6
THE PRIME OF LIFE.
Oh. Mesa the glad sun's warmth and light!
Away, my love, we'll wander.
To where the larch shines green and bright
Atrainst the dim wood yonder.
The young shoots sprout so fast to-day.
The old oak leaves are falling.
And from the coppice far away
I hear the cuckoo calling.
Hark! there among the high elm trees
The thrush sings where he settles;
And see, below, anemones
Put forth their blushing petals.
Does not the poet tell how spring
Affects a young man's fancy?
And so my heart turns, while I sing.
To love and you. my Nancy.
Each step new charms does nature add,
New beauties still discovers.
To make this old world young and glad
For us, young, happy lovers.
Ours is the Joy the lark feels there
Tuning his song to madness.
"Thank God that we are young, who share
And feel the young year's gladness."
rhen let our years be sad or gay,
And be they few or plenty,
fet, sweetheart, we'll forget to-day
We have been wed for twenty!
—Marshall Steele, in Clack and White.
I A CLEW BY WIRE 1
3;
' : S Or, An Interrupted Current.
;■
BY HOWARD M. YOST, §:
§ Copyright, iß<j6,by J. B. Lippincott Co. £
AWAMAWAMA/WWWft:
CHAPTER V.—CONTINUED.
The sound of the voice was intermit
tent. There would be a few words,
then a pause, and so on. I could make
no sense of the few disjointed sentences.
It lasted but a few minutes. Indeed, so
brief was the conversation, if that is
what it was, there w as no time to make
en investigation.
After a long period of anxious listen
ing I settled down again for sleep. And
when at last slumber came, it was
troubled. Vague, shadowy dreams flit
ted across my consciousness, and
through them all was a sort of premo
nition of future events, which seemed
to have a bearing upon the robbery.
The next morning 1 was awakened by
the sun shining in my face. Hardly
Shad I got 1113- eyes open and my senses
aroused to my new surroundings, when
a loud and long-continued thumping
01 the front door caused me to spring
out of bed. Hastily donning a few gar
snents, I went to the door and opened
St.
Mrs. Snyder was standing there, and
H.ll unmistakable look of relief came
over her face when she saw me.
"Ach my! you schleep so sount I vas
afrait somesing de matter!" she said.
*"Breal<fas' vas retty long dime alretty."
"All right. I'll be right over and eat
'lt," I replied.
While I was dressing the recollection
of the strange voice of the last night
came to me. Now, in the broad glare of
the forenoon, when all mystery takes
flight and the hallucinations of the
darkness become trivial, I wondered if
my imagination had played me a trick.
Tt, seemed as though I had heard the
■voice in a dream, so unreal did the cir
cumstance appear now.
I was standing by the huge chimney,
when again, breaking in upon my
thoughts, came the sound of that mys
terious small voice.
As on the night before, there were no
completed sentences; only a word be
tween pauses of various duration. The
■sounds were plainer, however; not loud
er, but more distinct.
Here was a mystery indeed, one which
did not choose only the shades of night
for its manifestations, but came in the
■daytime, as though possessed of such
subtle and unaccountable qualities that
It might defy research.
After the voice had ceased, and I con
tinued my toilet, the sound of talking,
coming from the walk outside, reached
me.
I glanced out of the window, and saw
Burah and Mrs. Snyder again in most
earnest conversation.
Somewhat surprised to see my old
nurse so early in the day, I called to
her:
"Hello, Sarah! What's the trouble?
What brought you here at this time?"
"Ach, Nel, bud I am glad to see you!"
(die exclaimed. "I couldn't schleep all
riight."
"Now, that was too bad," I said.
"What kept you awake?"
"I vas thinkin' of you all alone in dis
olt house, and so much strangeness
aboud it,"the good soul replied, with
her honest old face upturned to me.
"That was very foolish. Nothing is
going to happen to me," i said, lightly,
although I was not so sure of it now.
When I went outside the two women
were still talking, and there was an
awe-stricken expression on each face.
"What are you two superstitious old
girls doing now?" 1 asked. "Llatching
up more mysterious tales?"
