The Gilded Age...

What Dating Was Like In Victorian Times...

Victorian Opium Dens...

Historical Hair Growth Secrets (???)

The Myrtles: a plantation house in St. Francisville, Louisiana, ~ one the the most haunted houses in the United States...

Nineteeth century... The Myrtles Plantation was built in 1796 by General David Bradford on 600 acres (0.94 sq mi; 2.4 km2) in what was then part of Spanish West Florida and was named "Laurel Grove." Bradford lived there alone for several years, until President John Adams pardoned him for his role in the Pennsylvania Whiskey Rebellion in 1799. He then moved his wife Elizabeth and their five children to the plantation from Pennsylvania.[5] Upon Bradford's death in 1808, his widow Elizabeth continued running the plantation until 1817, when she handed the management to Clarke Woodruff, one of Bradford's former law students, who had married her daughter, Sara Mathilda. The Woodruffs had three children: Cornelia Gale, James, and Mary Octavia, before Sara Mathilda and two of her three children died in 1823 and 1824 of yellow fever. When Elizabeth Bradford died in 1831, Clarke Woodruff and his surviving daughter Mary Octavia moved to Covington, Louisiana, and left a caretaker to manage the plantation. In 1834, Woodruff sold the plantation, the land, and its slaves to Ruffin Gray Stirling. Stirling and his wife, Mary Catherine Cobb, undertook an extensive remodeling of the house, nearly doubling the size of the former building, and filling the house with imported furniture from Europe. It was during this time that the name was changed to "The Myrtles" after the crape myrtles that grew in the vicinity. Stirling died in 1854 and left the plantation to his wife. The Myrtles survived the American Civil War, though robbed of its fine furnishings and expensive accessories. In 1865, Mary Cobb Stirling hired William Drew Winter to help manage the plantation as her lawyer and agent. Winter was married to Stirling's daughter, Sarah, and they went on to have six children, one of whom (Kate Winter) died from typhoid at the age of three. The family fortune was lost in the aftermath of the war due to it being tied up in Confederate currency, and the Winters were forced to sell the plantation in 1868, but were able to buy it back two years later. In 1871, William Winter was killed on the porch of the house, possibly by a man named E.S. Webber. Sarah remained at the Myrtles with her mother and siblings until 1878, when she died. Mary Cobb Stirling died in 1880, and the plantation passed to her son Stephen. The plantation was heavily in debt, however, and Stephen sold it in 1886 to Oran D. Brooks, who in turn sold it in 1889. The plantation changed hands several times until 1891, when it was purchased by Harrison Milton Williams. >>> 20th century... In the early part of the 20th-century, the land surrounding the house was divided among the heirs of Harrison Milton Williams. In the 1950s, the house itself was sold to Marjorie Munsons. The plantation went through several more ownership changes in the 1970s before being bought by James and Frances Kermeen Myers who ran the plantation house as a bed and breakfast. The current owners, John and Teeta Moss, continue to open the house for tours and overnight guests. >>> 21st century... In August 2014, a fire occurred in the historical General's Store, located just 10 feet from the main house, causing substantial damage. The most severe damage was in an extension of the building constructed in 2008 leaving most of the original structure intact and luckily not harming the house at all. Listed on the National Register of Historic Places, the Myrtles Plantation continues to be a popular tourist attraction due to its association with paranormal activity, and has been featured in many books, magazines, newspapers and television shows. ~ From "Wikpedia".

Lillydale, New York, ~ a village of Victorian houses inhabited by psychic mediums...

Oh, ~ WOW!!!!!!!!...

Marguerite & Company: An Outrageous And Vile Tale Of Montmartre In The Early 1900s, ~ Part 2...

Now, the baker had a friend named Simon La Croix, which was probably not his real name. Simon was a wicked deceiver, into every sort of devilish and cruel mischief. If it could make a profit and was illegal he did it or was indirectly involved in it. Simon claimed to be a bookseller and a tutor of the highest quality. He specialized in hiring himself out to old, lonely, wealthy widowed or spinster heiresses with nubile grand daughters or great nieces who needed education in the literary arts. Uh-HUM!!!... Well, Simon loved the bakery's eclaires too. (All that creamy custard filling!) And, that's how he met dainty Marguerite on a cloudless afternoon in May. He asked her if she would like to join him for a stroll around Montmarte, and with a sweet, gap-toothed smile, she readily agreed, linking her arm in his. Paris was delightful that day. No summer heat, and the flower, novelty sellers and street artists were on the cobblestone streets. One especially charming man in his mid-sixties with a head of thick, wavy white hair and twinkling blue eyes offered the nice-looking couple tiny glasses of creme de menthe, which Simon jokingly paid for with a small gold coin. Marguerite's eyes lit up. She knew nothing about him, and she thought, ~ Ah, here's one I must get to know much better! Well, the day wore on and twilight came. The couple slipped into a quaint little inn. And, it seemed also natural for them to slip into bed. Simon aquitted himself marvelously and Marguerite showed her appreciation. They talked afterwards, until dawn. Then, they fell asleep in each others arms, sleeping until noon. Of course, they had told each other nothing but lies, lies, lies about their lives and experiences, as reprobates are apt to do when meeting new people.

Of course, all authors know, ~ no conflict means no story...

From"English Literature & Linguistics"...

"Annabel Lee" by Edgar Allan Poe It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee— With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we— Of many far wiser than we— And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea— In her tomb by the sounding sea.

From & related to "Gangs Of New York," with Leonardo Di Caprio, Claire Danes and Daniel Day Lewis as "The Butcher"... (I loved this movie!!!)

It was called the first detective story...

An Animated Biography Of Edgar Allen Poe...

What Birds Know...

From "Steampunk Lifestyle"...

From :Haunted Traditions," with James Meloy...