Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 19, Number 36, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 2 March 1889 — Page 7

THE MAIL 4

I Oh, what do tho hungry people think As

they

fook

walk in tho streets of the town atnigb!,

And the hearth (ires glimmer and gleam and bUok Through many a window warm and bright? '«abr they drift in the dusk like the fleets of foam

On the tossing waves of the turbulent sea. With never a haren and never a hor.ie— These luckless waifs of humanity.

And many a mansion, tall and fair. Is lifting its head to the wintry skies, Vblomom with all that fat rich and rare,

That wealth cac purchase or art devise And out through the portals come bursts of light And murmurs of music and laughter street— Ah, what do they say to the homeless wight

Who la wandering past with his weary feet?

Docs be ever think, when tho winds ore cold And the hunger causes a ceaseleai pain, And the storm is beating his garments old.

And chilling bis heart with its dull refrainDoes be ask bow it is that in many a life Tho roses are always in sweetest bloom. While his are the longings, tbo endless strife,

The days of sorrow, tho nights of gloom?

You say they ore idle and weak and bad—• That pity is wasted on such as they— Ab, many a vagrant, worn and sad,

Could tell you a tale if ho would today— A etory of failure, of hopes that flvl. Of toil and hardship and boundless woe— )f wrongs that embittered, of wounds that blod,

And dreams that were lost in the long ago. i? —Kelly Booth Simmons.

Wayne House.*

by Elizabeth Phlpps Train in Peterson's Magazine. The tale that I a in about to relate concerns apart of my life that I remember with the shuddering horror which poa8e88eH us when we recall and re-ex peri•once, in memory, a terrible soul-haunt-ing dream.

My husband was many years my senior—already a middle-aged man when

we were married—but so tender and tolerant of my whims and caprices, so ready to sympathize in all my youthful follies, that 1 never felt the difference in our age as a barrier In my pleasure and, In my sorrows, surely it was a rock of strength against which my weak childish heart could lean In security.

We lived in a thriving manufacturing town, where my husband had established .already a large and exceedinglyremunerative practice so that, at the time of our marriage, he was ablo to surround me with a considerable degree of luxury.

Our homo was beautiful, and, as the years passed on, and three lovely children came to grace it, I grew almost arrogant in my pride and happiness.

One afternoon, I had returned from paying around of visits, when my headnurse came to ine. "Mrs. Carteret," she isaid, in a grave tone, "would you be

leaned

to stop up to the nursery and ot Master Harold? He don't seem •quite himself, and I feel kind of worried about him."

I remember that I was singing the conclusion of an air I had caught from a street organ when she addressed me, and I finished It gayly w» I preceded her to the nursery, even repeating the refrain us I entered the room—so careless was I of any danger that oould threaten my darling. They were all grouped together in tho further end of the large apartment, and, near the window, sat the yoang under-nurse in her whlto cap and •apron, sewing. I can see the picture vividlv, even now, It is not strange. It was the last time my eyes ever gazed upon the world through that glamor of perfect unalloyed bllsa that had so long veiled them from all trouble.

Harold, the eldest, was lying on the floor his curly head supported by a pillow his eyes naif closod, and his manner quite listless and unlike its usual buoyance. By his side stood Rob, his boyish features dignified and absurdly matured by the addition of nurses spectaclos, peering gravely into his brother's languid face, and giving wise Hud careful direction, in a childish counterfeit of his father's tone, to little Marjorie, my three-year-old daughter, who, with sweet young eyes, half laughing, half serious, looked, in partial comprehension of the nature of the game, *rom one to the other of her brothers.

I saw at a glance that something serious ailed my boy, and had him carried to my own chamber, apart from the other children, and there put to bed. It needed, however, the grave startled look in ray husband's eyes, as they rested upon his oldest son, to awake my apprehencilons.

