St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 17, Number 31, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 20 February 1892 — Page 2

—\‘_\“\‘“ A GARDEN TRILOLO’GY. BY MRS, JAMEs w, ROGERS, THE LILY, In a garcen 014, doserted, walled about, ang ivy-grown * Stood a statue, Once a fountain, whence the waters long had ] tiowas, * Bome nmaster-iianaq invoked the marble, .~ Chiseled ont, the\bas-relief; Left the Impress of his geniusg “i:.on.that Niohe of grief. At Noisome weuods, fierce, . Brisi:ling nettles all #thirst, the waters drank; Sode Rude Usurpers l Os the basin. where the liijos used to bank, f Quite departed was their scepter, ] - Save &remnant of their power, Straugfllv throned in lonely grandeur—- * One fair, Peerless lotus flower, THE BIRD, ' : 'Mid the £Yee sons i R

g Thsws e vODS Ovor~arching, Sang a bird the whole day long, Incense breathing Stoed the flower, listeni £ over to the song, A matin trilleq he, pired a vesper, Filled with melody the air— Lived soy love, and knew it rapture, Till an arrow found him there, From thelayches SBwooning dropped ke, all the melody a-husht; Di’opt nponr the Lotus’ botom, and the fragile blossom crushed. Dew-drops froni her heart distilling Falling balm-like on the wound, Called to life again the song bird, While her betals strewed the ground. : “t .- THE cup, e ngivifiod, : The bird Tookeq on: the' bruised, dismantieq stem; e Niobe's form Then perched him oy, ang moaned a requiem., All tonod.xnaw%iis Tapturous voice To notes of Plaintive woe — Love's lagt bequest, poured forth upon T'he (otus Iying low. ~An angel-wing Thom.;) petals stirred, their Pathos thrilled to 1 lisg; . Renewed tha cup, y A chelice pure. for sncrfflcial kiss, ' A bird sangon his threnody ; 5 A flower sighed—then smiled ; ‘The bitterness of death was not— o Thov TN orank el s PERWAK

s s T NOrO recoßtiled. . o —Kate Field's Washington. N\%\ THE BoGUs SIR HENRY. S Os course young Lockwood had no business to fall in love with her, but he really couldn't help it. She was very tall ang very pretty, and very pleasant, to talk to, and pe. Tore he went home that night from the assembly he was head over hedls 11 love, i ’ At all events, he went away from the assembly resoiving to see more of Miss Van Zandt. . “This was not, g NNy ey . T

£ oW ORIVI Y Thatter. He 'haq found that she was staying with the AspinwaH-meses. and she hag been good énough to say bhe might cajl it‘,hc liked. , Lockwood was not exactly on intj. .mate terms with the AspinwajlJoneses, ang Siice a certain episode last, Summer, in which he thought : one of his‘friends hadq not_been trea - / ed qliitelright., his relation with Mrs. Aspinwall-anes“had_ been rather Bee. Slratned. j owever, he was not callS\f it ble familv, and he e maEr ook O e Y 8 B B e

R B TLU TR so i T <t w 8 s b S A onnection © WIBN DI Van Zandt, and the - thought was very agrecable to him, for he knew'Miss Van Zandt was o ® . weryrich giri. : . <kf‘he married her, it wouldn't be | ~for money, of cource; but then, you | know, money.is very convenient, and , not to be dispised. i _He found . Miss Van® Zandt on 2 , piazza, and she was very glad to see | him, at least she said sO, and she | smiled in away that led him to be- | ‘lieve that she meant it. - “It's so very good of you, Mr. Lock- I wood, I'm sure, to come down and | see me,” she said. { “You know it is your own fault.” | Lockwood smiled back, seating him- | self in a steamer chair, ‘for if you | give people invitations you must know | they sometimes accept.” ‘ R B s e e

= achiuL adaQ . a 200G many:things, but he didn’t seem to care much about talking. Helay back in his chair and watched the girl’s animated face as she talked and saw the clear brightness of her brown eyes and the turn of her neck as she moved her head. Her voice was very odd, with pleasant modulations and droll inflections, and her smile was sunny and cordial. Lockwood wondered whether she Was patronizing or not, forshe said to | him: ‘ “I am almost certain I saw you last, year in London. - I know you must be | an Englishman.” . Which was very reasonable, as Lockwood was very large, with a great deal of color in his face, and he had blue eyes and very blonde hair. . i **Really,“you are very complimentary, but I have never been abroad,” he said. gt She seemed so anxious to please him and find subjeets that he liked to talk | ST e G g AR RR G R L Tk S = !

