IS partiallj regained consciousness, but not to inch an extent as to recognize the facts of the situation. His heavy head stirred upon the girl's breast; his hand sought hers; delicately he lifted it to his cold lips and laid it down. "Zaharal" he murmured, "we die to gether. Thou art a holy woman. Pray thou for my spirit." There was something in the reverence of these words, and of the unconscious man's refined caress which impressed the High Priest in spite of himself. Those were rude times, and took rude forms among the highest of men and w men; the suspicions of the incensed father were lully justifiable but had he here the kigns of a coarse amour? Annas hesitated with himself for a perceptible instant, be'orehe spoke again. Zahara made the most of the instant; she clasped his knees, and clung to him, and made entreaty of him that would have moved a worse father than the High Priest to something like relent ng. "Let us from this ghastly place!" cried Zihara. "As thou art a man, and a priest, and as thou art a father let ns out into God's air! He dieth here within mine arms Lazarus dieth in this dungeon. Let us forth, O my lather, for I go not out without him, though I perish." "Girl, thou goest as I will," replied the High Priest icily. "Guards, take the lady, thy mitress. Deal with her gently, but if she follow not without force, lorce be it. Beturn Zihara tr the palace of thy father." Xow, tor the first time iu all the cruel story of that night, Zahara shrieked; and a goodly feminine shriek it was. The girl clasped her two beautiful arms stoutly about .her lover and sat like a sphinx, as if she were carren from the limestone vault Cry after cry rang from her lips like the appeals of a dying woman. Kebecca, hearing pierc ing sound', started the rumor that her mis tress was being murdered, and in a moment half the slaves and officers ot the palace were rushing to the scene. The scandal was becoming too public and too serious to be subdued. Annas uttered a holy oath, and turned upon his heel. "Out with the dog of a Pharisee then! Thtow him over the palace wall into the highway, and leave him to his fate. Take the lady Zahara to her own apartments, and be done with the abominable business, and hold ye your tongues about it, or I tear them by the roots!" This order wa quickly and deftly obeyed, Iiizarus and Zahara were literally torn apart, and thrust, the one unconscious, into the highway, the other, pleading and weep ing, toward the palace. The slaves scattered, terrified. The guards followed the miser able Princess. The High Priest and the young Levite were left alone. "Thou hast been to the temple and re turned?" inquired Annas. "And hast done the deed that I commanded?" "The deed was done," replied the Levite. "When I reached the Temple, lo, the waters bad been turned off Irom the hidden passage into the pools before me. Likewise some power had evidently opened the river con duit from the bottom of the passage into the Tyropcean sewer, for the flood receded with strange swiftness, even as I whirled my torch and looked." "Mysterious!" muttered Annas, "I under stand not the matter. ISb underling now serving in the Temple knoweth the secret of the conduits. Who had handled them?" "There is a tale that goeth among the priests," suggested the Levite timidly. "I scarcely know whether to bear it unto thee. But I did find a curious rumor stirring in the Temple." "I demand the whole of it!" cried Annas impetuously. "Tell me all they prated of, and instantly!" "It was s id,'" returned the Levite, hesi tating, "that a stranger did appear in the Temple. About the time of the turning of the waters, before I reached the Temple, though I ran all the way, as never have I run since I entered the holy service a man was observed to come forth from the under ground passage, and to cross behind the altar. One spoke to him, but he answered sot. It was the dim hour of the night and the lamps were low before him. 2To person recognized the face of the Stranger. He moved like a man having authority, and did wave them away with a gesture ot his band, so that they did take him to be a priest of great rank", and dared not meddle with him." "Where did he go? Who was he?" de manded Annas eagerly and angrily. "My lord." whispered the Levite, "who he was I know not; but some say that it was "Well, what then? Out with it I "Who was the lellow?" "He passed out of the Temple and into the open street," said the Levite cautiously. "He did walk as a man who feareth naught. A doorkeeper followed him, and regarded him, and sweareth by the