After

giving some directions, minute

and improssive, to nurse, ho beekoued be to a farthor window, took me tenderly in his arms, and gased pitying into my face. "Love," he said, "do you know what the lad's illness is?" "No," I replied, fighting against my vague foreboding-

produced—it

l.-i ,r-

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

WHAT DO THEY THINK*

"Paul! Paul!" I

heavy cold and

fever—nothing more, is It, I'aul? Tell me is it uothihg else." He shook his head and was about to iapeak, when suddenly there came a soft 'rushing sound, which I knew well—the pattering of small feet—and, forgetful of all olse iu my usual fear lest the swiftcoming heedless llttlo IbR* should trio over the few low steps that separated my dressing-room from my chamber, I called aloud, warnlugly, as was my custom: "Takecare! takocare!" Instantly, and before m.v husband could hush my voice,

I repeated tho words, for they had reached and disturbed the wandering brain of my boy. Raising himself in bed, he turned in my direction, and cried in a hoarse mufiled voice, horribly unlike bis usual clear tones: "Don't worry, mother dear. Were not coming—we're going out." ljet me not linger over this sad preface. It is enough to say that the relentless Axmel had, under the guise of diphtheria, entered our happy home, and. not contenting himself with one victim, had known no satiety until he had destroyed our entire flock.

Mv grief was thoroughly selfish and morbid I lost all interest in the affairs of life grew Irritable and so intensely nervous that the slightest unusual sound seemed a disturbance greater than I could boar. 1 caused the nurseiy to be closed, and everything pertalulng to my little ones to be dismwed of by others, grew to hate the house and neighborhood, so associated was it with my children's presence. Of my husband^s equal sorrow, so nobly and undemonstrativelv borne, I was utterly lncon*kier*te,and his life, at that time, could have been little short of martydom. Finally, at the end of his resources, tie prop iuid «m Abroad:and, as I r, re- __ arranged that a profession nd should assume his practice, and for a year we sought distraction In ccr-laol motion. Ala*' It was only

dlstrtu

Yet one good effect our journey had away, and, nervously excited,

physical exertion that might relieve the

mental pressure. I arose softly, donned he

"Louise,"

The employment of arranging our Lares and Penates in this abode so occupied me, mind and body, that, on its completion, I felt so much like my old self,, that I rdfearded the place as a means of salvation, and already felt a love for its quaint picturesque ugliness spring up within me. It was a great joy to me also to note the pleasure with which my husband regarded my altered demeanor, and the benefiolent eflect of healthy emplovinent had given me strength to subdue, in a measure, the hysterical melancholy which bad

had opened my eyea to the opened the door leading to the small

jnentBorrow had wrought Id my hu.- les^ .tip, pirin* Into I never shall forget the night we pas#- the blaftkness, was it ed in New York, prior to the day fixed that make me think I for our home-going. Its agony grew so iful sobbing

unendurable, that! felt a need for some this,

husband

my clothes and outergarments, and laid time, was

my hand upon the door-handle, to open nerves but J^cidem.that it quietly. Unhappily, it creaked in not long

turning, and, with a start, my husband

burst into an hysterical fit of weeping. ...

cannot go back there! Oh, God! what

So it was settled. My husband proposed that, in order to

f'lve

our new life a complete alteration rom the old existence, we should shun towns and establish .ourselves on the outskirts of some city, where, if patients sought him, he could attend ^heln. This we accordingly did, and were Soon settled in a rather lonely but beautiful rural neighborhood.

We had discovered a house that charmed us, both from its quaintness and the air of antiquity—an unusual property in our new land—which hung about it. It bore a certain neglected appearance, whioh we easily caused to be remedied, and was attractive to us for the very reason that it made it unwelcome to others: namely, its old-fashioned build, which was so unlike our late modern dwelling and the modish Queen-Anne mansious that were so rapidly springing into surprising and marvelously-decor-ated shapes all about us. It was a rambling wooden structure, built of solid beams and massive timbers, approached by a double stoop, nnd surrounded with gardens diversified by overgrown, weedencumbered, box-bordered paths. The interior of Wayne House—as it was called, from the name of the family who had built and long occupied it—was a series of inconvenient surprises, and there was only one point of resemblance in its whole structure to the once loved house in which I had spent no many happy years: this was In the situatiou of the room Paul and I had selected for our chamber. I was connected, as was my former bed-room, with a dress-ing-room which was roached by descending three steps the same short flight on the opposite side had, in our other house, led into a passage to my children's nursery: hore, it gave access to a small dark closet, from which a queer longdisused—and I should have supposed, useless—flight of steps led down into some remote region, which, for a long time, we did not investigate. The closet was kept locked, giving the room but one outlet—that through our chamber.

