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THE PITTSBURG DISPATCH.
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THIRD PART.
-i : -.n.rT,
PAGES 17 TO 20.
RAILROADS IN INDIA.
How the English Have Covered Hin
doostan With an Iron Network.
THE LOWEST FARES IN THE WORLD
Magnificent Stations and Iron Telegraph
Poles and Ties.
SECTIOX HANDS AT FIVE CENTS A DAI
BOMBAY, India,
May 10. --India hag
now 16,000 miles of
railroad. It is as far
from Calcutta to Bom
bay as it is rrom New
York to Denver, and
several trunk lines
run across Hindc
stan from one city to
the other. There are
branches from these
which go up the Him
alaya Mountains al
most to the borders of
Thibet, and others
which shoot off to the
Khyber Pass at the
entrance to Alghanis-
tan and not a creat distance from
the "new Russian railway, which
has been pushed on past Samarcand.
The day will come when we can travel from
London to Calcutta by rail, though this pre
supposes the cutting of a tunnel under the
English Channel. South India has many
long miles of railroads and the whole of
Hindostan, which is half the size of the
United States, has a railroad net covering
it The construction of these railroads has
,?Pli
i
r ic&?Mm&&&r - -oISTf
AN INDIAN BAII.KOAD TRAIN.
included engineering works, fully as grand
as the railroad making of the United States,
i and the keeping of them in order is more
difficult.
One of the great plagues of Indian rail
road makers is the white ant. These insects
eat every dead thing in wood form above
ground. If a pile of wooden ties is left out
overnight an attack of ants will have car
ried it away by morning, and there is no
possible storage of wooden ties. Such ties
as are in the roads are saved from destruction
by the vibration caused by the running
trains, which scares the ants away. It is
the same with telegraph poles and fences,
and the result is that the ties of most of the
railroads are made ot iron. I have traveled
about 3,000 miles over all kinds of railways
in India. The telegraph poles on many of
the lines are hollow tubes of galvanized
iron, about as big around as the
average man's calt, so made that
they fit into one another and form a
pole about ten feet high. To these poles the
lines are strung and many of the roads use
such poles throughout their entire length.
On ether lines the telegraph poles are T iron
rails, the same as those on which the car
travels. Two of these rails are fastened to
gether by bars about a foot wide, and then
this iron lattice work is set deep in the
ground and the wire strung upon it. About
some of ..these stations the fences are made of
such iron rails, and through hundreds of
miles along one of the rajah's railroads in
"Western India I found fences of barbed
wire with sandstone posts. These posts
were a foot wide and four inches thick, and
they stood about three feet above the
ground. The wires ran through holes in
them, and the railroad men tell me that
they are much cheaper than wood.
Dlncnlficent Depots.
I am surprised at the magnificence of the
depots in India. Here at Bombay there is
a finer railroad station than any we have in
the United States. It cost about 51,000,000,
and architecturally it is the peer of any
building at "Washington. At Calcutta there
are fine depots and even at the smallest of
the towns yon find well-made stone build
ing surrounded by beautiful gardens in
which bloom all kinds of tropical flowers.
Nothing about these stations is made of
wood. The platforms are of stone filled in
with cement, and the cars run into the sta
tions on a plane about two feet below the
floor, so that the floor of the cars is just
even with that of the depot Each station
has it first second and third-class waitin?
room, and everything in India goes by
classes.
The cars are first second, third and fourth
class and they are all on the English plan.
They are about two-thirds the length or our
cars and a trifle wider. They are not so
heavy as the American passenger coach and
they look more like wide, long boxes than
anything else. Each of these cars is divided
into compartments. In the first and second
class there are only two compartments to
the car, and the chief difference in these
two ciasses is in the. number allowed in the
compartment. If you will imagine a little
room about 10 feet long by 5 feet wide,
with a roof 7 feet high, in the center of
which there is a glass globe for a light
you may have some idea of the
Indian first-class car. You must,
however, put two long, leather
covered, cushioned benches along each side
of this room and at the ends of these have
doors with glass windows in them, opening
inward. Over the cushioned backs of the
benches there are windows which are let up
and down like those of the American street
car, and which are of the same size. The
car has none of the finish of the American
Pullman, and though you are expected to
sleep within it there are no signs of bedding
or curtains. At the back of it there is a
lavatory without towels, soap or brushes,
and there is barely room enough for yon to
turn around in it when you are washing.
The second-class cars are much the same,
and there may be one second-class car and
one first in the same coach.
The Sleeping Cars.
But how about the bedding?
Every man carries his own bedding with
him in India and these Indian cars give
you nothing else but a lounge on which to
spread a cotton comforter, a shawl, or a rug.
You carry your own pillows and the bed
ding of half a dozen passengers would fill a
car. Eaeh traveler of the first and second
class brings the most of his baggage into the
train with him, and there is often as much
as the contents of an American baggage car
in one of these compartments. No one un
dresses, but all lie down with their clothes
on, pull their shawls over them and sleep
the best they can. There are no porters to
wake you up at the proper time and your
boots remain unblacked. Women travel
ing alone universally go into compartments
reserved for women, and men traveling with
their wives have often trouble in keeping
together.
Cheap Railroad Fare.
