been a murder committed there, and popular prejudice lent such an