cried, "it is useless—I reminded me forcibly ol

shall I do?" standing by the mantel, looking sadly He knelt beside me and gathered me into the crackling fire, andlsawthat into his strong arms, stroking my head the same memory had occuredto him soothingly, as It lay on his breast, with bis large comfortable hand. "What is it, love?" he asked, gently, as one would coax a child. "You cannot go back to our home?" "Home! The word is a mockery. There is none for us! Oh, my children! my babies! Paul, I want them so I cannot live without them." "Ixiuise, would it be,a relief to you never again to go back to Elsboro? Shall we make anew home for ourselves in a new place? We can do so, my darling vou are voung yet and I am strong to consider our changed circumstances to begin again enough to beg.— "Paul, love, do you mean it? Could we do it?" I cried. "Certainly, he assented. Then compunction smote me. "But your practice," I exclaimed: "your splendid practice! You could not abandon that!" "Easily, dearest, he replied. "All the men women and children'In Elsboro are but shadows compared with my wife. For her happiness, I would willingly make a holocaust of the whole lot."

long dominated me.

Wo had entered our new homo in the spring, and by the autumn had become quite rooted in our transplantation. My husband's reputation had proceeded him and the hope that I had indulged of having him more constantly with me was frustrated by the many demands made upon his skill. I should have felt a regret that we had moved so far from tho cltv—as his absences were thus more prolonged—had It not been for the promise of a tender and ardently longed-for companionship which.ere another spring should bud, was to be granted me.

I was sitting over mv needlework one beautiful afternoon in late September. I had sewed steadily all day, and was a little wearv and drowsy in consequence. Indeed, I had lost my self once or twice in dreamland, which was, as evor, peopled bv my lost darlings, when suddenlv there came to my ears a soft, familiar, but long-unheard sound—the swift oncoming of small childish feet. Still half under the spell of my dreams, I started up and cried warnlngly:

Take care, dear ones! Take care!

ever, could I my overthrow. That oeculiar pattering rush of hurrving steps haunted me. So vivid and real had it been, that I could not believe it the imaginative re-creation of a dream and yet, well I knew that such it must have been. I tried to put Its memory from me, and had well-nigh succeeded, when, early one morning, before we had risen, 1 heard it again. I

before

'U—not hear

ing and, when we found ourselves upon the steamer that was to carry us home, the enforced idleness brought a renew*! of bitter memories, and my husband recognised that his attempt had failed

"TAKe care, aear wiest mivv was miserably clad in ancient and The sound instantly ceased, even as shrunken garments, and his whole apmv woids awoke me*to full conscious- pearance was wretchedly poor and unness, and for a few momenta I succumb- kempt. Straggling locks of yellowishto a fierce attack of my old grief, gray hair fell about his lean and pallid Determined that my husband should face and, as he attempted to address me not discover the traces I resolutely wash- his utterance was broken by a hollow ed them awav and went for along walk and racking cough. in the garden, which proved so 5tfectual "Madam," he said, raising his rusty a reinedv that he failed to find anything felt hat with a graceful though tremuamlss on his return. Not so easily, how- lous courtesy, "are you the present ownrid mysqlf of the cause of er of the Wayne House?"

-i

ne^_

mftnner

knpwing,t^

that^L

his alarmed at what

wasbewmlngaJarmwl at wiiat

considered^

my va^ry, and,_ for^a

e?Rbled

to quiet

after

awoke and discovered my absence. With with its cause. oHmmtifnl conn.tr.de, h. reached u,e, .nd gn-ped my

he cried, with great fear in and had gone to

his voice, "where are you going?" some alteration in our toilets for the ie back I suffered him to lead me back into the room, and, as I sank inertly intoacbalr, I

made him, if :not.share

superstition, at leas pa

evening. As we entered the room together, something—perhaps the gentle flame of the wood-tire on the hearth— reminded me forcibly of my children

shivered and glanced at Paul. He was

a recollection of the custom which used to prevail with us, when three little white-clad figures would rush jubilantly into our room, at this hour, to say their prayers at papa's knee, and scorch their pink toes by the ardent blaze.