God of our Fathers that it was the Xazarenc." "But that, we know, is impossible," added the Levite soothingly, "for the fellow is traveling and preaching somewhere yon der beyond the Jordan, I have heard the rabble say. At all events, he 13 cot in Jerusalem." Ttie High Priest made no reply. Towaid the middle watch of that night, Abraham, the servant of Lazarus, having been despatched by the anxiety of Mary in search of her brother, stumbled upon the exhausted man, lying helplcbi at the road side in a daik spot in the shadow of a tower, wherein it so befell that no person had dis covered him, either to molest or relieve. Lazarus had partially recovered his con sciousness, but his mind wandered still, and his phvsical power was at a very low ebb. Abraham managed to procure a litter for bis master at that hour of the night this was no easy task and took him home as quietly as was possible under the circum stances. Ueediug extra assistance, Abra ham stopped upon the way, and sought it of Baruch, the neighbor of Lazarus, who gaye it heartily, accompanying the slave and the bearers to the house of Simon the Leper. Martha was asleep; but Mary's sweet Jace peered anxiously Irom the doorway as the litter halted. Baruch hastily advanced and explained the matter to her. 'Mm one knoweth the cause of this mis hap," he said gently, "I cast off all. But much I fear that Lazarus hath been hardly dealt with. Say thou naught of it Thy brother is a man of eminence and the tongues of these times wag easily. Say thou that he is ailing, and keep all men Irom the doors till he doth recover." This caution was of the wisest, but it proved almost impossible to lollow the ad vice. By morning Lazarus lay in his own bed, a very sick man. Itumors of bis con dition, mingled with wild tales of strange causes for it, had got afloat Bethany was astir and Jerusalem gossiped. Talkative neighbors gadded about the hamlet, and messages of curiosity in the name of sym pathy besieged the doors of the sick man's house. To all of those the sisters of Lazarus re turned courteous hut dignified replies, indi cating their desire that neighborly service Ehould remain at a distance until sum moned, and expressing the quiet conviction that their brother's health would be quickly reinstated. By the morning of the second day the condition of Lazarus became so seri ous that Mary, more sensitive, and therefore less hopeful than her sister, was over whelmed with the acutest anxiety. She now gave herself entirely to the sick room, which she did not suffer herself to leave, even for the most necessary lood and rest Martha attended to the houe and to the messages from the outside world. The leading physi cians of Jerusalem came and went Ser vants moved about the court wiih velvet feet end silent tongues. Lazarus was sink ing perceptibly. Upon the evening of the fifth day of his illness Lazarus turned his lace toward the light and feebly opened his eyes. Between him and the casement a woman's face hung line an angers in a blurred cloud. It was Mary, his sister, patient and pale. The in tensity of her love and anxietv gave dark power to her eyes, which burned like flames of anguish before hun. Lazarus weaklv lilted his head, and observing the other per sons present in the room, indicated by a motion o! his hand and eyelids that he wished them removed. His wish was regarded, as the whim of the dangerously sick are, and Mary was left for n few moments alone with him, ashe seemed to desire. As soon as the sick, man, had assured him self of this fact, he clutched the hand of Mary with a distressing, appealing clasp, and tried to make over to her some burdeu weighing upon his confused thought. This, she saw, he found so difficult to do, that he despaired of it, and his effort and despair in tensified his evident suffering. Mary gath ered her wits, and thought swiftly. She knew little of the world and less of love; but even Mary had divined that a woman might be found at the source of all the mis eries which had befallen her brother. "Dear Lazarus," she murmured, "I un derstand. Whatever thou wiliest I will do for ber or for thee. Tell me her name." Struggling to articulate, Lazarus managed to breathe : "Zahara." "Zahara? Thou speakest not of the daughter oi Annas ?" "It is she." "What wouldst tbou, O my brother, that I do for this Z ihara ?" "Remember Zahara. Shelter Zahara." "He wandereth," thought Mary. "How should I ever shelter Zahara ?" But she answered, soothingly: "Dear Lazarus, what more? "What else desirest thou ?" Lazarus put his cold lips to his sister's