August 22, 2025 • 12 mins
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
The parlor car Ghost buy W Bob Holland, all draped
with blue denim, the seaside cottage of my friend Sarah Pine.
She asked me to go there with her when she
opened it, to have it set in order for the summer.
She confessed that she felt a trifle nervous at the
idea of entering it alone. And I am always ready
(00:24):
for an excursion. So much blue denim rather surprise me,
because blue is not complimentary to Sarah's complexion. She always
wears some shade of red by preference, she perceived, my
wonder she is very near sighted and therefore sees everything
by some sort of sixth sense. You do not like
(00:45):
my portieres and curtains and table covers, she said, neither
do I. But I did it to accommodate, and now
he rests well in his grave. I hope who's grave?
For pity's sake, mister J. Billington prices? And who is he?
He doesn't sound interesting, then I will tell you about him,
(01:08):
said Sarah, taking a seat directly in front of one
of those curtains. Last autumn, I was leaving this place
for New York, traveling on the Fast Express train, known
as the Flying Yankee. Of course, I thought of the
flying Dutchman and Wagner's musical setting of the Uncanny Legend,
(01:30):
and how different things were these days of steam, etc.
Then I looked out of the window at the landscape,
the horizon that seemed to wheel in a great curve
as the train sped on. Every now and then I
had an impression at the tail of the eye that
a man was sitting in a chair three or four
numbers in front of me, on the opposite side of
(01:52):
the car. Each time that I saw this shape, I
looked at the chair and ascertained that it was unoccupied.
But it was an odd trick of vision. I raised
my lorn yete and the chair showed emptier than before.
There was nobody in it, certainly, But the more I
(02:12):
knew that it was vacant, the more plainly I saw
the man always with the corner of my eye. It
made me nervous. When passengers entered the car, I dread,
at least they might take that seat. What would happen
if they should? A bag was put in the chair
That made me more comfortable. The bag was removed at
(02:35):
the next station. Then a baby was placed in the seat.
It began to laugh, as though somebody had gently tickled it.
There was something odd about that chair. Thirteen was its number.
When I looked away from it, the impression was strong
upon me that some person sitting there was watching. Really,
(02:59):
it would not due to humor such fancies, So I
touched the electric button, asked the porter to bring me
a table, and, taking from my bag a pack of cards,
proceeded to divert myself with a game of patience. I
was puzzling where to put a seven of spades? Where
(03:22):
can it go? I murmured to myself. A voice behind
me prompted, play the four of diamonds on the five
and you can do it. I started. The only occupants
of the car besides me were a bridal couple, a
mother of three children, and a typical preacher of one
(03:43):
of the straightest sex, who had spoken, play up the four.
Madam repeated this voice. I looked fearful over my shoulder.
At first I saw a bluish cloud, like cigar smoke,
but an odorous. Then the vision cleared and I saw
(04:04):
a young man who I knew by a subtle intuition
to be the occupant seen and not seen of chair
number thirteen. Evidently he was a traveling salesman and a ghost.
Of course, a drummer's ghost sounds ridiculous they're so extremely alive,
(04:29):
or else you would expect a dead drummer to be
particularly dead and not walk. This was the most commonplace
looking ghost, cordial, pushing business like. At the same time,
his face had an expression of utter despair and horror,
which made him still more preposterous. Of course, it is
(04:52):
not nice to let a stranger speak to one, even
on so impersonal a topic as a four of die.
But a ghost, there can't be any rule of etiquette
about talking with a ghost, My dear, it was dreadful
that forward creature showed me how to play all the cards,
(05:15):
and then begged me to lay them out again and
order that he might give me some clever points. I
was too much amazed to be disturbed to speak. I
could only place the cards at his suggestion. This I
did so as not to appear to be listening to
the empty air and be supposed to be a crazy woman. Presently,
(05:40):
the ghost spoke again and told me his story, Madam.
He said, I've been riding back and forth on this car.
Ever since February twenty second, eighteen ninety seven months and
seven days. All this time I have none exchanged a
(06:01):
word with anyone for a drummer. That is pretty hard.
You may believe you know the story of the flying Dutchman. Well,
that is very nearly my case. It curses upon me
and will not be removed. And tell some kind soul.