The quicic tears sprang to my eyes, but, before they could fall, I noticed my husband give a violent start, and at the same instant came that strange wierd sound. So natural did it seem at this hour, and so absorbed had I been in reflections of the past, that I. did not pause

but again called involuntarily as often before: "Take care, sweethearts, take care!" For the first time in my life, I saw- my husband unnerved. Sinking into a chair .that stood close beside him, he covered his face jfith his hands, and his strong frame shook with unoontrolable emotion. Then it was that I learned how deep and undemonstrative his sorrow had bOeia., Allowed no vent, it had grooved fierce chau.nels in hib soul, which time and hope had not—as In my case—briged with new anticipations.

The next day, he returned earlier than usual from his visits, bringing with him a carpenter. Intuitively I understood his purpose in fetching him hither, and accompanied them upstairs toour dr^s-ing-room. The closet door, of which I have spoken, my husband unlocked, and the man made a thorough investigation as to its construction. "I see no loose boards or cracks here, Dr. Carteret," he said, at last. "Will you describe the noise again?"

Paul glanced at me apprehensively. I divined that he forbore putting its significance into words that should distress me, and was turning away when—patter, patter, patter, came a sound as of eager little feet approaching iu ardent impetuous haste. I started forward. •Take care—" I began, but did not finish the caution, for my husband's touch again awoke me to the futility of my words. Still holding me closely, he turned to the man, and, with great beads of perspiration standing on his forehead, said hurriedlj': "I need not describe the sound: you have heard it. Discover where it is."

The fellow, who appeared to be of more than ordinary Intelligence, looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Beg pardon, sir I have heard nothing."

My husband let his arm drop from about me. "Heard nothing?" he repeated. "Did you not hear a sound like—like—like the hurrying steps of little children."

The man snook his head. 4iNot I sin" s*' Paul gazed at him, with a strange suspicion dawning in his eyes. "Gooding, you stood between my wife and me. You heard her speak, did you not?"

Y©s sir." "Well, then, did you not hear any sound, just before?" "Nothing, sir."

My husband put his hand to

hiB

riiRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAm

fore

head with a gesture of despair, then he moved closer to Gooding and laid it heavily upon his shoulder. 'Think again, my good fellow," he said, urgently,' almost persuasively. "You must ha^e heard some sound, else you would have wondered that Mrs. Carteret should speak as she did." "I didn't notice what the lady said, sir, thinking she was speaking to you but I'm certain I heard no noise."

Paul drew a long breath, and tried to turn the subject by alluding to the staircase to which the closet gave access, and soon he and the carpenter were discussing its probable outlet. I was completely upset by the continued repetition of that inexplicible mystery, and, throwlug a shawl about me, descended to the garden, to try and regain, in the pure fresh air, the self-control which 1 felt slipping from me. But, try as I would, my thoughts lingered about the subject and that suggestion of a new and horrible idea, which I had read in Paul's eyes as the man disclaimed all comprehension of our agitation, recurred to my tortured mind. Was it possible that he feared that our brains bad become touched by trouble? I had read a shadow of the expression before, when I knew that he feared for my sanity: but, from the fact of our being the only listeners to that haunting and costantly recurring sound, did he argue that grief had affected us both

As I stioiled up and down, I was arrested, when near the garden-gate, by the sight of an uncouth figure leaning on the rustic bars. The man gazed at me wiith sombre mournful eyes. He

Lhusband

"I am

we naa risen, nemni ««. ngaiu. A I bowed my acknowledgment of his had just waked and mv husband was yet introduction and, compassionating the sleeping, when, from* the direction of ill-luck which h*d brought the former mv dressing-room, came that unmistak- owner of the property to this low estate, able sound. In the half-dazed condition I opened the gate and invited his enthat follows close upon long deep slum- trance, just as my husband issued from ber—the past was the preeent, interven- the house and approached us. I knew ing months had rolled away, and my of Paul's greatabhorence and impatience children, as was their wont, were rush- of beggars, and had not time to prevent Ing heedlessly from the nursery iu a the words which, as I expected, he greetmerry rivalry as to which should first ed me with. reach ma la's bed. "Louise dear," he exclaimed, as his "Take j! Take care, little ones!" I eyea feU upon the tatterdemalion, "I cried. words at once roused my hus- would not admit beggars." b&nd. As he spoke, my protege drew himself "What Is it, Louise?" he asked. He erect, ana I shuddered at the fierce malooked at me In surprise. "What ails lignancy of the glance he shot, from bevou, dear? You are pale as death and neath his overhanging yellowish-gray trembling like a leaf. To whom were eyebrows, at Paul. I hesitated to explain you UdIn love?** matters. "To out ^aildren. Paul. Did you not "Nay, Paul," I said "this Is a gentle-

Paul immediately held out his hand, in welcome to our unbidden guest. Like all great physicians, his heart was ever open to the appeals of real distress and misfortune, though intolerant of mendicancy and, when he heard from the unfortubate creature's lips the causes which had brought about hia present miserable condition, no prince in all his state could have received more courteous and sincere overtures of hospitality than did the forlorn wretch who had by his own telling been the buffet of fortune.