abOUL that rockwood put her down either for a giri who had been in 50~ciety very little, and had her head - turned by the attention she received. or else a gir! who mereiy made a business of flirting. But he found out a good deal more about her before the summer was over. Miss Aspimvall-Jones, who by the way, differed from her mother in more ways than one, found it easy to throw them together. It was not a difficult "thing to do at all, and sg, after a german which they had danced together—the same german, by the way, which was led by Archie Leland 1‘ and Miss Aspinwall-Jones—Miss Van | Zandt burstinto her friend’s room and | began to cry ina very self-satisfied way, and then smile th rough her tears.. | “I had to accept him, my dear.” 5 And then they embraced and kissed | one another and exchanged mutual | Lonfidences, ’ But the next day brought compli- | sations. Mrs. Aspinwall-Jones locked | the door after the horse was stoi=n by | taking Miss Van Zandt off to Hash- | Bish falls on a picnic and leaving | - Lockwood out. ’ . And somehow that started a row | ~ Between the two, and finally endedl M 0 Lockwood's going away to New- }

port and Miss Van Zandt's shutting herself up for a day in her room, from which she emerged presently with Suspiciously shining eyes and very red cheeks. “Tell me about, it, do?” said Miss( : Aspinwall-Jones, £ “I won't,” snapped: the other, in anything but an amiable way, “But I'm awfully sorry.” 6.&'08?‘7 ¢ | [ And it happened that » few days | | | after Miss Aswinwill-Jones ' looked very tearfully at hep friend, and thoy! t both smileq as they agreed that men | ] were perfeetly horrid. . f C Phere Wacrit. - G

e o TOLY IUOR GRh e about it, even it the men concerned were only Archie Lelang and Corliss Tuckerman n; but Young Lockwood was an altogether different sort, of a man, and he moped about the Casino at Newport and smoked numberless cigarettes in moody contempiation of . | the world. £ Hestarted verviitiass oo

And sall3. v asuelE -LW rite to her and tell her he was wrong, but it was very hard Work, and the halffinished notes Were consigned to the Wwasté-basket® or burned. On the third day he found a note at his place 1 at the table, ang he looked ‘at the Writing and then thought he recognized it,. There was no mistake; the note was from Miss Aspinwall-Jones, He opened it, read ang whistled. “‘Dear Mr. Lockwnod, "ranthe note, “Idon’t know what you will' think of; _ me for writing in this WAy amnmade ol Pliaas CiLFUMII S L -

SoßsEas sn e RN CCRARAE: 1O Y goodness sake, neyep tell Adele; but T I Woudd like very much to have.yoy come and visit us in disguise. 1t you can manage it, come and visit us ag Lord , | Kitznoodle or something else, and you Iflay appear at our dance on Monday. Come down and see Adele, ang judge | for yourself how she takes it—yoqy i know very well what T mean, Pleuse‘ Write me at once, and perhaps my; innocent, masquerade wi]] work.” Lockwood whistled again and took/ the next train for New York. Os course it was not, because Lockwood | ' knew some newspaper people inti- l mately that the following item ap- | beared in two of ‘the New York even- , ing papors:

=1 e Henry Bnrfordshire, of Lons | don, arrived Yesterday on the Servia, . | and after & few days’ stay at the Mur. 7| ray Hill Hotel will proceed im_gu*di- " ately to Lonnox, where he wi]] be the i guest of Mr. and Mrps.. Aspinwuli-j ’ Jones at theirchmming country house I | there. ” I Mrs. Aspim’s":iii-Jones in barticular | was delighted with the cateh she had } made. A real live English baronet, whom her daughter haq met in Tuxedo ! last year, was coming to visit, her, Iy ~Was a feather in her cap. And when | SSit Henrv Barton anade oo