But I'm going ahead of my next text. That day
(06:26):
there were four of us traveling for different houses. One
of the boys was in wool, one in baking powder,
one in boots and shoes, and myself in cotton goods.
We met on the road, took seats together, and fell
into talking shop. Those fellows told big lies about their sales.
(06:48):
Washington's birthday. I thought it was the baking powder man
raised the amount of the bills of goods which he
had sold better than the whole can of stuff could
have done. I admitted the straight truth that I had
not yet been able to make a sail. And then
I swore, not in a light minded chipper style of
(07:11):
verbal trimmings, but a great round heaven defying oath, that
I would sell a case of blue denims on that
trip if it took me forever. We became dry with talk,
and when the train stopped at Rivermouth, we went out
to have some beer. It was good there, you know.
(07:33):
Pardon me, I forgot that I was speaking to a lady. Well,
we had to run to get aboard. I missed my footing,
fell under the wheels, and the next thing that I knew,
they were holding an inquest over my remains. While I, disembowed,
was sitting on the corner of the undertaker's table, wondering
(07:56):
which of the corner's jury was likely to want a
case of blue denims. Then I remembered my wicked oath
and understood that I was a soul doomed to wander
until I could succeed in selling that bill of goods.
I spoke once or twice, offering the denims undervalue, but
(08:18):
nobody noticed me. Verdict accidental death, negligence of deceased Railroad
Corporation not to blame. To cease Scott out for beer
at own risk. The other drummers took charge of the
remains and wrote a beautiful letter to my relatives about
(08:39):
my social qualities and my impressive conversation. I wish that
it had been less impressive that time. I might have
lied about my sales, or I might have said that
I hoped for better luck, but after the oath there
was nothing for it. Back and forth, back and forth
on this road in chair number thirteen, to all eternity.
(09:04):
Nobody suspects my presence. They sit on my knees. I'm
playing in luck when it is a nice baby, as
it was this afternoon. They pile raps, bags, even railroad
literature on me. They play cards under my nose, and
what duffers some of them? Are? You, madam? Are the
(09:25):
first person who has perceived me, and therefore I ventured
to speak to you, meaning no offense. I can see
that you are sorry for me. Now, if you recall
the story of the flying Dutchman, he was saved by
charity of a good woman. In fact, Santa married him.
Now I'm not asking anything of that size. I see
(09:48):
that you wear a wedding ring, and no doubt you
make some man's happiness. I wasn't a marrying man myself,
and naturally I am not a marrying ghost, and that
has nothing to do with the matter anyways. But if
you could, I don't suppose you would have any use
(10:11):
for them. But if you were disposed to do a
turn of good, solid Christian charity, I should be everlasting grateful.
And you may have this case of denims at seventy
two dollars and fifty cents, and that quantity is quoted
(10:33):
to day at eighty dollars. Does it go, madam? The
speech of the poor ghost was not very eloquent, but
his eyes had an intense, eager glare, which was terrible
something pity, fear. I do not know what compelled me.
I decided to do without that white and gold evening cloak. Instead.
(10:57):
I gave seventy two fifty to two the ghost and
took from him a receipt for the sum, signed J.
Billington Price. Then he smiled, contently, thanked me with emotion,
and returned to chair number thirteen several times on the journey,
although I did not perceive him again. I felt dazed.
(11:21):
When the train arrived at New York, and I, with
other passengers dismounted. It seemed to me that a strong
hand passed under my elbow, steadying me down the steps.
As I walked the length of the station, My bag,
not heavy at any time, appeared to become weightless. I
believe that the parlor car ghost walked beside me, carrying
(11:45):
the bag, whose handle still remained in my other hand. Indeed,
once or twice I thought I felt the touch of
cold fingers against mine. Since then, I have no reason
to suppose that the poor ghost is not rest I
hope he is. But I never expected nor wished for
the blue denims. The next day, however, a dre belonging
(12:09):
to a great warehouse backed up to the door and
delivered a case of denims with a receded bill for
the sale. What was I to do? I could not
go about selling blue denims. I could not give them
away without exciting comment. So I furnished the cottage with them.
(12:29):
And you know the effect on my complexion. Pity me, dear,
and credit me, frivolous woman, as I am, with having
saved a soul at the expense of my own vanity.
My story is told. What do you think about it?