Mrs. Snyder gravely shooh her head,
as though seriously condemning levity
on supernatural subjects. Sarah rest
ed her hand on my arm, and gazed up
Into my face. There was deep concern
in every line of her countenance.
"Nel, you come wiz me," she said,
leading the way. I followed around
the corner of the house, and she stopped
before a window, the shutters of which
v. ere closed.
"Look!" she exclaimed, pointing to
ward the shutters. "Mrs. Snyder says
dat vas not dere yesterday."
Like those of most Pennsylvania
farmhouses, the downstairs windows
were provided with solid boar 6 shut
ters.
In the center of this particular pair
was a small round hole, from the edges
of which a few chips running with the
of the wood were broken.
■"Well, what of it?" I asked, hoping
that I could avoid giving an explana
tion, for I was a trifle ashamed of my
aelf for firing at my own reflection.
"Somepody shot through de sliuttei
»nd try to kill you, maybe. It's a bullet
hoi's, aint it? Oh, Nel, didn't you hear
It? Mrs. Snyder heard it from her
house, and she look out her vindow and
aaw a man runnin' avay down de road.
You can't stay here, Nel. You go home
wiz me."
I could not forbear a smile at Sa
rah's fears, but, remembering they
were the consequence of the deep af
fection she felt for me, I checked the
frivolous reply which my tongue was
about to utter.
"Why, bless your dear old loving
heart, Sarah," I said, taking 1 hold of
her arm, "come, I'll explain that, and
when you know about it you'll laugh
at me."
The women went-along into my room.
"You see that window? You remem
ber the shutters were always kept
closed. Well, I had forgotten all about
it last night, and after I was undressed
I saw my figure, clad in my white night
robe, reflected from the glass. You
women must have made me somewhat
nervous by your talk while making up
my bed. Anyhow, I was a trifle fright
ened at my own shadow, and fired a bul
let at it. So, you see, no one tried to
kill me at all. It was only my own fool
ishness, of which I am heartily
ashamed. Now let me get some break
fast, and then we'll go all over the house
to satisfy you there can be nothing in
it which could do me harm."
I said nothing about the voices I had
heard, nor of the noise like the slam
ming of a door. There was no use in
adding to the inexplicable feeling of
alarm which my old nurse felt.
As for the man Mrs. Snyder had seen
after the shot fleeing down the road,
that was easily explained.
If my house had the reputation of be
ing haunted, it was most likely a passer
by would have wings to his heels on
hearing the report of a pistol about the
place.
After breakfast we went through the
house.
I noticed that all the windows were
closed. Therefore it was no sudden gust
of air that caused the slamming of a
door. But nothing was discovered
which would give one reason to suppose
there was anything unusual about the
place.
We finally came to the attic, and I
looked out of one of the small win
dows, first brushing away the curtain
of cobwebs.
From this height I could see over the
orchards. On the brow of Sunset TTill,
about half a mile distant, was a large
house, evidently quite new.
It was a splendid structure for the
country, and I fancied a wealthy resi
dent of the city had discovered the
beauties of Nelsonville and built him
a summer residence here.
"Whose place is that over on Sunset
Hill?" I asked.
"Some rich man's from de city," Sa
rah answered.
"Do you know his name?" I contin
ued. moved by curiosity.
"Veil. I did know. Ach, vhat is it,
now? I forget efervsing soon," Sarah
replied.
Here Mrs. Snyder chimed in: "Ilis
name is Morley."
"What?" I exclaimed, in amazement.
"Morley? Sylvester Morley?"
"I ton't know his first name," the old
widow answered.
"Has he a daughter? Is she here?"
"Yes, and she so fine and prout. Ach,
and so pretty! Yes, she is here. Dey
live here now in de summer," continued
the old lady, glad for the opportunity of
imparting news."l see dem almost
efery day. Dey drife by. And him, de
man, neli, vhat a fine shentleinan! So
tall and straight, such a fine peard, and
he looks so prout, too!"
The garrulous old widow's descrip
tion satisfied me. My heart beat rap
idly. I had come into this secluded
place with no thought further from my
mind than that I should find Miss Mor
ley here.
Was there a design of fate in this?