Only rich natives travel second class in
India. The bulk of the first and second
class travel is made up of English and
Americans. The natives, as a rule, go by
the intermediate or third class, and the
third-class fares here are the cheapest in the
world. They are, by ordinary trains, less
than i cent per mile, and by mail trains
only 9-16 of a cent. Still the thhd,clasi
passengers at this low rate pay more to the
roads than either the first or second class,
and railroad managers tell me they believe
it will pay to reduce this rate much lower
than it now is. Mr. lillswortn, oi tne iien
vcr and Bio Grande Railroad, is traveling
with me, and he tells me that we have-not
begun to touch bottom in our American
railroad fares. He thinks the roads would
make twice as much if their rates were re
duced one-half, and says that the rednction
is sure to come. The English managers
well appreciate this, and the third-class
fares in England are the fares that fill the
pockets Of the stockholders.
Crowded Train.
f Here in India there is avast difference
between the prices of the various classes.
First class is, on the great Indian Peninsula
Railroad, which is a fair type of the whole,
2) cents per mile. Second class is just one
half this rate and intermediate one-half of
second class. Third class is one-half the in
termediate and the third class pays. The
third class cars carry 32 passengers. They
are divided into compartments with benches
uncushioned, running so across the car that
the passengers face each other, and the pas
sencers are packed in as close as sardines.
They are always full, and these East Indi
ans 'travel as much as do the citizens of tire
United States. I have yet to find a train in
which the third class cars were'not packed,
and many of those npon which I rode had
three times as many third class cars as first
and second class. Each native carries a
bundle with him containing his brass pot,
out of which he drinks, and often the pans
with which he coots his food. Accustomed
to the poorest of beds at home, a cotton
blanket suffices for his traveling rug, and in
waiting for the trains at the stations he
often puts his shoe under his head for a
pillow, and wrapping up his turbahed head
in the cotton cloth which covers bis bare
shoulders, sleeps upon the ground until the
train is called.
How Hindoo Women Travel.
The Hindoo women travel as lightly as
the men, but the two sexes are never put
into the same cars. There are closed cars
on all of the trains for high caste Hindoo
women,, and these have windows of blue
glass in the first and second classes, which
permit the women to look out but which
prevent the men from looking in. These
women come to the depot in closed chairs,
J. Kagpore Coach.
and as they go to the train they pull their
shawls close about their faces, though their
ankles and -calves, covered with gold or sil
ver bracelets, often show. In some of the
cars the windows of the women's compart
ments are so fixed with shutters that there
can be no looking out, and in the train
which carried me to Darjeeling there was
one car entirely covered with canvas as
thick as that of a circus tent This con
tained Hindoo women, who, as they rode
up the Himalaya Mountains through the
finest scenery in the world, were thus shut
in the stuffy darkness of this tent-like car
and saw no more Of the grandeur of the na
ture about them than they would have seen
had they been tied up in so many leather
bags and sent along as mail.
AFroMl-Pliarine Rnllrond.
One of the greatest roads in India is the
East Indian Railway. This railway has a
curious way of investing a percentage of the
wages which it pays its hands, which is found
to work both to the advantageof the railway
and the employes. "Wages are very low in
India, but through this method many of the
employes have become rich. All of the hands
"who receive over 30 rupees or ?10 a month,
A. Wedding Procession.
have to pay 2 per cent of their earnings to a
certain fund. They can pay as much more
than 2,per cent as they please. The road
receives the money, pays interest on it and
upon their leaving the service honorably
gives them back double the amount they
have paid in with interest This seems in
credible, bnt I am assured it is so. An En
glish clergyman told me that he knew a
railroad employe who went in at 510 a
month and who will soon take ont $5,000.
This method was entered into at the time
the railroad was built The managers were
hard up for capital and they wished to bind
their hands to them. The company is now
prosperous and it keeps np the same system.
Very Cheap Iinbor.
Speaking of railroad wages in India, I
find that section men work here for from 3
to 6 cents a day and that the roads can get
all the men they want at these prices. Engi
aers work oa time and distaaee, and they
.iSBt&M.
are about the highest paid oi the railroad
employes. They get about 570 a month
while running regularly, but they can in
crease this by extra running to 583 and 5100
a month. The Indian railways have no con
ductors in our sense of the word. The tick
ets are collected and examined by men at
the various stations and the guard who
manages the train in other respects, has
nothing to do with the tickets. Such guards
get about 525 a month and on the smaller
railroads they receive from $7 to 520 a
month. The most of the guards are natives
or half-breeds, while a majority of the en
gineers are English. I don't think the
English engineers are as well posted as our
American ones. I asked one of them the
weight of his engine. He stammered and
replied that he did not know. The Ameri
can engineer can tell you just what his en
gine weighs, how much steam she carries
and all about her.
A Pecnllar Freight Benedale.
The engines here are lighter than ours and
the whole equipment of the railroad is upon
a smaller scale. Most of the freight cars
are made of iron and you could crowd three
of them into one American caboose. They
carry on an average about six tons, have no
trucks and only four wheels. Our freight
cars will carry from 40 to 50 tons and some
of our narrow gauge cars carry 40 tons. If
these Indian trains had such cars they could
carry from seven to eight times the amount
they now do, but the people have never been
accustomed to large cars and they stick to
the old ways. None of these freight cars
are managed by brakes from the top and
you see no brakemeu trotting along on the
tops of the trains. Freight in India is
measured by the mound or 80 pounds.
Freigfit trains are called goods train, and I
find some curious rules in regard to freight
Beturn trip tickets are issued to horses, and
camels cost 12 cents per mile per truck and
four camels can be put on each truck. Ele
phant calves are transported at,the rate of 6
cents a. mile, and as to other animals, the
cost ot' them is gauged at the rate for dogs. .
A Dancerona Prcdlcnment.