o . M et B SRt TUUSTICSS DEISON IO She thought he was awfully nice,and | admired his huge pair of reddish brown | whiskers, and wondered if all English ’ barcnets wore such huge blue glasses | and spoke in such muffied tones. She | -asked him about it and he remarked: | | “Aw, vaas, vewy gweat Dbore. you | know, vewy—these glawses! Eyes | weak and all that sort o thing. | - Amewican railways of yours, vyou | know, vewy twying—dust and all that | sort o' thing. Chawming up here, | though: awfully pretty place » 5 And the baronet made haste to get ' up into his room as soon as possible, ; for he thought a certain girl had | E eyed him rather sharply as he jumped | from his trap so the ground and | ' walked up the piazza steps. i | *“‘Could she have guessed so soon?” | 'he muttered to himself. Boad!. T ‘ IASH't overact: Bt hew -awtaal |

o HITE DR AL o rare PRI (S Srpn e Ca e W VYR OY ) !palc she looked. I was a brute to ( force her into that quarrel. How | Miss Aspinwall-Jones laughed when | that infernal pug of hers barked jaround me and seemed to know me.” Lockwood’s troubles had onl ¥y begun though. When he went down for dinner that night he found himself seated next to Adele Van Zant. “How Ilove England,” she said. “Really,” he replied in a shaky tone which was mufiled and - husky. --He ‘ feared every moment she would recognize his voice, His eyes wandered across the table to Miss Aspinwall-, Jones, who was eating her salad composedly and with the most demure air , in the world. | . “I think I séw you there several | times, although I didn’t meet you.” | seXaas?? . ' “Do you stay in England very | much?” she asked. ' ““All the time—that is, you undes- | stand, when I am not awaw. Gwnnt.l

RR W B TIPS e UST e R g A vrvau 1 J many Amewicans in London when I = et l “Did you happen to meet a Mrs. | Van Rensslaer there last year?” - ‘““Yaas, vewy chawming woman, handsome and all that, don’t you | know.” ; “Oh. how very nice! She is in { Lenox, and you must see her. I'll ask Mrs. Aspinwall-Jones to have her here for dinner to-morrow. Oh, come to think of it, she will be here tonight at the dance, and 111 be sure that you see her. IHow delighted you will be to meet an old friend.” !‘ | Lockwood thought, that he would | |be delighted, but he didn’tsay so. e | | knew Mrs. Van Rensslaer, to be sure, | ,l and he knew her for a very clever | i woman, f { She had known him ever since he | | was a small boy, and he could never | | hope to deceive her so well as these ' !peunlc whom he had just met thutl‘ summer. And he hastened to say | ! that after all he wasn’t quite sure; I | he met so many Americans he couldn’t, l possibly remember them ally and really he wouldn’t care to trouble ‘ Miss Van Zandt: he thought he could | get along very well without bother- | 1 ing her to hunt up people for him to | | talk to. |

[ His long beard began t him and he had narrow ese pouring soup down his shir stead of his mouth, and t ’ where it was fastened to his /hi-s ears; he was very hot gether the dinner was the I ever went through. “Oh, Sir Henry,” said neighbor presently, ‘sswhat pretty ring,” and she looked his left hand at a handsome Lockwood thought she lin the “‘Sir Henry” with tantili bhasis; he looked up quickly ¢ ('f#sed his stupiditvy forlaao!

g o — | i R eSA Al ~Q },l ,4,,,[‘ ‘L_ '—:‘:j | ring on. %! Zy ,fi»‘”"{i';_; e S L “Ihad a friend this summ % e ~'/{(Lf o o i"ha(l one exactly hke it H@R sL ,{ IN= W//% lodd!” =)\ eVe | “Veryl commented Lo@. .~ == 7R 2R groaning inwardly. ¢«The (el =D PILRL 5 1890.] muttered. ¢She doesn’t seonl HooryrionEn By THE AUTE feeling very sadly about this e Qne wouid thinle frn. ¥ ot

Lo e Erta e AUORTY G g L ) | Angelica™y that she was near | With grief. I wish I were w | of this.” He had g suspicion that onn ; (' his beard was slipping down | with a flimsy excuse he left th. . hurriedly. _ “Your Englishman is agr and very rude,” sai?l Miss va oy to Mrs. Aspinwall-Jones presenty I “You mustn’t Judge him hand,” was the reply, I have ] him up in the ‘peerage,’ and he from one of the swellest, famil AR aa g s -