End of the Parlor Card Ghost
The parlor car Ghost buy W Bob Holland, all draped
with blue denim, the seaside cottage of my friend Sarah Pine.
She asked me to go there with her when she
opened it, to have it set in order for the summer.
She confessed that she felt a trifle nervous at the
idea of entering it alone. And I am always ready
(00:24):
for an excursion. So much blue denim rather surprise me,
because blue is not complimentary to Sarah's complexion. She always
wears some shade of red by preference, she perceived, my
wonder she is very near sighted and therefore sees everything
by some sort of sixth sense. You do not like
(00:45):
my portieres and curtains and table covers, she said, neither
do I. But I did it to accommodate, and now
he rests well in his grave. I hope who's grave?
For pity's sake, mister J. Billington prices? And who is he?
He doesn't sound interesting, then I will tell you about him,
(01:08):
said Sarah, taking a seat directly in front of one
of those curtains. Last autumn, I was leaving this place
for New York, traveling on the Fast Express train, known
as the Flying Yankee. Of course, I thought of the
flying Dutchman and Wagner's musical setting of the Uncanny Legend,
(01:30):
and how different things were these days of steam, etc.
Then I looked out of the window at the landscape,
the horizon that seemed to wheel in a great curve
as the train sped on. Every now and then I
had an impression at the tail of the eye that
a man was sitting in a chair three or four
numbers in front of me, on the opposite side of
(01:52):
the car. Each time that I saw this shape, I
looked at the chair and ascertained that it was unoccupied.
But it was an odd trick of vision. I raised
my lorn yete and the chair showed emptier than before.
There was nobody in it, certainly, But the more I
(02:12):
knew that it was vacant, the more plainly I saw
the man always with the corner of my eye. It
made me nervous. When passengers entered the car, I dread,
at least they might take that seat. What would happen
if they should? A bag was put in the chair
That made me more comfortable. The bag was removed at
(02:35):
the next station. Then a baby was placed in the seat.
It began to laugh, as though somebody had gently tickled it.
There was something odd about that chair. Thirteen was its number.
When I looked away from it, the impression was strong
upon me that some person sitting there was watching. Really,
(02:59):
it would not due to humor such fancies, So I
touched the electric button, asked the porter to bring me
a table, and, taking from my bag a pack of cards,
proceeded to divert myself with a game of patience. I
was puzzling where to put a seven of spades? Where
(03:22):
can it go? I murmured to myself. A voice behind
me prompted, play the four of diamonds on the five
and you can do it. I started. The only occupants
of the car besides me were a bridal couple, a
mother of three children, and a typical preacher of one
(03:43):
of the straightest sex, who had spoken, play up the four.
Madam repeated this voice. I looked fearful over my shoulder.
At first I saw a bluish cloud, like cigar smoke,
but an odorous. Then the vision cleared and I saw
(04:04):
a young man who I knew by a subtle intuition
to be the occupant seen and not seen of chair
number thirteen. Evidently he was a traveling salesman and a ghost.
Of course, a drummer's ghost sounds ridiculous they're so extremely alive,
(04:29):
or else you would expect a dead drummer to be
particularly dead and not walk. This was the most commonplace
looking ghost, cordial, pushing business like. At the same time,
his face had an expression of utter despair and horror,
which made him still more preposterous. Of course, it is
(04:52):
not nice to let a stranger speak to one, even
on so impersonal a topic as a four of die.
But a ghost, there can't be any rule of etiquette
about talking with a ghost, My dear, it was dreadful
that forward creature showed me how to play all the cards,
(05:15):
and then begged me to lay them out again and
order that he might give me some clever points. I
was too much amazed to be disturbed to speak. I
could only place the cards at his suggestion. This I
did so as not to appear to be listening to
the empty air and be supposed to be a crazy woman. Presently,
(05:40):
the ghost spoke again and told me his story, Madam.
He said, I've been riding back and forth on this car.
Ever since February twenty second, eighteen ninety seven months and
seven days. All this time I have none exchanged a
(06:01):
word with anyone for a drummer. That is pretty hard.
You may believe you know the story of the flying Dutchman. Well,
that is very nearly my case. It curses upon me
and will not be removed. And tell some kind soul.