This was the tale he told us amid the shadows of the falling night, as we stood in the garden that had been his heritage: "My grandfather was an Englishman, who, marrying an American, conceded to her homesick fancies to the extent of banishing himself to a strange and uncongenial country. Here he built this house and became a large land owner, fashioning his life and that of his family on English models, among which, as you may naturally imagine, the law of primogeniture and entail held high rank. His will was drawn up in accordance with .these principles, a further extension of whiclrwas rigidly enjoined upon his heir. Thus it was that, when my father, his only child, died, leaving two sons, Eugene, the older, came in for everything, while to me, the unimportant Benjamin, was left a blessing and my mother's insignificant fortune. "My brother was already forty years of age, and, as be had remained thus far unmarried, there was every probability that he would die a bachelor. He was liberal to me—exceedingly so: let me do him that justice—and I confess that, being rather gay, I made considerable demand upon his generosity. Money, to me, was utterly valueless save for momentary gratification, and, feeling quite sure of my enheritanoe, I recklessly squandered what I could coax from him and made large drafts on future probabilities. Without vanity, I -may say that, being good-looking, witty and popular, I found easy means of involving myself in debt. "At last, I came to an end of my resources—credit failed and money-lenders looked shy at my security. I was meditating aclean confession of my liabilities to Eugene and an appeal to his mercy, when, one morning, a letter from him dashed my hopes to the ground. It announced his approaching marriage to a young And attractive girl, the daughter of his clergyman. "I can recall, as if but an hour had intervened, the crushing effect

?rlthesix

bought it about six

ling Mrs he asked,

suggestively "Mrs. Carteret," I supplied. "Thank you. -I am Philip Wayne. Mv fortunes, you see, are somewhat failen since I owned the house."

the sudden loss oi nis eldest child, a of six years. Eugene was very ill 'and unable to speak but he recognized me, I think. The physicians gave slight encouragement as to his recovery, and to me the whole household looked for directions. There never had been much love between my brother and myself and, naturally, I felt little actual grief at his condition—but I never wished him dead."

The speaker's voice sank here, sud I motioned to Paul to invite him into the house. This he did but the old man seemed not to hear him: he sat motionless on the garden-seat upon which be had sunk at the beginning of his recital, and, presently, he resumed in a low muttering tone, quite unlike his former speech, and so indistinct that we had to hold our breath to catch it. Heretofore, he had certainly been speaking to us, now he apparently addressed himself: "No, I never wished Eugene would die I rather hoped he'd live, because it seemed to me that his heart would be softened by illness and that he might help me again, recognising my devotion. But he did not—he died, and I was ap pointed administrator and guardian over property that ought to have been mine, and would have been but for an obsticle and it became mine When the obsticle was—died. Did you speak, madam?"

His manner and tone changed as ne asked the irrelevant question he had shaken off the dreamy haze that seemed to obscure us from him, and, at my ex clamation, was immediately alert and self-possessed* "No," I answered "I said nothing."

Neither bad I. The sound that had disturbed him bad been merely an audi ble involuntary shudder of distrust and repulsion evoked by the peculiar accent with which he spoke of "the obsticle. He seemed at a loss a» to where he had left off, and my husband supplied the cue "You mean the other child—the boy— died*"

The old man nodded and continued: "I, of course, then inherited the property but from the moment of my taking possession, things went wrong. I did not care to live in such a quiet place, and went abroad, entrusting my aftairs to an agent. 1 was absent five years, living luxuriously and getting all I could out of life. My dividends were paid regularly, with no abatement, and 1 congratulated myself on possessing a man so well qualified to manage and rid me of all care. Finally, I grew weary of travel, and decided no return to America. I notified my agent to expect me but, when I reached New York, I found that he had absconded with every cent of my property which he could realise. You may Imagine the shock this was to me. Nothing remained but my real estate little by little, I sold it, living upon the proceeds Until it was all gone. Then again poverty stared me in the face, and this time there was no escaping it.