DN SRR i b Acviiiil rjngiand. 7T agm Very sorry that [ | do not like him. \ That evening at the dance it ! | noticed that Sir Henry was very | | tiring, ang cared very little a | meeting people, and when Mrs, {Z:mdt brought him up to Mrs. ’ Rensslaer anq said she would fin {him anq old friend, she me ]’ laughed anq lugged the Supposed ’ glishman off into the inclosed rpiu “What are You trying to go, § I absurd boy?s» she said, tugging at, beard. “ | “Don’t! Stop! Let me alo f What do You mean?” Lockwooq vy horrifieq, But she said she Inew Wi |} g P

T g Sl N R iy Irc { the minute he walked across the iloa{ .jand she made him tell the wn | story and gave him some gooq advic .| which he followed at once, for M} | Van Zandt was Soon out on the pia | za in place of Mrs. Van Rensslaer, | ‘“‘There were once two people wd /'loveti each other VEIy mtch,» § said, “hut they had 2 foolish qugIrgi, at the bottom of which wasa ‘scheming Woman who wanteq to lo {the man a wrong ip revenge for a wrong she thought he hay done hir, And the giy] Was very angry anq listened to h‘i;’w() AL, and -»w_"":'

TRrneeEßn drawl had clHon it some way to a voice Adele Van i Zandt knew well and had heard before. ? “If she was a very nice girl and | really loved the man, I think she would tell him not to g 0 away again | —why, what are you doing? What a | , horrid brown, nasty false beard. Oh, | | You foolish boy! 1 knew you all the | | time.” j | And two items were printed in New | | York the next day. ‘Sir Henry Bar- | fordshire has been called back to ' ' England by illness in his family,” was | one of them, and “George Lockwood f has returned to Lenox, after a brief | Stay in Newport,” was another. j { And when Miss Aspinwall-Jones | | saw them and read them she smiled. | A Japanese Game, \ ' The most popular of all the in-door |

a—— e ot oAT Iy 7A TS ML, S SN N L | bastimes of the Japanese is a game ? 1 called ““Go.” It is the great source | |of most of the visitors to the | . hot springs, and is often j | ’ played there from moruning | | till night, save for the time devoted ’ |to bathing and eating. “Go” clubs | | and professors of the art are found in | | all Targe cities. It is said that *Go” ; may with justice be considered more ‘ ditficult than our game of chess, The j | game was introduced into Japan from ‘ ; China in the early part of the eigth | century. ] ~*G0” is played on a square wooden | l board. Nineteen straight lines crossing each other at right angles make ' 361 crosSes (called me) at the points | |of intersection. These may be oc- | icupiod by 180 white and 181 bl.'wkg men. i , The object of the gameis to enclose ' . | the crosses, and capture as many of i | the adversary’s men gs possible. ' | l There are nine posts on the board, | Ak SN LPR TATL, T e 851

e ( glled seimokee, stupposed to represent, | the chief celestial bodies, while the ’white and black men represent day and night, and the number of crosses ! the 360 degrees of latitude, exclusive |of the central one, which is called :l' taikyokee; that is, the Primordial | Principle of the Universe. | In playing, if the combatants are i equally matched, they take the white | men (called ‘“‘stones” by the Japanese) § alternately; it unequal, the weaker ' | player always takes the black, and g odds are also given him by allowing | him to occupy the spots—that is, to | place stones upon them at the outset ; 1’ of the game. : ; ( ‘‘Go” is such a complicated game ' { that the personal instruction of a | teacher is indispeunsable to one who | wishes to learn It. HBven with thig i help very few foreigners have suce. [ ceeded in getting beyond a rudimente ! ! ary knowledge ot It. | j It is true, however, that one per- ' severing man, a German named Kore I schett, haSactually succeeded in take ing out a diploma which certifies hig ' proficiency in this interesting but f ‘most dificult game, i Tuw man who claimed that the ] world. cwed him a living is slowly ‘collecting the debt. He isatramp. |

— | ' a G Y s ;v l“ {\\\ ! : /fl | = ?“,‘ .{/ (\ ‘(.‘,_".‘! ofm/ = > ‘ \ e Wl Weile 4 iP e v ~ '4?«(/%}& )‘( (L 5 flw,%g@ HIOLBE, . i ) . , & i(, s o By

