The sociable ghost Being the adventures of a reporter who was invited by the sociable ghost to a grand banquet, ball, and convention under the ground of old Trinity churchyard. A true tale of the things he saw and did not see while he was not there.

Above, the festoons of the incandescent lights in the form of flowers shed their soft radiance, and also such perfume as would naturally exhale from such blossoms. All was a pleasure to the eye and taste. While the young man was standing at the head of the central table there came the sound of a silvery note of music, such as might come from some sort of a horn, but wonderfully sweet and clear. It appeared that this was the signal for all the ghosts to take their places at the table. In an amazingly short time they were seated. The reporter found that he had not been included in the list of the guests at the banquet. He felt a little vexed, though he really did not feel hungry, and he had an idea that he did not want to eat with the ghosts. He remembered a poem that he had read somewhere about ghosts drinking out of skulls newly torn from the grave, and he smiled at the contrast of these magnificent tables and viands. The company was seated much as they would be at any other banquet, only there were no waiters. Everyone was seated and they all waited on themselves and each other, for, as he learned later the grave, like love, levels all things. And this in spite of the class distinctions mentioned before. The ghosts were placed so that there was a lady and gentleman ghost side by side. The gentlemen were as punctiliously polite as could be desired and served the ladies with the greatest attention and assiduity. At this juncture the Sociable Ghost came puffing up, much exercised, and said: “My dear sir, I beg you to pardon my apparent neglect, but the fact is there was a scrap between two famous old prize fighters, and you must excuse me if I forgot everything else for the moment. Why, for a time I really forgot that I was dead.” The young man murmured that he was quite excusable, and was about to disclaim any appetite, when the Sociable Ghost continued: “I say! It was fine! The old fellow put the kid to sleep in about ten minutes. We had a chance to learn more about good sparring than we ever knew before. I am sure that I could give an uppercut now such as was never known in my day. “But, you really must join us. I had a seat reserved for you at this table where you can see everything that is going on, and where you will have a chance to learn many things of which you never heard. Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to introduce a friend of mine, who is not yet of us, but whom I have invited to pass the evening with us. I hope you will make him welcome for my sake until you learn to like him for his own.” There was a confused murmur intended as a welcome accompanied with bows from all the guests at this table. The newspaper man saw that all these ghosts were really hungry, and ate with genuine appetite. The wine was poured out in generous quantities, and they drank as if exceedingly thirsty, and soon the great hall rang with laughter, and lively sallies of wit and anecdote. He tried so hard to listen to them all that to his intense chagrin he found afterward that he could not remember half of it and what he did recollect was so disjointed that it was worse than none. The ghost seemed to think it a great joke that one not dead should be among them, and many witticisms were launched at him on account of his too evident curiosity. The good-natured ghost told him that he probably would not get much nourishment out of what they gave him, and that he was very sorry that he could not offer him something to take home to the children, as was the custom when he was young. He told how he cried when his parents went anywhere and failed to bring him home some of the good things they had had at the party. The young man answered in the same strain and said that he was not hungry, and even if he were the feast of reason and flow of soul would more than satisfy him. While the guests were eating, the young stranger within their gates was observing with great interest everything about him. There was quite as wide a difference in the way the ghosts acted as among the living, and he saw some shoveling the food into their fleshless jaws with knives. He remarked that some who ate with their knives tried to give something of grace to the movement by turning the blade outward, and these ghosts held their spoons with the points to the mouths and to render this more elegant they stuck one little finger out stiffly, while grasping the handle in their bony fingers. “But you must join us” One man poured his coffee into his saucer, when the great leader ventured to remind him that in polite society people drank their coffee from the cups, whereupon the offender asked him with some warmth if he set himself up to be better than George Washington, and assured him that the Father of his country poured his coffee and tea out into his saucer, and he suggested that the leader go back to his beautiful society, and see if they did not do things that no self-respecting ghost would do, or even dream of condescending to do. Then the other ghosts took it up and the feeling ran so high that it almost resulted in throwing the leader from the place. Then one peace-loving ghost stood up and said: “My friends, it ill becomes us to quarrel over a matter of such little importance. Not all of us were born in the time of ultra-civilization. Most of us never saw a four-tined fork while alive, and so we were obliged to convey our food to our mouths with our knives. I do not believe it a capital sin. I well remember that I was once at a dinner where there were several clergymen and great men from various walks of life. This very gentleman's grandfather, who now objects to the use of a saucer, used a knife. I know, for in listening to something that was said he forgot and put it into his mouth. The