ear and whispered one word a name. "Oh," mourned Mary, "we have sent for him. We send in vain. Messengers go hither and thither. They run at our com mind. He traveleth. He is in distant places. He cometh not Thou shalt live when he cometh. Tbou shalt not die. He loveth thee." The gray countenance of the sick man ex pressed a distress amounting to agony. He turned his head feebly to and fro upon his pillow with a helpless aud hopeless motion. "I did neglect him,' he groaned. "He will not come. I die. He cometh not Tell him " "What shall I tell him?" sobbed Mary. Her tears rained on her brother's face. She struggled to command herself and dashed them away. Lazarus did not answer. Ex hausted by excessive effort he sank into something like a swoon. The color of his face took on a morbid hue. Terrified, Mary stirred to call for help; but his hand held her in a clasp she could not wrench; Laza rus seemed to try to draw her back; his lips moved. She made out that he strove to say: "Love Forgive." With these, the two most solemn words in the range of human speech, Lazarus lapsed past the power of speaking. He lay ashe was in a stupor, all nignt recognizing no person alter this, and giving no further evi dence of consciousness. The physician hustled about, making great show of the ignorant art of their times. Martha wept noisily. But Mary sat as if she were turn ing to ice. At daybreak, without a struggle and without a sigh, Lazarus ceased to breathe; the beating o bis heart stopped; and Mary dullv heard voices saying: "He is dead." Martha came up and tried, with unusual gentleness, to remove Mary's hand. But the fingers of the corpse had grown rigid about it It was necessary for the physi cian to separate the clasp of the living and the dead. Now, the most distressing feature of this dreary and mysterious death was one which the sisters of Lazarus strove, as long as they could, to conceal from public knowledge, and, when tbey could keep it to themselves no longer, mourned over it the more bitter"y for that By that lasi interview Mary had been put in a position more difficult and more cruel than her stron-r self-possession gave hin; of to the consciousness of the dy ing man. It was true that the family of Lazarus had made every effort which influence, opu lence, energy and love could command to communicate with the Great Healer, whose skill they lolly believed could have averted their terrible bereavement It was also true that their messengers had reached him. The piteous fact was that Jesus of Naza reth had refused to come to Bethany. CHAPTER XXIL THE XAZAKEXE NOT TO BE FOTJJID. At all events, from whatever cause, and whetheror not the calamity could have b?en prevented, Lazarus was dead. His sensitive life had gone out like a candle quenched by a breath in the midst of the feast The torch-bearers stared in each other's faces and glanced into the darkness behind them with the sick horror that sudden death always produces, and more than any other, thedeath of a young and vigorous man. It is some how particularly expected of the young and popular that they go on living. The emi nence of Lazarus made his death a matter of deep public interest His social position, his influence, and his wealth added many a mourner to the crowd who poured into Beth any to pass with the sisters, Martha and Mary, the days of formal sorrow, by which it was the custom of their people to bewail the dead. Mary did not see the neighbors. Mary could not She had followed her brother to the family sepulchre, and had stood with bowed and veiled head while the body ot Lazarns was entombed. The burial ac cording to the habit of the country, took place upon the day of the death. Mary was stunned by the terrible swiftness with which everything nad happened. It seemed to her that death had literally made a snatch at her and torn the very heart out of her life. Mary did not weep. She could not She was ritjidwith grief. The love of sister to brother, when it excels its kind, is one of the strongest as it is one of the purest in the world. The love of Mary for Laz arus was a womanly, unselfish and now pititul thing. Mary had no life of her own. She had never known one. Since Lazarus was a little fellow and they played together in the court, the gentle girl had existed only for and only in her younger brother. Mary was the saddest girl in Judea that day. No, not the saddest There was one, but who remembered her? Who comforted her? In hours like these, what cries go up to heaven from the last and deepest anguish of unrecognized love? From the palace of