I have sank, stink, until you now behold me, once your equal—and, perhaps, superior—in wealth, debased to the level of a pauper. Havel tried to work? Aye, have I—but to no purpose. Bred in idleness and luxury, Mid debilitated by indulgence, I have no strength to work. Often have I sought to end my weary existence but—God help

guest-chamber,

W UV OV A MV.TV. V., WW

that

blow. At last, I remembered my former plan. Why should I not carry it out even now? If I succeeded, it would at least be a temporary relief to my overwhelming embarrassments. By the next train, I was on my way hither. Before night. I had made a clean breast of my .condition to Eugene and, the next morning, I departed from Wayne House, with a check for fifty thousand dollars in my pocket and my brother's words ringing in my ears: 'Here is a free gift. On its inoome, you can live comfortably, if you choose to do so I make, however, no conditions

or suggestions as to its use, only remember that, having paid your debts twice and supported you entirely for ten years, it is the last ceut I shall ever, under any circumstances, give you.' "Time passed I paid part of my debts, dissipatea the sum Eugene gave me and acquired fresh liabilities. I seldom saw my brother, but heard from him at intervals I knew that his wife had died, after presenting him with two children •a boy and girl—two living obsticles to my inheritance. By this time, I was miserably poor, my friends had deserted me, and ruin stored me in the face. I waa beginning to see the folly of the life I had led, and to wish ardently for a chance to start afresh, when I received a telegram from my brother's steward, announcing that Eugene had been strloken with paralysis and desiring my immediate presence.' I went to his bankers and represented that I bad not sufficient money to defray my traveling-expenoes. This they supplied me, and, just about this hour in the evening, I entered that ate. I found that not only sickness, iut death, had been before me, my brother's seizure having beon occasioned sudden loss of his girl of years.

me!—even for that I lack sufficient courage. I feel that death is upon me all the length of m.v journey have I felt him pursuing me. But I have accomplished the end I had in view—to return once more to this house not from love of its associations, but because I felt that I must visit it once more. Now my tale is ended. Will you grant me shelter?"

My husband hesitated—the first time I had ever known him backward in yielding to the claims of hospitality stfll, I did not blame him. There was something eerie and repellant about the former master of Wayne House, that had developed with his story and made me feel that he Was An undesirable guest. Still a refusal would have been impossible under the circumstances, and Paul tried to make his welcome cordial. No half-measures were ever possible with him and so, that night, Philip Wayne round himself ensconced in our best

comfortably fed and'

prescribed for, eujoying a luxury to which be had longbeen unaccustomed. When we discussed our strange visitor that evening, Paul acknowledged that the old man had diagnosed his own case correctly his strength and vitality were spent, and he was rapidljT nearing his end. For some days he lingered, and we did all in our power to alleviate his condition. He was very grateful, and seemed to become quite attached to me. I found employment for all my spare time in ministering to him and was able to forget those weird, ghostly, apd inexplicable sounds which had disturbed my tranquility. There had been no recurrence of them since the day on which old Philip Wayne had beon discovered at our gate, ana my husband and I began to believe that, indeed, we had been laboring under a hallucination.

Our visitor had been with us about a week when, one afternoon, Paul, after making his usual professional visit to him, came to ine and said gently: "Louise dear, he seems very low I should not wonder if he passed away in the night, I think I will have Kelley sit up with him." 1 assented and it was arranged that our coachman should watch in an adjoining room, and be ready to call my husband In case of a change.

I was wakeful that night. At last I fell asleep, but my slumber was restless I would doze and wake again repeatedly, until, after many unsuccessful attempts, I finally fell into a heavy unconsciousness. It must havo beon about two o'clock when a familiar souud waked me. I had been dreaming that my little ones were with me.

I fancied that it was early morning— too early, I thought, for nurse to allow them to rise and, glanoing at their still sleeping father, I quietly slid from the bed to prevent their awaking him. Noiselessly I stole through the gloom, beckoned by the night-lamp that always stood in the dressing-room. I roached the door in a moment, with my usual warning yet unspoken on my Hps, when a sight met my eyes that paralyzed my utterance, save for a short sharp cry.