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] CHAPTER IV, THE BEAUTIFUL PHANTOM ‘ mechanically songht the door, and s startled, indeed, upon suddemly en- ] puntering Burton, who was leisurelyl scing up and down the north balcony. I e noticed my astonishment, laughingly, | .d motioned me to be seated upon the 5 alcony railing. : " «Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked. . “Yes,” ] replied, “I did; but whether i enjoved a dream Or a reality I cannot otermine. Is this an enchanted house here a person is deluded into passing rough all these things, or were those ctually spirits gathered together on a B cadhe ) 00000 $ nias €I

£Btal occasions & «Those were the shades of the people ho once lived here,” replied Burton. hey were here to celebrate a popular | family anniversary, and also to receive ‘ In becoming state a person, who, you | “have undoubtedly heard, is destined to “work out an important mission in con- ! “hection with the housc. ok | * «That means me,"l presume,” said L “«But what,” I asked, “is this mission—- " this all mysterious mission—that I have | " heard referred to so wany times within | the past few hours?” l [ “It has been ordained that oth- i ers should acquaint you with | | the necessary information.” replied | L Burton. “Besides, thoe most mys-‘: | terious part of the mission has boen‘; | studiously kept secret from me. KEvery- { | thing will undoubtedly be made plain 0| | you as you need to proceed.” i ; The glorious prospect of the waking | | day, as the sun's great orb slowly crept i % out of the eastern void, fixed our atten- | ‘| tion and stayed our words for a spell, ”| and we drank in the radiant effect in | silence. ! When the sun had crept up its length ; or 50 along the firmament, Burton arose and said that he must leave me for the | day, as ho had to gotoa neighboring village on a business errand. He in- | formed me that dinner would be ready | for me at noon, and that if I got lonesome the o'd family library had a rich store of the wherewith to while away [#time. Then he wished me a pleasant gaing . and left me in charge of my

| 80 lon‘g"gat 1t cameopen with difliculty, | but finally yielded and I walked in. | The room was filled with easy chairs, 1 writing desks and various-sized book- | cases, Opening one of the latter, I| | drew forth a quaint little volume that { had attracted my attention through the { glass front, and opeuned it. A small | parcel fell to the floor. I picked this | |up to see what it contained. A large white rose, dried and pressed from hgy- | ing been in the book, and musty with f‘aue. was disclosed; but from it even | then issued a delicate fragrance that | was charming to the sense. The stem of this rose was uniquely attached by a small blue ribton to 2 thick piece of | | bretty note pape, upon the opposite side i of which wer> written some verses, | headed with the words, “To Zeyna,” ' and signed by Burton Arold. I was so . curious as to read these verses. They - were as follows: Y f Os all the flowers, dear, that grow | ¥ Irom thae thactits o o

T weomen e S EOL VLD SOO ‘ The fragrant white rose is, I knoy, § Sweet as the smile of God; ' As sweet, Zeyna, thy nature true, | A Sweet as thou, how few! , Then take this rose and wear it w here "Twill catch the changing sheen } That darts along thy raven hair, | Or glances bright between ~ The lashes of thy tender eyes ~ And on thy fair cheek lies. Wear 1t love, where thy breath, twice sweet, Can kiss its fragrant leaves; Look on’t, then think, my dear, to meet Me ’neath the hanging eaves Os the old rose-bower to-night, Prepared for secret flight. I fell to musing upon this little relic of Burton’s courtship, which .had been tut short, so he had told me, by the death of Zeyna. But I was disturbed presently by a slight Step upon the floor, Startled, I looked up. Angel of light! Dream of spiritual loveliness! Was heaven at hand, and was the queen thereof standing within the gates? Thus I, indeed, thought for lhe moment. l I had seen beauty before in this wonTS A IO e e A- e