One of the worst things about these In
dian trains is the impossibility of passing
from ona car to another and the difficulty
which one has to get at the guard or to stop
the train. You may be locKed up in the
same compartment with a mad man or a
robber and it is impossible for you to help
yourself. In the cars of one of the Western
Indian roads there is a little electric button,
fenced around with a walnut frame, over
which is a pane of thick glass. Just around
the button run the words:
"To stop the train break the glass and
touch the button."
On one of the trunk lines I was closeted
in a first-class compartment in a train going
at the rate of 30 miles an hour. Looking
upward I saw that the glass globe contain
ing the lamp was leaking and that a fnll
pint of oil had run out into it and that this
was shaking with each sway of the car.
There was nothing between it and the blaze,
and I feared every moment that it would
catch, the glass would break and a pint of
burning oil would spread out upon the
carpet of the little box-like room below, in
which I was. I looked for a bell rope.
There was none. I went all around the
sought everywhere some means of stopping'
tne tram. J. coma nua none ana naa to
wait until we arrived at the next station, a
half an hour later. Luckily no accident
happened and I was here able to call the
guard and have the lamp removed. Had
there been an explosion my only salvation
would have been in putting out the flame or
in jumping through the car window while
the train was going at this lightning speed.
Pbame G. Carpenter.
STRYCHNIA AND SNAKEBITES.
It Looks n Tbonch Whisky oa a Cure May
Have to Go.
Dr. Mueller, an Australian physician,
has, according to the London Hospital, suc
cessfully treated a number ot cases of snake
bite with strychnia. This he has done on
the hypothesis that the poison affects the
nerves, weakening and paralyzing them; in
fact, that the venom is not, after all, a
poison in the common sense, and does not
directly cause any change of tissue. Its
effect is simply produced by the operation
of dynamic force that is, it suspends the
action of the nerve cells for a longer or
shorter period. Hitherto all antidotes have
been administered on the theory that the
virus affected the blood, and the most suc
cessful results have come from the adminis
tration of alcohol, which seemed to main
tain the strength or the sufferer until the
poison was eliminated by natural means.
Dr. Mueller's theory at first sight is at
variance with the fact that the blood in
case of snakebite does actually change, but
his explanation of this change is that the
pulmonary capillaries, through which the
blood corpuscles pass when going to the
Inugs to exchange the carbonic acid of effete
blood for fresh and life-giving oxygen, have
lost their power. They owe the tension
their healthy contracting power to the in
fluence of the vaso-motor nerves, and when
the latter are paralyzed the corpuscles lose
their power, so to speak, squeezing out by
the superfluous carbonic acid, and leaving
the corpuscles free to take up oxygen. Thus
the corpuscles pass through the lungs un
changed, carrying back to the heart blood
as full of carbouic acid as they brought
from it, and they themselves absolutely die,
bursting in consequence of this load ot car
bonic acid. Dr. Mueller's remedy is the
injection of strychnia by means of the
hypodermic syringe, the application of arti
ficial heat, and the interference with the
tendency of the patient to sleep. He thus
sets up a rival dynamic force which fights
it out with the original poison, and if the'
antidote is applied in time, generally with
success.
Lesson of Experience.
Hatchet.1
Anxious Mother My son, that young
lady you admire knows nothing about
housework.
Son Well, mother, you know you don't
either.
"True, my son. Your father's brother,
however, married a girl who did, and the
money she saved was invested in real estate,
and they are now living in a brown-stone
palace."
'Oh, well, his fortune couldn't all have
come from that"
"Maybe not; maybe not But your father
and I are living in a rented house, and one
of our old servant girls owns it"
Perfectly Willing:.
Boston Herald. 1
Wife I wish you would push this baby
carriage a little way-
Husband Well, J will, if yon will carry
tfea baby, -
A Steady Team.
prrTSBrma, sunday, june i6, issa
HAUNTED, NEW TORE.
OliTe Harper Tells of Ghosts Often
Seen and Heard.
SOME ARISTOCRATIC SPIRITS.
A Ghostly Game of Euchre and Harder in a
Hotel Bedroom.
THE GHOST WHO COUNTED HEE DEESSES
rWBITTKT VOB TITS DISPATCH.
' 7t is not often that we get hold of an au
thentic ghost story, where the relator has
seen the shadowy spirits himself, or herself,
as it may be. I have heard many stories of
supernatural sights, but nearly all have ap
peared in some remote place and were seen
only by the aunt, cousin or grandmother of
some intimate friend of the story teller, but
there are ghosts right here in New York,
'several of them, and while those who have
seen them are almost as visionary as the
ghosts, still they deserve a certain consider
ation, and I now feel impressed to give it
Where the French Hospital has been, in
West Fourteenth street, there is an inquiet
spirit of some kind, and for a long time the
house could not find nn occupant who would
stay, and yet no one who has lived fliere has
ever actually seen anything. But in the
middle of one night in each week, there is a
sound of a woman's sobbing, a hurried open
ing and closing ot doors, a light footstep
running and the swish of draperies along
the hall, a heavier step behind, panting
breaths, a scuffle, a stifled scream, a sound
of heavy blows, a fall, silence; only broken
by a hurried descent of the stair case and an
opening and shutting of the front door,
and mystery, complete as to the cause of it
all.
A HAUNTED rZX-X-.
In Spring street is a well, covered over
with a slab of stone, and filled with rubbish.