sharp edge was toward his mouth and he cut his lip quite badly and made it bleed. Everybody used their knives then. Tea plates were considered part of every table service from the highest down, and they were set on the table to stand the cups in while the tea or coffee was in the saucer to cool before being drunk. It is good manners for half the world to eat with the fingers, and I cannot see how any person has a right to dictate what anyone shall or shall not do.” The leader stood up and angrily said: “Of what use is our boasted civilization if we are to live like the beasts of the field?” “Some of us here doubtless wish that we had lived like the beasts of the field while they had the chance and failed to do so,” replied the former speaker. “Honestly, sir; is there anything you can bring forward to prove that the 'beasts of the field' ever did anything wicked that you can bring against them now? If you do you are wiser than I, and I assure you that I would rather be the most wretched little yellow dog that I know of than be some of the men who hold such exaggerated opinions of their own importance. Such men should have several billions of years allotted to them in which to learn that they knew nothing worth knowing.” The leader was so angry that he simply could not find words to reply. He glared at the speaker with such haughty and malevolent disdain, that one might have thought that this was some great social function above ground and that he was squelching some upstart with nothing but his millions to recommend him. He stared until the old ghost who had been trying to act as moderator began to show symptoms of a disposition to arise in his might and wipe up the floor with the great little man, so he haughtily turned away. As soon as this little diversion had passed off, the eating which had been suspended was now renewed with fervor. New beakers of wine were poured out, and drank with gusto. The noise of the fleshless jaws clapping together as they ate was like the patter of hailstones on the roof. It became so loud and insistent that the newspaper man grew so nervous that he could have screamed like a hysterical woman, but he set his teeth and kept quiet. He desired to enter into conversation with some of the ghosts, as there were many questions—important ones still unanswered. To that end he addressed himself to the old lady who had been trying to learn poker. He asked her if she would have some more wine, but she said: “No, I thank you, sir; but I should like some of that boned turkey. I always liked turkey, and folks that ever eat of my turkey—roast turkey—for that is how I think a turkey should always be cooked—not that some other ways aren't good for a change that is. I was called a good cook and housekeeper in my day, and it has been my worst trial to see the awful messes my family has had to put up with since I am gone. And, the awful waste, and the dirt in my house. I used to keep them all on pins and needles all the time for fear of dirt, or that a fly would be let in. I never gave one of them a minute's peace. I thought I was doing a notable thing, then, but since I have had time to think it over it has come to me that I might have been a little less exacting. If I had been perhaps my boys would have stayed with me, but they couldn't stand so much nagging. Well, my poor old husband has got the dyspepsia trying to eat such cooking as he has to put up with now. And down here I naturally don't have a chance to cook. I think I could feel reconciled to being dead if I could only cook a meal of victuals once in a while.” “I don’t ever want to cook, and I'd go plumb crazy distracted if I had to,” said another woman ghost. “I had to cook for my father, five brothers, and all the farm hands, and every one of them with different tastes, and none of them ever satisfied. I nearly died trying to please them all. I used to get so tired that I wanted to die long before I did. Then a man asked me to marry him, and I thought it would be easier to please one man alone than all the sixteen, and I took him. You ought to have seen the way my folks went on! You just ought to have seen it! You would think I had committed an unpardonable sin, but it was done and I must confess that I am glad at the way they have to live now. Father hired many housekeepers, one after another, and when he found one that could really cook he married her. As soon as she was mistress she wouldn't lift her hand to cook a meal, and my brothers all died. Some of them have told me when they saw me here that they were awful sorry, and wished they could undo it all. But, my husband was worse than all the others combined. I just couldn't tell all he made me suffer. At last I gave up and died in self-preservation. I died to get out of the eternal kitchen.” “Why, Martha,” said another ghost, “I never knew it was so bad as that. I always thought you cooked because you liked it and was too proud of your faculty to ever let anyone take your place.” “Well, I didn’t; but I hated worse than all that anyone should know how bad I did hate it. I reckon if we knew all that goes on in our neighbor’s hearts we would have a little more charity. You used to say that I neglected my church duties, and didn't sew for the heathen, and many a tract you left me on the sin of idleness, me what had been up every morning for ten years at four o’clock, and never got to bed till ten and eleven, working every minute all the time. Sometimes I felt like telling you to mind your own business. It is all over now, but I should like to know how much good has all your sewing for the heathen done you towards getting your passport? As you know the truth now, Melissy, which would you rather be: the enlightened Christian with the responsibility of knowledge of good and evil, or the ignorant heathen?” “Yes: I know now, Martha, but I did not then, and now, if it is not too late, I want to ask your forgiveness.” This last was said with an evident disposition on the part of “Melissy”