. ferful world, both upon the painter’s canvas and in reality; I have seen it since; I had seen it the night before . among the ,apparitions of the Spiritnal , revelry; but may the beings that people ' paradise Le one-half so lovely as the radiant spirit maiden who stood SO ~divinely there in that ancient and dusty | library. ‘ | My wildest, most indulged flights of imagination were eclipsed in that face and form. I knelt in an ecstasy of reverence in the presence. Majestic and ' queenly, with a slight halo about the head; long, loosely flowing tresses; a pale, sweet, pur: face; tender, lustrous eyes, that seemed to melt the very soul with sympathy and rapture; a divinely perfect form, molded « Xquisitely within l { the transparent folds of a great zephyry | mantle of pure white—thus stood tho’ spirit before me! i ' I endeavored to speak but the ph:m-l tom placed a finger upon her lips and | shook her head. ~ Turning out of the room, and beckoning me to follow, she ilitted down the hall, through several bare rooms, thenj into a small office ina wing of the build- | ing. Here she stopped by the side of a | narrow door which she motoned me to | open. Itled usintoa vault, setin the ’ side of which was a rusty iron box, with its door partly ajar. The phantom sig- ; nified a desire to have this opened, and | with the aid of an iron bar that 1 found | upon the floor I pried the door back. A ‘ roil of parchment fell out. I started to‘

open this, but she shook her head, and | placing her finger against the dark side | .of the vault, traced, in pale phosphor‘cscent letters, that faded away almost as fast as she wrote, this sentence: “My \ intrusting to you this paper is a part of. Tt S R b PR RLSR TR

|your preordained fate; it is a part Ol your mission here; do not open it until | you aro well acquainted with the object | of the mission.” With this she bowed | her thanks and vanished. \ CHAPTER V. ‘ THE INVESTIGATORS. l I hurried back out of the vault, for it was a cold, dismal place, and locking in | my traveling valise the document in-} trusted to me, sought the open air just l in time to see a posse of mon rideup on ‘ lhorseback. They were all booted and spurred, and wore broad slouch hats, la.fter the accepted Louisiana fashion. I They were also armed with carbines and | pistols, and were determined-looking ‘ men. They rode dire-tly upto the front door, and seemed greatly abashed to sec a live person upon the premis:s. The | | leador, who introduced himsclf as the | | sheriff and the rest as all oflicers of the ! !parish. from the parish capital, asked! |me if I was the man of the house. I | replied that I was simply a visitor at | s et o 3 shatF ¥now ol np Hivineg |

the viila, ana vdv 1 KNOW O1 1Y JAVALS | head of the establishment. They in- | quired as to how long’l had been there. ‘ and if I had noticed anything out of the | way about the place. I answered that I i had arrived but the night bafore and | that nothing particularly bad had oc- | curred as yet. ‘ Then a long conversation ensued, in | L which I learned that several of the ofli-| cers were heavy land owners and that,{ they were so unfortunate as to be in | | possession of muany acres adoining the | Montinni estate, which land could not f | be sold for a penny on account of its | ‘I nearness to the villa, which was gener- | | ally belioved to be a cursed and haunted | | place. They said that they would like | | to search the house to see for themselves i | if any supernatura! agoucies infested it, | ‘i and if there were any noticeable grounds | for the wild reports current, throughout | | the community, if I would grant them | \ permission. This I did, as I had no au- | thority or inclination to do otherwise. | We all entered the house together, the sheriff and myself leading. We had hardly got half way down the hall when | the gentleman who boro the distinction | of being parish clerk felt his carbine ‘ eluding his grasp, and, almost overwhelmed with amazement and fear, saw | it leave his shoulder and retire swiftly | to the door, where it seemed to be held by an invisible somebody standing on : | guard. As he was too frightened to | speak, and as the Others did not notice | the mishap a panic was avoided. On they trudzed through the rooms, ah _closely; then throuzh

| rooms were aiix iuclcml. The sheriff fe 't { & curlosity to look into these. Taking a | skeleton key from his pocket he tried the | first one of the doors. The key turned | 10 the lock and he was Just puliing the door open when g strong iight flashed from within. blinding all for a moment, during which time the door was closed, locked and the key thrust back into the Sheriff’'s hand by, to them, an invisible agency, but to me the agency appeared dist netly in the fair form of the phantom lady, who, pointing to the row ol doors, gave a warning lo)k. | Turning to the ofticers I told them that the just enacted reveiation was suf “(‘:"fl{. "\'i'!! nce L:’JL[J' :i&"*" 'f"wl'\ were not to be ORencd at the present time, and that perhaps it would not be well to persist in the investigation. And they seemed to agree with me, judging from their blanched faces. Ah, human bravery and cowardi e! how often dost thou live side by side in