This well is now under a shop, and I think
the number is not far from 65, but I cannot
remember it exactly. Hera the shadowy
spirit of poor Elma Sands rises once a year
and calls for vengeance on her unpunished
murderer. She was a lovely young Quaker
girl, pure and sWeet who was foully thrown
into this well many years ago, it was sup
posed by Levi Weeks, but the crime was not
actually proven upon him and he was liberat
ed. The case was famous then on account
of the prominence of his' family, and the fact
that be was defended by Aaron Burr and
Alexander Hamilton. She, poor girl, had
been of poor but respectable family and she
went out sleigh riding with him, her be
trothed husband, and never came back.
Quite a time afterward her body was found
in this well, her tender hands all bruised
and crushed by cruel boot heels to make ber
let go her hold on the planksand fall into the
icy water beneath. The history of the crime,
and how she was placed outside her door on
abier, in Washington street, forthe populace
to see her as she lay dead, is written in the
history of that day. Now, a sturdy German
carpenter works above the well where she
was murdered and never thinks of it.
In a pretty but old-fashioned house in
Stuyvesant Square ghosts like squares, I
think is another ghost This house stood
empty for several years, and about six years
ago a gentleman, his wife and little daughter
moved in there, and while fitting up al
lowed the child to play about the empty
attio which had apparently been arranged
for a children s playroom long ago. "Xhere
was a fireplace and a large fireboard in
front of it. When the house was about fin
ished downstairs "the mother began to pay
more attention to the little girl, and tried to
keep her down there with her, but the child
always stole away and went back upstairs
again and again, until finally the mother
asked why she liked to go up there so much.
She replied that she liked to play with the
funny little boy. Investigation showed that
it was utterly impossible for any person,
man or child, to get in. that place or be con
cealed there, but the little girl insisted,
and told her parents that he "went in there,"
pointing to the fireboard.
A MTJEDEB BEYEALED.
The parents were seriously concerned, be
lieving that there daughter was telling them
an untruth, and threatened to punish her
for it, but she insisted so strongly that she
saw and played with a "funny little boy,
with lots of buttons on his jacket," that
they finally gave up threatening and re
solved ' to investigate. The father, who is
an old sea captain, found out that this house
had been' occupied by an English man
named Cowdery who had had three chil
dren, two boys and a girl. One of the boys
was an idiot. This idiot was supposed to
have fallen into the Bast river, as his cap
was found there, and he had always shown
a liking for the river when his nurse took
him out Soon after this Mr. Cowdery
moved West
This was enough for my friend's friend,
who had the fireboard taken down, and short
work in the wallJbv the side of the chimnev
brought the body o( the unfortunate idiot
boy. The back of his skull was crushed in.
He still Bad the dark blue jacket on, with
four rows of buttous ou the Iront The poor
little bones were buried and the affair kept
quiet, bnt the Captain le t the house.
A lady whom 1 knew well, had a strange
experience in the northern part of the city
near Washington Heights. She was a guest
at Mr. Beeknian's bouse, and as there were
very many other visitors .the housekeeper
assigned her to a room which had belonged
to the son of the owner, and he was dead.
My friend was young at the time, and she
could sleep anywhere, but she found it
utterly impossible to sleep in this room, and
moved by uncontrollable impulse she got
out of bed and walked restlessly about the
room until 1 o'clock, feeling at the same
time a great depression of spirits, unusual
to a bright, happy girl. Finally she threw
herself into a large chair, and instantly felt
a pain in her throat, and a suffocation that
caused her to faint and fall to the floor so
heavily tnat the housekeeper and one or two
others came hurrying in. Later she dis
covered that in this room the unfortunate
son of the host had cnt his throat in this
very chair, and had fallen and died on the
spot where she fell.
A spook's passion fob deess.
This same lady, who is no visionary, but
one of the most common-sense women I ever
knew, had another curious experience in an
old-fashioned hotel which stands or did not
long since near McComb's dam. She and a
number of other young folks had been in
vited to a large party at a house not over a
half mile or so away, and the night before
the party several members of the lamilr re
turned unexpectedly from abroad, and there
was not room enough for them all. So a
young married couple and this lady and her
sister volunteered to go over to this hotel to
pass Saturday and Sundav nights. The
small hotel was quite full and so a room,
which apparently had not been used for
some time, was prepared lor the two young
girls. The elder sat up a while after the
younger was in bed, arranging her hair and
thinking. When the door opened noise
lessly and a lady with what she thought was
a peculiar night dress orr. and with long
hair unbound, came into the room and went
to a wardrobe in the corner and took the two
sisters' dresses and threw them on the floor
and counted all the garments hanging there.
Then she went, to the bureau and looked
over every piece of linen or other article it
contained, counting them in a whisper. So
life-like did she appear that mv friend never
dreamed of thinking her a ghost, not even
when she went out of the room and closed
the door after her. She was surprised at
such a curious proceeding, but no more.
The next morning was rainy and they took
breakfast there, and my friend saw hang
ing in the little parlor a photograph ot her
visitor, and at once recognized her, The
landlord's wife asked if iha "had slept well,
and my friend answered that she had,
though "she did not retire until late. The
landlady then asked if a had noticed any
anything unusual, and in Bbort the whole
thing was explained in this way. The
landlord's first wife had been passionately
fond of dress, and before she died she de
clared that she could never lie easily in her
grave if she' thought anyone else was to
wear her clothes, and that she should coma
back every Saturday night and count her
clothes.
