Cameron County press. (Emporium, Cameron County, Pa.) 1866-1922, March 31, 1898, Page 6, Image 6
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. I £ ASTORiA] AVegetable Preparation for As- f| si mila t Ing thcTood and Heg ula - fl ting the Stomachs and.Dowels of am Promote sßigfestion,Cheerful- fll ncss and Rest.Contains neither M Opiutn,"Morphine nor Mineral, m NOT NAUC OTIC. I Sta/m afOld TIrSAMVELLu I UiUl B J\mplcu% SmJr* - M j4lx.Se/ma * 1 H . /focAef/r Ja&r- 112 NM j4nist Sttd- * I K» JVppermint Jti Card anatt JcJfri* I j9| H'orm Sted - 1 Jn Cl/trxfitd Suyttr • I S3 hintoynan rtaven J J3J A perfect Remedy for Cbfisfipa- m tion. Sour Stonuich,Diarrhoea, Jg Worms .Convulsions .Feverish- m ncss and Loss OF Sleep. M Tac simile Signature of nj cfL&pfZG&z i TsTEW YOBK. M fi XXACT CO?rOP"WEAPPER. [jH THE RUSH to™ KLONDIKE ! Jk 100,000 Prospectors this Year—ls there Room tor Them ?SK M —The Best Routes to Dawson Gitu, and what to take—The jJK J Methods o\ Mining, and all about the Alaskan Gountru. X Ah THE FIRST AUTHENTIC AND THOROUGH ARTICLE. With Thirty vjhi Illustrations. By S. S. Bush, President of the Chilkoot Pass Transportation Co | THE PREVENTIONIF LYNCHING. ¥ The Problem in the Southern States. By Edward L. Pell, D. D. 112 THE BLOWING UP OF THE BATTLESHIP "MAINE." Spain and the United States. \V/ t > THE ZOLA-DREYFUS AFFAIR. 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