There before me, kneeling in front of the three steps leading to the closet, with his haggard countenance revealed by the faint rays of the lamp, was Philip Wayne, engaged in a most curious occupation. He was literally tearing the wood-work away with his long shriveled fingers. His back was to me, and so absorbed was he in his work that he failed to hear my cry. His ebbing strength must have flowed back in a superhuman tide, for he had already worked great havoc with the wooden steps. The carpet had been torn aside, ana the debris that surrounded the bent and quivering figuro showed that his energy had already accomplished much.

My husband, roused by the sharp sound of my voice, had stolen to my side, and together we watched in amazement the weird worker.

Finally there came a pause we moved a step forwarded, the better- to observe his movements.

All the planks had been removed, and now the man crouched low over something that we could not perceive: then we saw the white hands stretched forth until they caught and clung to the invisible object. As we watched with bated breath, suddenly, upou the still night air, there came a terrible sound, half-shriek, half-moan, a convulsive movement of the crouching figure, and the next moment my husband was sup porting the lifeless form of Philip Wayne.

Fearing lest painful associations should aggravate my malady, Paul had me cared at once to a hospital, and never

Jaynehave

ain I beheld or heard aught of House. A few explanations of thai terrible scene were given me. "Kellj acknowledged that, being unaccustomed to watching, he had faUen asleep.

Perfectly acquainted with the plan of the house, its former master had reached the dressing-room by means of the private staircase, which, Investigation [)roved, led to the lower hall, into which .ssue was obtained by means of a small door that was scarcely discernible in its obscure position under the staircase. He had Deen able easily to enter the room, as after the visit of the carpenter, Paul had neglected to relock the door. How the dying creature had managed to groupe his way through the dark passage is a mystery we shall never com

prehend—unlesswe

believe that remors»

for the terrible crime which he must have committed endowed him with supernatural strength, great enongh to support him until he should satisfy the craving to revisit the scene of his guilt.

I am now a happy woman. Children again gathered about our hearth-stone, and gladden our ears by the dearest of all titles but never have I beard the quick patter of their tiny footsteps with out a snudder, caused by a vivid

recol

lection of the echoes of Wayne House.

$500 offered for an Incurable case of Catarrh in the Head, by the manufacturers of Dr. Sage's Catarrh Remedy.

The Chicago clergyman who has championed the cause of anarchy from the pulpit is the Rev. Dr. Silence. This is clearly a case of misfit in names.

Deafness Can't be Cured

by local application, as they can not reach the diseased portion of the ear. There is only one way to cure Deafness, and that is by constitutional remedies. Deafness is caused by an inflamed condition of the mucus lining of the Eustachian Tube. When this tube gets inflamed you have a rumbling sound or imperfect hearing, and when it is entirely closed Deafness is the result, and unless the Inflammation can be taken out and this tube restored to its normal condition, bearing will be destroyed forever nine cases out of ten are caused by catarrh, which is nothing but an inflamed condition of the mucus surf sees.

We will give One Hundred Dollars for anv of Deafness (caused by Catarrh) thmt we cannot cure by taking Hall's Gatarrh Cum^^^Y Toledo, O. £*-Sold by Druggists, 75c. S4-4t. "v.'* '***'••"i'-c*

.1 -1

'!£T

•.

Our Little Son,

Four years old, afflicted with a painful skin disease. Six doctor** tried to cars hiiu all failed. Got worse and wnrxe.

Completely cured by one »et of Cutlcar* Remedies, oostlng $1.75.

Our little son will be four years of age on the 25th inst. In May, 1885, he was attacked with a very painful breaking out of the skin. We called in a physician who treated him for about four weeks. The child received little or no good from the treatment, as the breaking out, supposed by the physician to 'be hives in an aggravative form, became largei in blotches, and more and more distressing. We were frequently obliged to get up in the night and rub him with soda in water, strong linaments, etc. Finally, we called other physicians, until no less than six had attempted to cure him. all alike falling, and the child steadily getting worse, until about the 20th of last July, when we began to give himCuticura Resolvent, Internally and the t*ntlcura and Cuticura Soap externally,by the last of August- he was so nearly well that we give him only one dose of the Resolvent about every second day for about ten days longer, and he has never been troubled since with the horrible malady. In all we used less than one half of a bottle of Cuticura Resolvent, a little less than one box of Cuticura, and only one cake of Cuticura Soap.