A CURIOUS COINCIDENCE,
There was a very enrious coincidence
which happened a few months since right in
the house where I live, and which I find it
hard to explain. There was a lady of whom
we were all very fond, who had rooms on
the floor below us. She gave up the front
rooms and reserved another, into which'sbe
placed all her belongings and then went to
Alhany to visit a sister. A member of my
lamuy naa Been ont ana returned in the
evening at 10 or 10:30, when at the door of
this room he saw a lady in black. Ho was
obliged to pass her, -ana he saw that it was
our friend. He spoke to her and asked if ho
could be of any service, thinking that she
could not unlock the door, but she slmplv
bowed as if she did not wish to speak and be
v.uuia uu up iiuuu asionisnea, xnree aays
later her family came to remove all the
things. She had just died when he saw her.
He was not thinking of her at all when he
saw ber there, nor had she been ill but a few
hours, perhaps minutes we do- not know
that exactly; She died of apoplexy.
The only other authentic New York ghost
that I know of is that or rather those that I
saw, and others saw, in the Metropolitan
Hotel, in room 242. This room fronts on the
Prince street side, and must be described to
tell the story. The room is about 10 feet
wide bv 15 long and has an alcove for a bed,
adjoining the main hall, while a narrow
hall alongside of the alcove leads from the
room to the hotel corridor. The room has
but one window, and has a fireplace by the
ome ui me wiuuow, ana inev Doth tate up
the entire wall space. An old-fashioned
bureau stood, by the window on the left
hand, with the hall door as the starting
point A small stationary wasbstand is
placed between the door and bureau, with a
movable gas burner above it. A small, oval
marble table stood in the center of
the room, and a couple of easy chairs,
two plain chairs and a lounge
completed the furnishings of the room with
a wardrobe. There was no possible way of
any one entering the room except by the
door. I had arrived from California that
aay ana was tired, so after dinner I wrote a
few letters and dispatches and went to bed
as soon as they were sent To write these I
had to move the little table over close to the
washstand, and opposite the lounge which
stood against the wall at the right side. I
went directly to sleep, and I do not know
how long I slept when I awoke suddenly
and sat up in bed, and saw two men seated
at the right side of the room, one on the
sofa and the other on a chair, with the little
table, which I had left on the other side, be
tween them. The gas, which I had turned
almost out was full on and these men were
playing euchre. They did not speak, but I
knew the game by the play.
A GHOSTLY HUBDEB.
The man who was sitting on the sofa was
a thin, delicate looking man, dressed in a
light suit of clothes, with scanty reddish
hair and a straggling beard. His forehead
was unusually broad and high, and the rest
of his face so thin that it gave him a pecu
liar look. His hands were long and thin,
and the left wrist was misshapen. The other
man was stout, dark, with piercing black
eyes and thiok eyebrows. His hair was
straight, thick, short and shining, and his
heavy black mustache drooped. Yet I
could see a small triangularscar at the edge
of the mouth. His cheeks and chin had
that peculiar .blue, tinge that some men
have after shaving. He was handsome, and
was dressed in dark clothing. Thev played
out one hand and one tnek on the next,
when they seemed angry and quarreling,
though I heard no sound, and in an instant
the dark man drew a long knife and stabbed
the other one in the left breast. The knife
penetrated tohe very hilt. The wounded
man shivered a little, his eyes closed and
he was dead. The other one rose and lifted
up the inert right arm, drew it forward and
clasped the hand' around the knife, and
pushed the table closer until it held the
dead man's elbow in such a position as to
prevent its falling again, alter which he
gathered un the cards, put them; in his
pocket, and the whole thing disappeared.
I might give a long description ot my ter
rors, only it would not be true, for I was not
frightened, and lay down to sleep again,
thinking it was a dream, but in the morning
I lound the table by the sofa and all the
things I had left on the table upon the
bureau. Still, I did not attach great im
portance to this.asl had often waited about
in my sleep when I was young. All the
next day I was very busy getting my
steamer ticket and one thing and another,
and had forgotten all about it before night,
but that night I was aroused in the same
manner and saw the same thing and found
all my things displaced as before and the
table at the other side. The third evening I
spent wih some friends and returned at
abont 11, and almost immediately retired,
though before I did so. I tied a rone that
had been around my trunk fast to the leg of
the bureau and all through the supports of
the table in more than 20 knots, and piled
the table with everything I could get on it,
and left the gas turned up brightly. The
same experience, only that the rope was left
neatly coiled np and all the things put on
the floor.
' SEEN BY OTHERS.
Then I began to. feel creepy.
I tried to
get the chambermaid to sleep in the room
with me. she said she would ask the house
keeper as it was against the rules. Tha
housekeeper came to me, and in answer to
my questions as to whether anyone else had
ever complained of this room, she hesitated
and finally admitted that a sick lady had
once insisted on having another room. She
gave no explanations, nor did I, but I
thought I would give it one more trial and I
determined to sit up all night in the room,
but when it came on to 12 o'clock, I con
cluded that I could see from the alcove quite
as well, though it was not far away. I sat
down npon the bed for about half an hour,
and all at oneo the whole scene was re
enacted, and I must confess to feeling very
queer.
In the morning I sent for Mr. Adams, the
clerk, and asked him if any murder had
ever been committed in that room, but he
declared there had not, but in answer to
my questionings admitted that a man had
once committed suicide there. He had
been sick and despondent and so took his
life.
I then told Mr. Adams that I felt sure the
man was murdered, and gave him my expe
rience. He could not give the details of
the position of the body of the supposed sui
cide. I was then assigned to another room
and I promised to say nothing about it. I
went abroad and came back; went to Cali
fornia and returned; went South and hack,
and had almost forgotten the whole affair,
when, one day I felt absolutely impelled to
write about it, which I did and sent the
article to the New York Sun. They only
took time to verify what they could of the
story and published it This caused con
siderable stir, and brought out the fact thnt
others besides myself had seen things in that
room. A Catholic priest published an arti
cle relating to it, and saying that he be
lieved that the man had been murdered and
that as a punishment for his crimo he was
obliged to enact it every night in flep, aud
that it was a well-known fact that one mind
had more or less influence over another, aud
that his mind, freed from body, had forced
mine to see the tragedy. This seems to me
a plausible theory, or at least the most
plausible of any I have heard or can invent.
