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Michael Bell
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Posted By Michael Bell

About 100 years ago there lived two families on the western slope of Pine Hill in Exeter. They were prosperous farmers for those days. Jonathan Brown and Ezekiel Nichols were the names of the fathers. Jonathan’s daughter, Mehitable, and Ezekiel’s son, Isaiah, fell in love with each other and were betrothed. Before they could get married, however, Mehitable died of consumption. It nearly broke Isaiah’s heart, and he, too, fell a victim of the disease.

One night, not long before his death, his mother heard a peculiar groan coming from his room, and what was her horror on entering to see Mehitable, who had turned vampire, sucking Isaiah’s blood. Caught red-handed, or rather red-mouthed, in the act, she could not deny it, but she gave the mother a half-piteous, half-reproachful look, and then went and sat on the mantlepiece. She said not a word, and when the mother came out of her swoon Mehitable had vanished.

But she staid long enough to settle once and forever the disputed question of the existence of vampires.

“You see,” said the Sodomite, “them two young folks had probably been kissing each other a good deal, and Isaiah caught the disease from his sweetheart. Contagion, they call it, don’t they?”

There was once a man named Godlove Arnold, who lived on the southern shore of Yawgoo pond in South Kingstown. He was a notorious skeptic in regard to vampires, but by and by his wife died of consumption. He and his spouse had not always been on the best of terms, and after her death, for which Godlove did not grieve too long, he began to look around for another partner.

But Mrs. Arnold became a vampire, and began to pay off some of her old scores against her recent husband. She made life a burden for the unhappy man. She was far more importunate as vampire than as wife.

She chased him one afternoon all the way to Bald hill, and finally he had to give in. They found his body about a week later on the hillside, and the expression on his face was something ghastly.

“Probably died of heart disease,” said the Sodomite, as he finished the story.

Over around Kettle hole and Goose Nest spring, in the Pork hill district of North Kingstown, there once lived a man by the name of Isaac Harvey. It was a good many years ago, and they say Ike died of consumption. Mrs. Harvey was rather glad of it, for he had seldom contributed anything but advice to her support. It was just like Ike to go into the vampire business after death, and to turn his attention to Mrs. Harvey.

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