PR Se e e Tl ST one heart! These seven men, four of} ’whom were veterans of two wars andi distinguished for their bravery in battle, there in that room where there was no | ’ danger at all, stood pale as the syecters | themselves, silent as statues, trembling, ’ Speechless, in abject fear. I watched them curiously for a moment. Pre enfly faint rappings sounded on all the locked doors, and a dense vapor began to obScure the hallway. One man let*his | carblne drop to a rest upon the floor, and at the noise thus made every honorable officer started as if awakened from a troubied sleep, ard in concert, as ’ if inspired with a sudden madness, they i Bave a wild, crazy yell and fled down the _ { stairs and down into the outer air as if | the legions of Tophet had been let, loose at their hecls. ]‘anic»stricken, they ' hurriedly mounted and Spurred their as- | tonished animals to their full powers of speed down the road. Thus mén otherwise brave and perhaps heroc are sometimes fright ned out of their wits by ono little supernatural sign. It is natural that this should be; so You and I are mnot surprised, and hold them in no contemnt B

e e e e i 0 L . Tor it. : Sqon nothing could be seen of the iny | Vestigators but the cloud of dust their | | brecipitate flight had stirred up, and I , | turned into the house ana repaired to | the dining-room, where I found a good ); lunch spread for meo. Having eaten to .| my s‘?nisfaction. I concluded that T would spend the rist of the day saunter- - | ing about the ficlds and looking at the | country. ' CHAPTER VI. i THE OLD NEGRO’S STORY | Abouta half mile above the house there | was a shady valley with a slight blufr | upon one side. This had attracted my’ attention, and after I had eaten my | , lunch I started forthwith to explore in that direction. 1 At the edge of this va'ley I noticed a i little, Dbadly weather-beaten shanty, upon a stool in front of which an aged negro was sitting, playing snatches of Jjigs and tournabouts on a dilapidated old ban’o. I téok it into my head to in- ! terview the o'd man, and stepping up to | | him accosted him with, “Hell, uncle!” I | Never shall I forget the amazed look | of that patriarch as he started up in response to my salute. I He then stopped his twanging banjo and sat as one dumb, for g moment; ! then jumping up, ran to me and clasping both arms about me, cried between sobs and laughter: “Lor’ bress y’ Massa Man'l, dey tol’ me yo’ wus dead an’burried in q’ grabe |

—_‘#“ ya'd down dah, an’ Ise dun kep yo' ~grabe green fur fefteen yeah!” That I who had been born and reared ' in the North, and knew but litt'e of the Ig!ory of owning slaves, should be adl dressed as “Massa,” was queer enough; ' but to be thus warmly fawned upon Ly | a strange darky, and carnestly toid that my grave had been kept green for fifteen years, was startling indeed. Os cou:se, 1 immediate!y saw that the venerable | black: had simply made a mistake in - identity. As he insisted on continuing to go into ecstasies over me and to al.ude 1o me as his “own goad Massa Man’l,” 1 had to shake him away and explain to him his error. le scemed very reluc- . tant to accept the truth and was really S e AT e S ee S

disappointed. . Aiter 1 Nd& GbLyceme him that I was not his deceased master come to life, no matter how closely I might resemble that gentleman, we had a2 long ialk comcerning the Villa Mon.tinni. 1 learned from him that his master had been one of the youunger El Muzas; also that the El Muzas, and another family, the El Zega's, who had been in partnership with the Montinnis, and had made their home at the villa for many years, were Spaniards of Moorish ancestry, descendants of princes of the Alhambra, and were very proud of the purity of their lineage. 'the old negro's views of the haunted house were queer. He held the idea that all the doors, pieces of furniture, etc., were animated with life and could move around just as they chose. He had secn | them move back out of the way, ex- | change places, cte., but did not seem to % understand the fact that they were man- ' ipulated by invisible hands. ilis common | negro instinct gave him a terror of | ghosts, but notwithstanding this he had | frequently venturel into the old Louse