An English sea captain also published
his experience in this room. He had been
playing cards with a friend, and while at
the little table there, came an invisible
shower of apparently heavy articles down
on the table, scattering the cards right aud
left Another man had peculiar, but not
startling,, manifestations there. There may
be more returns riot in let
Qr4YS Earpkb,
MY
H H
BY IOTTISB
CHAPTER I.
THE newspaper which
Beuben Hale and I own
and edit is, I am aware, a
"one-horse" affair, but we
are satisfied with it It
is a small eighpaged
weekly, largely made up
of advertisements and
scissorings, aud the sub
scription price is $1 a
vear. We have no re
porters, we never print
telegrams nor murders, and we have a sub
scription list of 172,000 names farmers,
gardeners and country people, because
wherever there are people raising fruit,
truck or flowers, there goes the little Seed
and Graft, and we are old fogy enough to
employ girls to fold and direct these news
papers, and these girls do their work cheer
fully and seem to be happy. When oneot
them marries, we give her a sewing machine
and a dining room table.
One day I came into the office after an
absence of a couple of hours, and found
Hale scissoring the New York dailies.
"Dan," said he, ''there was a young
woman in here to see you."
"Very well," said I, getting a glass of
water; "you saw her, I suppose ? It -is as
hot as ginger outside, Beuben.
"I saw her," he replied, "but she didn't
want to see me. It was the old gentleman
she was after."
"Now come," said I, sitting down, "I
am not going to shirk the title, but you'll
have to take shares in it You can't be
distingnished from me by it, my boy. I
am gray, bnt you are bald; I am lean and
you are stout, and there isn't a six months'
difference in our years or our looks, Beu
ben Hale."
"Have it as you please," said he; "but
that is what she said she wanted to see old
Mr. Crawford. I think she thought me the
young one." ,
"Was she a blind young woman?"
"Blind," he repeated. "Just wait until
you see her eyes. Ob, she is coming backl
At 2 o'clock, Daniel. Even if she didn't
want to see me. I asked her to do that I
told her you'd be sure to be in then."
"Well, I won't" I answered. "I am
going ont to Melvin on the 1:45. I am not
goirfg to stay in town this sweltering after
noon." "Yes, you are. You.'ll thank your happy
stars it you do. If you miss her, Dame),
you'll break her heart, and after you have
seen her sh.e'11 break yours."
"I am going on the 1:43 train," I re
peated. "Bet you a .dollar you don't," said Hale.
"I told her to come at 2, but she said 1
o'clock would be more convenient, and she
wonld try to find you then, and, Daniel,
you had better take your feet off the chair
and brnsh that hair of yours up a little, for
here she comes. I hear the echo of her
voice and the patter of her heels in the out
office, where she has just asked Marvey if
you are in."
"Whaa dunce you arel I really think
" But at that moment the dooropened,
and Marvey appeared.
"Lady to see Mr. Crawford," said he,
stepping aside, and there entered a young
woman dressed very plainly in dark blue,
with a smoke colored vail pretty well cover
ing her face.
"Yon do not remember me. Mr. Craw
ford," she said. I am Miss Margaret Wool
stine. I see you very often in church, but
of course you do not see me, but you hare
to ," and she nervously laughed, "you
have to hear roe, you know."
"Mr. Crawford," said Beuben, getting up
without the glimmer of a smile, and with
great deliberation, "I am going to Melvin
.MOu.gaeii!!i.
The Attack on the Office of the Sill Beacon.
on the 1:45, and I shall have to leave at
once. Will yon kindly pay that dollar for
me on account?" He put on his hat, took
his cane, bowed to Miss Woolstine, went
out the door, and I heard him immediately
tramping up stairs to the composing room,
where I knew he had proots to read. There
were times when Beuben Hale was 16 years
of age instead of CO.
Miss Woolstine looked more comfortable
after we were alone, and she took off her
veil, holding it in ber hands,
"I almost felt as if Iknewyou, Mr. Craw,
ford," she said. "When I was a little girl
I used to sit with my uncle in his pew just
where I could see you as I looked at the
painted glass window, and now from the
choir, of course we have you in full view."
"And you do not think roe rude because
you su often catch me watching you?"
The girl slightly colored, "lou have the
kindest face in all the cbuich. I could
never think you rude." And with that she
became scarlet
"I will not say what I think of yours," I
said gently, "or you might think me very
rnde indeed, but can I do anything for
you?"
She crushed her veil tightly in her hands.
"I do not want to take up your time, Mr.
Crawford, but I do want to talk to you a
minute-. J have to support myself and I
want to get newspaper work, Mr. Crawford,
and I thought perhaps, yon would give me
some. It is so quiet here."
I looked at her with surprise. "I thought
you lived with your uncle, Mr. Masou?"
"I did, but we do not ogrce, and I have
no money of my own, and as I have to leave
there, I must support myself."
"But surely your natural resource would
be in mnsic, Miss Woolstine. Your voice
ought to he worth a great deal to you11
"I could not sing fnimblic," she quickly
answered, "The church I do not mind, be
cause I have gone there all my lile, bnt the
concert stagel oh, I could not do that! And
I would rather not teach. It worries me to
teach music"
"You would make a success in concerts."
