No great time was required for these singular facts to rouse the curiosity of the entire neighborhood.  By day and by night crowds of persons assembled at the Harding house “seeking a sign.”  It does not appear that any found it, yet so credible were the witnesses mentioned that none doubted the reality of the “manifestations” to which they testified.

By either a happy inspiration or some destructive design, it was one day proposed—­nobody appeared to know from whom the suggestion came--to dig up the vine, and after a good deal of debate this was done.  Nothing was found but the root, yet nothing could have been more strange!

For five or six feet from the trunk, which had at the surface of the ground a diameter of several inches, it ran downward, single and straight, into a loose, friable earth; then it divided and subdivided into rootlets, fibers and filaments, most curiously interwoven.  When carefully freed from soil they showed a singular formation.  In their ramifications and doublings back upon themselves they made a compact network, having in size and shape an amazing resemblance to the human figure.  Head, trunk and limbs were there; even the fingers and toes were distinctly defined; and many professed to see in the distribution and arrangement of the fibers in the globular mass representing the head a grotesque suggestion of a face.  The figure was horizontal; the smaller roots had begun to unite at the breast.

In point of resemblance to the human form this image was imperfect.  At about ten inches from one of the knees, the cilia forming that leg had abruptly doubled backward and inward upon their course of growth.  The figure lacked the left foot.

There was but one inference—­the obvious one; but in the ensuing excitement as many courses of action were proposed as there were incapable counselors.  The matter was settled by the sheriff of the county, who as the lawful custodian of the abandoned estate ordered the root replaced and the excavation filled with the earth that had been removed.

Later inquiry brought out only one fact of relevancy and significance:  Mrs. Harding had never visited her relatives in Iowa, nor did they know that she was supposed to have done so.

Of Robert Harding and the rest of his family nothing is known.  The house retains its evil reputation, but the replanted vine is as orderly and well-behaved a vegetable as a nervous person could wish to sit under of a pleasant night, when the katydids grate out their immemorial revelation and the distant whippoorwill signifies his notion of what ought to be done about it.

AT OLD MAN ECKERT’S

Philip Eckert lived for many years in an old, weather-stained wooden house about three miles from the little town of Marion, in Vermont.  There must be quite a number of persons living who remember him, not unkindly, I trust, and know something of the story that I am about to tell.