NEW ORLEANS REPUBLICAN — JUNE 28, 1874
Some time ago there was a terrible uproar in the cemeteries of Paris. Armed guards patroled them every night, endeavoring in vain to discover a mysterious being, always unseen, but whose passage left marks as fearful as they were extraordinary. The sanctity of the grave had been violated, and the bodies of the dead, strangely torn and disfigured, had been dragged some distance and left lying in the walks. Facts still more hideous, and which will not bear recital, filled with horror the keepers of the Cimetiere du Sud, on the mornings of the fifteenth of November and twelfth of December. The most incredible rumors were circulated in Paris. The legend went on magnifying as it was repeated, until it was shudderingly whispered by knowing ones that the cemeteries were haunted by a vampire, who dug up the dead at night, and feasted upon their decaying flesh.
Every means that could be suggested to increase vigilance and render it effective was tried. Policemen were added to the guards, and savage dogs let loose in the cemeteries every night. The men saw nothing: the dogs did not bark. Yet, one morning, eleven bodies were found to have been exhumed, cut to pieces, and scattered over a large area of ground—pieces of flesh being even found hanging—hideous trophies on the limbs of the trees. These monstrous doings now seemed confined to the Cimetiers Montpernasse. An infernal machine was then placed