She shook her head. "And," I continued,
"it would be for more lucrative than any
work I could give you. You would not like
a position here at all. The girls are good,
respectable girls, but they would not suit
you at all. Arid the- wages are low."
"I have my -salary in the church," she
said, "that would help a little, and I do not
want a situation with your girls, Mr, Craw
ford. I want editorial work."
"Ho, ho, editorial workl" I smiled at
this, "but you kuow Mr, Hale aud I do all
that and have time to spare."
"But I have helped you a little," she ex
plained, with .eagerness. "I have written
you several things, sad you have altfays
WmBU
MIS DELIGHT
STOCKTON.
published them. Last" week you mads an
editoiial of one'"
"So, indeed 1 Then you are "Mark Wil
lis?" and I nodded my head like a Chinese
mandarian, I have since been informed.
"Well, you are not only a very beautiful
yonng lady, but you are a clever one, too. I
don't know that we ought to refuse Mr.
Mark Willis."
"Ob, please do not" she cried. "I should
be so glad to come here, and I think I could
soon learn to be useful. I could cutoutpara
grapbs for you, and that must be such stu
pid work for you to do, and I could write on
what subjects yon thought best and if you
or the other gentleman wanted to go away
for a few days I am sure I could do differ
ent things for you. And," she added, "you
might both want to go away together. Sup
pose to-day you also would have liked to
have left town on the 1:45 train? Wouldn't
you have been more comfortable to have
known some one was here ready to receive
messages or attend to your orders?"
At this how could I help smiling, and I
told her that her reasoning almost con
vinced me. "Indeed," I added, "it would
do so but for two reasons; one, we do not
need you in' the slightest, and the other is
that this stuffy office is no place for a young
lady."
She stood up, and I could see tried to
look entirely indifferent, but her lips trem
bled, and her face paled.
"Of course then," she answered me,
"there is nothing more to be said, and I can
only beg your pardon, Mr. Crawford,, for
having troubled you."
As I sat still looking at her, it flashed
upon me that perhaps, if I knew more of
the history of this girl I should not so hast
ily shut the door upon her. And I have a
very strong feeling about disappointing
women. When I married, my wife and I
THE POWEE
had only a meager salary upon whioh to
live, and I grumbled enough because I had
to work all night and in consequence slept
nearly all day. X thought I was deprived of
mv sharp of sunlight and social life, and my
wife tenderly agreed with me. After she
suddenly failed in health and died, I dis
covered that she had worked in our little
house all day, and sewed for the shops at
night. It was thus she bought mj little
comforts. And now that she was dead and
could not share the comfort and repose of
my life, it seemed to me that becanse of her
deprivations I onght to be more thoughtful
of other women. Little enough did the
girls guess how often they owed some little
pleasure or indulgence to the mute pleading
of my wife's memory. Thinking thus, I
said:
"Are you quite determined on newspaper
work, Miss Woolstine?"
"Quite. And, perhaps I should tell you
that I have an offer which I can accept from
the Royal Express, although I have not
written for them, but I have just come from
there and they seem desirous of trying me."
"Do you want to go there?"
She flushed painfully. "No, I do not. It
is so .public. There are so many men
coming and going."
I rubbed my bands nervously.
"Sit down. Miss Woolstine, who did yon
see there at the office?"
"Mr. Finley, the editor."
"And you will go .there?"
"I think I ought at least to try it don't
you. It is one of onr best papers."
I have not described Margaret Woolstine,
and I do not know how to do so. She was a
lovely creature, tall, slender, with a superb
carriage of the bead, and the most charming
coloring. Her eves were dark and tender.
but pride and obstinacy curved her pretty
mouth, and I often thought that it could
not be pleasant to cross her will. But thus
far I nave never had to do more than ob
serve what has,happened to others who tried
to subdue and conquer her.
A3 she stood before me, so yonng and
charming and innocent I thought of my
wife who was also a Margaret, and I knew
she wonld not have allowed the child to go
into such a crowd as frequented the Royal
Express, and I said:
"Have you no mother?"
"I have only my uncle," she answered,
"and he is angry with me. My mother and
father are dead."
"Very well," said I, "someone must take
care of you, and I am going to ask you to let
me try lor a little while until your uncle has
slept his anger off. And although we do
not actually need anothereditor, yon can be
of use to us, and I want you to come."
Did she resent this half grudging invita
tion? No. She looked at me with content
and happiness in her eyes and asked me if
sho should begin the next morning.
When Hale came down stairs Miss Wool
stine was gone and I was in a little room
back of our office, taking papers out of a
desk.
"How is this?" he said with a fine affec
tation of wonder, "didn't you getoff?"
"Hale," said I. "we are going to have an
other editor, and this room will have to be
made ready for her at once. I think we'll
put a matting on the floor and make it look
clean and cool, and we'll hang a pink cur
tain at the window. This desk will do, but
we must get a better chair. If you will
plear our belongings out, I'll send Marcy
for tbo scrub woman and I'll go lor the
matting."
- "By George," said he. "are you daft?
What on earth are you talking about?"
And when I told him he listened, and his
only reply was an'occasional ejaculation of
"Oh, Lord!" but his intonation of that ex
pression never varied.
CHAPTER H.