And—was she still my true love? Per
haps I should see her; but I remem
bered my determination and my prom
ise to her father, and how far I still
was from removing the condition im
posed on the renewal of our friendship,
and, I hoped, our love.
This afterthought filled me with an
impatience to commence some kind of
investigation on my own hook.
I had had a short interview with Mr.
Perry, the president of the bank, just
before my departure for Europe. It
had been most unsatisfactory to me,
for Mr. Perry was able to hold out no
hope of immediate relief. He was just
as earnest., however, in advising me to
still keep on my course of apparent in
difference and do nothing in the way of
a search myself.
Since that interview six months had
elapsed, and I had heard nothing from
him. I now resolved to take the affair
in my own hands. For togo on living,
with Florence Morley so near to me,
and still refrain from indulging in her
sweet society, would simply be tor
ture.
"Come, Nel," Sarah finally said,
breaking in upon my thoughts. "We haf
not seen all yed."
CHAPTER VI.
When we were again standing in the
main hall on the first floor, Sarah's last
remark came to me.
"We have been over the whole house,
have we not? What more is there to
see?" I asked.
"Ach, Nel! haf you forgot de place
you alvays vanted togo to and ve
vouldn't led you, because it vas damp
and dark?"
"That's so. You mean the cellar."
"Yes, yes, to be sure. You vas lost
vonst, and ve couldn't fint you for a
long dime. Vhen ve did, you vas
aschteep in de cellar."
"Well, come along. Let us have a look
I it," I said, eagerly. The noise like a
slamming of a door had seemed to
come from below. Perhaps I should
discover the cause down there.
On opening the door leading down
from the dining-room, a musty odor as
sailed my nostrils.
It is peculiar how the sense of smell
brings bad" to one old associations and
memories. I recollected that musty
odor perfectly, and it brought back the
days of boyhood more vividly than any
thing else had done.
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, MARCH 31, 1898.
We descended the stairway, and
found the cellar baro and empty. I
peered into every dark nook and cor
ner, but there was nothing which could
have caused the noise.
"Nothing to be seen here, Sarah," I
said. "Maybe we can find something
of interest in the old storeroom."
My grandfather, in his latter days,
had kept the village store and post
office.
The house was built on the side of a
small hill, so that it was three stories
high on the street side and two in the
rear.
The cellar was divided into two apart
ments by a thick wall of ptone. One
apartment was used for the house sup
plies. The other section was in turn
divided in two, the front facing on the
street serving as the store and post
office, the rear, a deep, cavernous, un
derground room, having been used for
the storage of barrels of vinegar, mo
lasses, tobacco and dried fruit.
We descended the open stairway lead
ing down to the storeroom from the
main hall. The door was at the bot
tom, and at first I thought it was
locked. Upon closer examination, I dis
covered that it had only become tightly
jammed by a slight settling of the sur
rounding timbers. A few vigorous kicks
soon caused it to open, and we stepped
down into the room.
The shutters to the windows were
closed, but there was above the door
leading to the street a small transom.
Through the dust and moisture-be
grimed glass a few rays of light pene
trated, producing a twilight gloom in
the apartment, but not so deep that we
were unable to see.
One of the old counters still remained,
and scattered over the floor were a
few empty boxes and barrels. I thought
of the white-haired old man whose form
had been so familiarly associated with
the room, and I glanced over to the
corner with a fancy that he was here
still, seated behind the desk.
"Yhy, vhere's de door gone?" Sarah
cried out, in tones of excitement.
"What door, Sarah?"
"Xel, you know, you remember. T)er
used to be a door to de store cellar,
and now dere ain't any."
Sarah was right. There had been a
doorway, through which I had stolen
many times for the purpose of filling
my pockets with raisins and dried fruit.
There was none now. The wall of solid
masonry confronted us.
It really seemed a matter of very
little importance, but Sarah kept up
excited exclamations about it, until I
finally stopped her.
"Why, Sarah, I don't see anything very
strange in the walling up of a cellar
y
"T 08. and she »o fine and prout."
doorway. No doubt Mr. Sonntag, my
lawyer, had it done. I remember the
place was dark, damp and unhealthy.