&5 Iy WNsEe e g SR NP G, N T S, S T T Rp. & e Tho o R in the day time. Only once had he tehe!d a spiritual manifestation, and then he foll down upon h's face and prayed for mercy, forihe thought that his time to perish had con.e; but his fear had turned to rapture when he beheld tho fair face of the phantom lady fixed in ’ the air be’ore him. He thought she was an angel come to take him to the ! promised blessedness. i, “] tell yo' wat it am., massa, » he said, #when 1 seed dat spirit lady I knowed "PS ‘twuz de Senorita Kl Zegal—Zeyna | ‘wuz ’er fust name—as died wid 'er heart i breaked kos de ol’ fotks parted her frum |do chap she lub. Y'sce de chap’s mud- | der, as wuz a EI Murza, an’ married a t Englishman, wuz dezurted by ‘er hus- | ban’ an’ de folks wouldn't be ieb in de | legwality ob de marriage, s 0 dey | wouldun't let de son court de gal. De las’ time de chap cou'd get to see 'er he ‘ don’ gib ’er a big w'ite rose an’ a papah | wid somethin’ writ on it, an’ aftah he went away she read de writin’ an’ kiss {de rose an’ cried. 1 knowed dat it wuz | forbid dat dey sec each udder aftah dat. ' Den de young lady as wuz lubbed by " ebrybody took sick an’ died an’ wuz laid | away. 1 digged de grabe. I knowed | jis whar dat young chap pick dat w’ite | rose, an’ [ goed an’dig up de bush an’ | sot it out on de hcad ob de grabe, for I knowed dat de young lady wuz a angel . an’ would look down from hebben an be | glad an’ like o’ Ben for puttin’ dat rose- | bush dah. When I seed ‘er face in de | haunted house I thought da% my time . | to go had come an’ datv she had come to hdeadma bp o hobben. But laws! massa, BRS e o B A

h since dat tdme: keds : S BoespßpAn an’ wb £ S ;| body dat am dead an 0t YO o i | like to serve, han’ dis papah to him for | it has news in what he as udders wi.l be | concerned.” An’ den she don’ van- | ished.” | Another point had come in my destined work. I knew that I was the per- | *on io whom the newspaper in question | was to be given. “Ben,” I said, “do yon remember that ' I came from the haunted house, and that you mistook me for a person whom you once delighted to serve? That pa- [ peris for me. You must let me see it | by all means. It may do a power of ‘,:t)ud " | . [TO BE CONTINUED.] { The Temperament of Genlus. | Aneminent litserateur, who like other journalists seems in the scason of the | big gooseberry—the season, too, de- - s%ribed by a leading publisher as the dullest onyrecord--to suffer from lack of

{ matter for his monthly gossip, has ]raised. apropos of Mrs. Ireland’s new | book, the o'd question of the celibacy of | writing men. He says to the matri- | mouially minded virgin, “Don’t marry a | man of genius.” So and on much the ’ Same grounds has the author of “Virginibus Puerisque” spoken. To quote him, “The practce of letters is miserably harassing to the mind, and after an hour or two's work all the more hum:}n portion of the author is extinet: he will bully, backbite, and speak daggers ” But the doctors ditter. A day or two ago I was talking to one of the most eminent and also one of the busiost 0f our literary men. I asked him what portions of life he thought most enjoyable. “Those ixn which I am hard at work,” he answe:ed, without a moment’s hesitation. “And does it not make you nervous and irritable?” was my next query. “Not at all,” he replied; “on the contrary, a spell of composition exhilarates me like the drinking of champazne. I never feel depressed or gloomy except when idle. ”

; One fancies Sir Walter Scott did not make a bad husband, and he worked | about as hard as most men. Depend | upon it, the marriage of a literary man is a8 much of a lottery as any other | wedding.—London Globe. l The Origin,and History of Wire Nalls. ’ The historv of the wire nail business in the Uniwd States for the past few years presents a miracle of industrial deve opment. As recently as 1883 wire naiis were known only as faney articles, . used in cabinet and fine finishing work, f and their manufacturs was confined to | one or two factories employinz in all I not more than 20 men. To-day it ranks side by side with all our great in- | dustries, and directly or indirectly not less than 100,000, souls are dependent on it for support. sfhe astonishing growth of this manufacture js shown in the following table, giving the product of the country in kegs of 100 bounds, each year , since 1882: Kegs. o e 50,000 1%3 80,000 mo' 120,000 MO cebsir bl R 500,000 18903,500000 meee oo e e A HARMLESS lotion for whitening and softening the complexion is made as follows: Casearilla powder, 2 grains; muriate of ammonia, 2 grains; emulsion of almonds, 8 ounces. Apply with a soft handkerchief.