It is very certain that had Miss Woolstine
gone to the office of the Royal Express she
would not have had the chance for house
keeping that we afforded her. With a
little white apron tied over her dark dress,
and an obtrusive duster'in her hand, she
very soon learned to keep us in very good
order indeed. But she had the rare, most
angelic talent of making that order , ours
and not her own. She never put our ink
stands in the .middle of the tables.. Mine
stood as I liked it, close to my hand, while
Hale's was at arm's length from bis, and
duc ucver lujjkcu u iciiio wibu fc.ie urab
proofs. If I put a book on a shelf I found it
there, dusted no donbt, but where I laid it
Life n our establishment was very simple.
Xheie tu ao rub of reporters, no lute
hours, no excitement over news. The)
flowers bloomed in the spring and we told her
how to care for them, and what to buy, and
we grafted, budded, ploughed, and reaped
without even as much as a harvest dinner:
to look after. Vainglorious old farmers)
sent us samples of prodigious com
and pumpkins, and market gar
deners didn't forget to lei
ns see their prize fruit and berries. Every
thing sweet and pretty went to Miss Mar
garet as her natural fee, and she it was who
opened the boxes of flowers, the baskets of
fruitand it was she who introduced the)
soirit lamp, and tea kettle, and who made a
corner in her little office where she served
our little Arcadian lunches of bread and
I butter, fruit and coffee. But it was Hale)
who bought the teacups and money enougn
must he have spent on them. There)
were not two happier old boys than we ia
the city that summer, and we never tired o
telling each other what an admirable peH
son Miss Woolstine was. She was very nsej
ful to us. Her style in writing was full
of sparkle, and her very notices of giant
radishes, or new harrows, had little gracej
ful terms of expression that took them out
of the common and made them readable.
She wrote our business letters, she scissored,
she read proof and filed it, she sorted tha
mail, she kept the water cooler in order;
she opened the exchanges, she took tha
most complete and unobtrusive interest
in everything, but with it all Bhe kept her
self apart with a gentle reserve that
made us greatly admire her. As I knew
her better, I saw there was trouble in he?
life, and I suspected it arose from her quar
rel with her uncle. He had been a father
to her, and she had left him and was board
ing in another part of the city. I knew
that it was impossible that ha should not
miss her, and she often spoke of her old,
home with a lingering tenderness that was
pathetic. Of the circumstances ot the quar
rel I knew nothing, but Hale and I agreed
that Mr. Mason had been to blame.
And so the summer wore away. Hale)
went back and forth from his house by the)
sea, and I came in everv day from my farpx
at Melvin, but Miss Woolstine stayed in
the city. We invited her to visit us, wa
urged her to take a holiday, but she replied
that she was perfectly well and that work;
suited her better than play.
Off MELODY.
"If we did that sort of thing," saidl, ona
day, "we'd send you to write up tha Tigei
Hill strike. You'd like that"
"Why should I care to go there?" sha
answered, coloring as she was apt to da
when conversation became personal.
"You are so much interested in mining
affairs," I replied, "I have often noticed
how you stop to read the Sill Beacon no
matter what you are doing. Let the maij
bring that and at once everything ia
dropped. Seel Your very eves confess
your giltl"
8hemet my accusation with as braves
front as she could command.
"Now come. Mr. Crawford," she replied,
"You notice that I read that paper because)
you are interested in it yourself and on tha
lookout for itl Pray do you also notice how
much I also like to get tha Orchard and.
Meadow?"
"I am interested in the Sill Beacon, "said
I. "because mv nenhew. Jank T.av! rm
t. lam also anxious 'to see what fool
thing he will do next. There never was a,
boy who so loved to stir up the wasp's nest
I.want to see what he will say when he ia
stung."
"And I," she boldly asserted, "am inter,
ested in those poor miners whom he abuses
so much."
"Abuses!" I repeated, "they ara a set of
rascals every one of them. An insane, law
defying crew."
"They are a poor, ignorant crowd oi
men, said she, "and it is our duty to edu-
cate and civilize, not abuse them."
"My dear," said I, "the United States
Margaret a Frlsoner.
offers refuge to the oppressed, but it does
not offer a free-fizht territory for outlaws,
and that is what these men ask of us. It i(
the duty of their c-vn Governments to edu
cate and civilize them. We do not aspira
to make our country a reformatory school."
"All that is true, but their own Govern
ments won't do it, you know, and,they ara
here. We must do it."
"That they are hera is unfortunately
true," said L
"And your nephew's paper says they
ought not to have schools where their own lan
guage is used. I think that unkind. Their
native tongue must be dear to them, and
they naturally wish their children to
know it"
"Then let them teach it to their children
at home, bnt in the pnblic schools of this
country the language of this country is ia
place. How else can we educatccivlliza
and make good citizens of them? If they
are to be part ot us, they should speak our
language, read our books."
"They will learn English. It is in tha
air, and they cannot help it But it keeps
the children and parents together if tha
children's school life is that which tha
parents knew. How would you like your
child taught in a French school, a languaga
and a method of thought of which you wera
perfectly ignorant?"
"If I fled with my child to Prance and
expected him to be a French citizen, I
think I wonld stand it Jack is in tha
right, Miss Margaret He makes a mistake
in not conceding more than he does, but la
this he is right."
J' You are fond of your nephew, and ara.
ounuea to nis misiaces, said she stoutly.
"I hardly know him," I replied. I never
saw him but once, and that is five years
ago. He is good-looking."
By that time the kettle had boiled, and
Hale came in with a basket of grapes, and1'
we talked no more of the miners nor of tha
perplexities thev presented.
But of Jack we did sneak, and to thn -nnr.
pok be.ote the day tiih oyer- xi mlnz ;
fiMW r '.- v...,....,ri ;.-A .... ,.