He thought it best to have it closed
up, perhaps. There was another door
from that cellar leading outside, was
there not?"
"Y r ss, right unter your betroom vin
dow," Sarah answered.
"Well, that can be easily broken down
if j-ou want to get in the place. But
what would be the use of all that
trouble? I don't want to use the cel
lar."
But then I remembered the noise
which had seemed to come from be
neath my bedroom, and the cause of
which I was unable to discover through
out the rest of the house.
"We might take a look at the other
door," I finally said, reflectively.
We ascended the stairway and went
around the house. Thick vines, reach
ing to my bedroom window, completely
hid the outside cellar door.
I parted the vines, and found again
the solid foundation wall. This door
way had also been walled up.
Sarah was so greatly impressed by
this new discovery that her excited ex
clamations broke out anew, and she
again began to plead with me to leave
the place.
Again I sought to quiet her fears by
laughing at her, although it did seem
a trifle strange that my agent should
have walled up the doorways. I was sat
isfied he had had it done, and I won
dered what his reasons could have been.
Perhaps, after all, Mrs. Snyder was
right in affirming that there were mys
teries about the old house. Perhaps
this walled-up cellar was the seat of
supernatural demonstrations, and my
agent had sealed it up for that reason.
"I do not intend to lose any sleep
over it," I said, lightly. "Sonntag must
have had good reasons for doing this,
and I can easily find out what they were
by driving over and seeing him. I want
*o have a talk with him, anyhow."
Here the rumble of wheels reached
my ear. As I glanced down the road
way and saw the appreaching turnout,
why did my heart beat faster and a
dimness cloud my sight?
Mrs. Snyder had also glanced in that
direction. "Veil, now look, Mr. Nel,"
she began, excitedly. "You can see
yourself how dey look. Dey is coming.
Dat is de Morleys."
My heart had given me the informa
tion before the widow's tongue.
There were two persons in the light
road-wagon which was being whirled
toward us at a rapid rate by the spir
ited horses. I could not be mistaken in
the graceful poise of the head and the
1 general outlines of beauty about the
young lady, nor In the grave dignity of
the man.
The carriage swept along. When
nearly opposite us, the young woman
evidently caught sight of the group
standing back from the roadway, for
she leaned forward and sent a glance
past her father toward us. I saw, even
though iny sight was dimmed by emo
tion, her face turn pale and her eyes ex
pand. She gave 110 ether sign of rec
ognition, however, and the carirage
swept by.
And this wasall. After a year of sep
aration, a year of longing and home
sickness, I was greeted with a stare by
the girl who had declared she would al
ways trust and believe in me.
I watched the wagon until a bend in
the road hid it from view, and then still
looked toward the spot where it had
disappeared.
A touch on my arm recalled my
thoughts, and I glanced around into
the solicitous face of my old nurse.
"I guess de young voman is putty,"
said Mrs. Snyder. "Ach, and you dink
so, too, Mr. Net."
"Yes, she is beautiful, very beauti
ful," I murmured, more to myself than
for answer to the widow's clumsy at
tempt at pleasantry.
Sarah's watchful old eyes and the
promptings of her affection for me dis
cerned something more in the fixed
gaze I had sent after the wagon than a
suddenly awakened admiration.
"Yhat is id, Nel ? Do you know her?"
the good soul asked, anxiously.
"I'll tell you some time," I answered.
Yes, 5 - es; beautiful indeed was Flor
ence, lovelier than ever, and good and
true —well, I did not seem to feel so sure
of her faith. She had passed me by
without extending a salutation. I
could not blame her for not recognizing
me, after the resolve I had inade, but it
cut me to the heart, nevertheless.
ITO BE CONTINUED.]
TEARS WERE FORBIDDEN.
A Sole to flnlt Meant That the Type
writer Wan to Go.
She was a dainty little thing, and the
old gentleman seemed to be prepos
sessed in her favor right from the start,
but there was evidently something that
made him pause.
"Look here," he said, in his blunt
fashion, "I like you and your references
are all right. You run the typewriter
as if you knew all there is to know
about it, and you don't look like a girl
who would be sick every third day and
want to get away an hour or two early
all the rest of the time, but before I
engage you I want to have a clear un
derstanding with 3'ou on one subject."