But I'm going ahead of my next text. That day
(06:26):
there were four of us traveling for different houses. One
of the boys was in wool, one in baking powder,
one in boots and shoes, and myself in cotton goods.
We met on the road, took seats together, and fell
into talking shop. Those fellows told big lies about their sales.
(06:48):
Washington's birthday. I thought it was the baking powder man
raised the amount of the bills of goods which he
had sold better than the whole can of stuff could
have done. I admitted the straight truth that I had
not yet been able to make a sail. And then
I swore, not in a light minded chipper style of
(07:11):
verbal trimmings, but a great round heaven defying oath, that
I would sell a case of blue denims on that
trip if it took me forever. We became dry with talk,
and when the train stopped at Rivermouth, we went out
to have some beer. It was good there, you know.
(07:33):
Pardon me, I forgot that I was speaking to a lady. Well,
we had to run to get aboard. I missed my footing,
fell under the wheels, and the next thing that I knew,
they were holding an inquest over my remains. While I, disembowed,
was sitting on the corner of the undertaker's table, wondering
(07:56):
which of the corner's jury was likely to want a
case of blue denims. Then I remembered my wicked oath
and understood that I was a soul doomed to wander
until I could succeed in selling that bill of goods.
I spoke once or twice, offering the denims undervalue, but
(08:18):
nobody noticed me. Verdict accidental death, negligence of deceased Railroad
Corporation not to blame. To cease Scott out for beer
at own risk. The other drummers took charge of the
remains and wrote a beautiful letter to my relatives about
(08:39):
my social qualities and my impressive conversation. I wish that
it had been less impressive that time. I might have
lied about my sales, or I might have said that
I hoped for better luck, but after the oath there
was nothing for it. Back and forth, back and forth
on this road in chair number thirteen, to all eternity.
(09:04):
Nobody suspects my presence. They sit on my knees. I'm
playing in luck when it is a nice baby, as
it was this afternoon. They pile raps, bags, even railroad
literature on me. They play cards under my nose, and
what duffers some of them? Are? You, madam? Are the
(09:25):
first person who has perceived me, and therefore I ventured
to speak to you, meaning no offense. I can see
that you are sorry for me. Now, if you recall
the story of the flying Dutchman, he was saved by
charity of a good woman. In fact, Santa married him.
Now I'm not asking anything of that size. I see
(09:48):
that you wear a wedding ring, and no doubt you
make some man's happiness. I wasn't a marrying man myself,
and naturally I am not a marrying ghost, and that
has nothing to do with the matter anyways. But if
you could, I don't suppose you would have any use
(10:11):
for them. But if you were disposed to do a
turn of good, solid Christian charity, I should be everlasting grateful.
And you may have this case of denims at seventy
two dollars and fifty cents, and that quantity is quoted
(10:33):
to day at eighty dollars. Does it go, madam? The
speech of the poor ghost was not very eloquent, but
his eyes had an intense, eager glare, which was terrible
something pity, fear. I do not know what compelled me.
I decided to do without that white and gold evening cloak. Instead.
(10:57):
I gave seventy two fifty to two the ghost and
took from him a receipt for the sum, signed J.
Billington Price. Then he smiled, contently, thanked me with emotion,
and returned to chair number thirteen several times on the journey,
although I did not perceive him again. I felt dazed.
(11:21):
When the train arrived at New York, and I, with
other passengers dismounted. It seemed to me that a strong
hand passed under my elbow, steadying me down the steps.
As I walked the length of the station, My bag,
not heavy at any time, appeared to become weightless. I
believe that the parlor car ghost walked beside me, carrying
(11:45):
the bag, whose handle still remained in my other hand. Indeed,
once or twice I thought I felt the touch of
cold fingers against mine. Since then, I have no reason
to suppose that the poor ghost is not rest I
hope he is. But I never expected nor wished for
the blue denims. The next day, however, a dre belonging
(12:09):
to a great warehouse backed up to the door and
delivered a case of denims with a receded bill for
the sale. What was I to do? I could not
go about selling blue denims. I could not give them
away without exciting comment. So I furnished the cottage with them.
(12:29):
And you know the effect on my complexion. Pity me, dear,
and credit me, frivolous woman, as I am, with having
saved a soul at the expense of my own vanity.
My story is told. What do you think about it?
End of the Parlor Card Ghost
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