H. E. RYAN, Cftyuga. Livingston Co., Ills. Subscribed and sworn to before mo this fourth day of January, 1887. C. N. CUE, J.

SCROFULOUS HUMORS,

Last spring I was very sick, being covered with some kind of Scrofula. The doctors copld not help me. I was advised to try Cuticura Resolvent. I did so, and in a day I grew better and better, until I am as well as ever. I thank yon for it very much, and like to have it told the public.

EDW. HOFMANN, North Attleboro, Mass

Cuticura, the great skin cure, and Cuticura Soap prepared from It, externally, and Cuticura Resolvent the new blood puritler, inters nally, are a positive cure for every form of skin and blood disease from pimples to scrofula.

Sold everywhere. Price, Cuticura, 60 cents Resolvent, tl.00 Soap, 25 cents. Prepared by the Potter Drug ana Chemical Co., Boston, Mass.

JtWSend for "How to Cure Skin Diseases." 64 pages, 50 illustrations, and 100 testimonials.

ninyQ Skin and Scalp preserved and beauDAD1 ij titled by Cuticura Medicated Soap.

Choking Catarrh.

Have you awakened from a disturbed sleep with all the horriblo sensations of an assassin clutching your throat and pressing the life-breath from your tightened chest? Have you noticed the languor and debility that succeed the effort to clear your throat and head of this catarrhal matter? What a depressing influence it exerts upon the mind, clouding tho memory and filling the head with pains and strange noises! How dilllcult it is to rid the nasal passages, throat and lungs of this poisonous mucus all can testify who are afflicted with catarrh. How difficult to protect the system against its further progress towards the lungs, liver and kidneys, all physicians will admit. It is aterrlble disease, and cries out for relief and cuio.

The remarkable curative powers, when all other remedies utterly fall, of Sanford's Radical Cure, are attested by thousands who gratefully recommend It to fellow-Buflferers. No statement is made that cannot bo substantiated by the most respectable and rellsr ble references.

Each packet contains one bottle of the Radical Cure, one box Catarrhal Solvent, and an Improved Inhaler, with treatise price. Si.

POTTBR DRUG & CHBMICAXI CO., BOSTON.

No Rheumatiz About Me. IN ONE MINUTE.

jBr

taneous.

The Cuticura Anti-Pain Plaster relieves Rheumatic, Sciatic, Sudden, Sharp and Nervous Pains. Strains, and Weaknesses. The nrst and only paiivkllllng plaster. Now, original, instan

Infallible, safe. A marvelous Anti

dote to Pain, Inflammation and Weakness. Utterly unlike and vastly superior to all other plasters. At all druggists, 26c Ave for 91.00 or postage freo, of rotter Drug and Chemical Co.. Boston, Mass.

Passages, Allay

Pain and Infli

matlon, Heals th

Sores, Restores th

Senses of Taste an 8mell,

I pressed forward in the casing of the lowest step lay a little dress, still retaining its shape and texture, while about it were strewn some tiny white bones. I remember only this the fainting-fit whioh followed ended in brain-fever, and when I recovered we had again become homeless.

CATARRH

ELY'S CREAM BALM

Cleanses the N

4MB

feSMR

Try the Cure.

A particle is ap plied Into each nostril and lsagreeable, Prta

agreeable, Price 60 cents at Druggists all, registered.<p></p>Tutt's

by mail,

60 cts. ELY BROtt, 66 Warren St.,<p></p>Pills

New York.

Tills popular remedy- never falls le effectually cure

Dyspepsia, Constipation, Sick Headache, Biliousness And all diseases arising from a Torpid Liver and Bad Digestion.

The natural result Is good appetite and solid flesh. Dom small elegantly ,|ar coated and easy to swallow.

BOLD EVERYWHERE^ BRADFIELP'S

FEMALE

MONTHLY SICKNESS.

Yf tMSt^SJlSKWQ OklKKGE. W IAYR

jBooie'To

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Hold by J. E. aOMEf,cy.6th and Ohio.

OTHER.

tUBG» CT10BT ALLDRUGGIST3 25 CTS. MOTTLE im

co 3

mmm