"Yes, sir," she replied, looking at him
inquiringly.
"OT course," he explained, "I expect
you will be perfectly satisfactory, but
if j-ou are not there must be no doubt
about my right to discharge you."
"Certainly not."
"If I want you togo I'll just have one
of the clerks put a note on your desk or
leave it with the cashier for you, and
jou're to take that as final."
"Naturally," she said, looking at him
in some surprise.
"You're not to enter any protest or
file any objections," he persisted, "&pd
most of all, you're not to weep."
"Why, I suppose 1 can ask you why—"
"You can't ask me a thing," he broke
in. "If you get a note asking- you to
quit you're just to put on your things
and walk out a whimper of any
kind. Is that understood?"
"It is," she replied.
"Have I your promise to live up to
that agreement?"
"You have. But it is such an ex
traordinary request that 1 —1 —"
"Young woman," said the old gentle
man, impressively. "I've been in busi
ness here for 50 years, and up to the
time women got a good foothold in the
business world 1 was in the habit of
engaging and discharging clerks as
seemed to me best from the stand
point of my "business. In an unguarded
moment, however, 1 was induced to hire
a young woman to run a typewriter for
me.andafterlfoundthat she wasn't sat
isfactory to me it took me over eight
weeks to discharge her. I left a note on
her desk and she [vromptly came in and
wept on mine. I turned the job over to
various subordinates, but each time she
came into my private ollice to do her
weeping, and inside of a week she had
the whole force wrought up to a point
where business was being neglected,
and she was still drawing salary just
the same. Women in business may be
all right, but when it comes to getting
her out of business somebody else can
have the job. However, if you'll make
a solemn promise togo without a single
weep if you don't suit, I'll try you."—
Chicago Post.
A Stickler for Realism.
Some amateurs in a provincial town
gave a theatrical performance. Just
before the curtain went up the star
actor took the manager aside and said
to him:
"Now* look here; I don't propose to
drink water instead of wine in the
»drinking scene In the second act. 1
want wine—genuine wine. The unities
must be preserved. We want to make
this play as realistic as possible."
"Oh, you want champagne at 15 shil
lings a bottle, do you?"
"Yes. Everything must be realistic."
"All right," replied the manager. "In
the second act you shall have real wine,
and when you take poison in the last
act you shall have some real poison.
I'll see that you don't complain of the
play not being realistic enough. How
does prussic acid strike you?"— London
Answers.
When I'lilebotoniy Wan in Knvor.
In former days, when medical men
believed in phlebotomy for nearly all
hurts and diseases, King Louis Phillippe
of France carried a lancet in his pocket,
and occasionally bled himself. On one
s occasion, when a man wa.s run over by
; the royal coach, the king bled the tin
j conscious victim with his own hands
Such treatment now would probably
I lead to a suit for damages.—Chicago
Chronicle.
Correct.
"Miss Wiggles worth thinks she's
eligible to the Order of the Crown.
She's sure she can trace her lineage i
ba<-k to one of the English sovereigns.' |
"How far has she f;ot?"
"She told me yesterday she had
struck a bar sinister."
"I guess that's right. I knew that
her great-grandfather was a bartend
er." —Cleveland Plain Dealer.
ICrnaly to Oblige.
Mrs. Wallington—This house is as
cold as a barn. I do wish you would
do something to make it warmer.
Mr. Wallington—Certainly.
And then he accommodatingly light
ed a match. —Somerville Journal.
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5 "EAST, WEST, HOIViE IS BEST," I
| IF KEPT CLBAN WITH |
fl ho Causa of tha Troohta.
| "Why, Tompkins, Miss Hubert* cnt
! you dead."
"Yes. We fell out."
"When?"
I "At a skating party."
i "Well, that's better than falling in.
| Wliat was tlie row?"
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square on my chest."
"W hat of that? She didn't get inad
at that, did she?"
I _ "No: but she overheard me telling my
: sister afterwards that she wasn't any
I feather."—Brooklyn Life.
You know what you say about your poor
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For Infants and Children.
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