Annas nothing was heard. Jerusalem throbbed with the death of Lazarus; but the palace gave no sign. The casements were closed. Doors were curtained. Servants were dumb. The High Priest was invisible. There were rumors that a slave had been punished or tortured in his princely family. These changed into a report that a slave was miss ing whether murdered or fled, who knew? And who cared? In the general excitement and sorrow the palace was dumb. For the cruelest of the gossip that buzzed in Bethany, the tongue of Malachi was re sponsible. "This Jesus this prater this boaster and sorcerer now we have the nature of the fellow put to test What was onr eminent neighbor Lazarus? His patron and bis friend. How hath the famous healer dealt with him? Look ye, my neighbors, did he answer the call of mortal need? Did he come to the dying bed of Lazaius? Did he stretch forth that mighty power we hear so much about and prevent this important death which has left sorrow in all our country? Where was Jesus of Nazareth that Lazarus or Bethany lies dead?" Alas, where was he? More than Malachi cast this significant question upon the agitated discussion of the week. The state of public eeing and opinion concerning the Nazarene had intensified rapidly, we may say, terribly, during the months of that memorable winter. Themost bitterly hated and the most tenderly loved man in Judea and its surrounding princi palities had now become the most perplexed and imperiled. Those who loved him most intelligently and courageously, and who shared the risks and excitement of his mis sion were, in fact, agreed to prevent him returning to Jerusalem, if tbey could. His gentle and merciful career had now passed tne stage ot pnnantnropy, ana taken on the hard name of political adventure. No longer was he looked upon as a harmless fa natic, an amiable sorcerer, a dabbler in healing, an excellent missionary. Sanhe drin and Throne had scrntinized the man. Priest and Prince watched him. The dan gerous title of revolutionist had become at tached to him. (7b be Continued Xezt Xunday:) FnoJt the parlor window of the Sturtevant House, Broadway and Twenty-ninth St., N. Y., may be seen all the bustle and hurry the pride and the fashion of the great city of New York. THE DKESSING THE FLT. Homemade Tacklo That Will Catch the Eye of Trout and Bass. FULL DIRECTIONS FOE A HOVICE. Description of the Flies Most Popular With the Gamey Fishes. IMITATING VARIOUS INSECT BAIT rwnrrTEN fob the dispatch. : The trout season is near at hand and every angler worthy of the name is spending his spare moments sorting over his tackle and preparing for the coming fray. To be a successful angler one ought to be able to tie his own flies. There are many occasions when an angler's sport depends largely upon his ability to imitate some in sect bait he sees floating on the water, which the wary trout prefers to his own supply. Then the fly-tyer is in his element. Under the shade of a neighboring tree he improvises his work-bench. His wallet is brought Tying the Flies. forth from his pocket and in a trice the bare hook takes the formof life and lures the vic tim from the pool. All that is required are patience, a little instruction and the proper materials. These are the implements that are needed: A small hand vice, a pair of spring-pliers, a large darning needle, a knif '. and pair of scissors. These, with a wallet or small tin box to keep the materials in, constitute the first part of the outfit. The requisite materials vary with the am bition ot the angler and the kind of flies he wants to make, The first thing that is necessary to a beginner is an assortment of hooks. For trout flies I preier the Sproat hook, size from Nos. 3 to 14, depending on the locality. For black bass my choice is the Sproat hook, from Nos. 2 lo 0. They should be Unmounted, so to speak, for the fly-tyer must snood his own hook as well as fashion his fly. After the hooks come the gut, wnpping-silk, wax, dye-stuff, tinsel, floss, dubbing or herls, wings and hackles, and some shellac The hackle is the long, narrow feather that comes from the cock's neck and body, over the wings, and you will find dubbing for the body everywhere. A bit ol fur or a tuft of hair'are easily picked up and should be carefully hoarded as the necessity for their use may come at any moment In dyeing your feathers, let me advise you to consult jour druggist Having got together this collection, let us first tie a gingu hackle, one ot the simplest as well as one of the most useful flies in the angler's clip. The fly will be used as a dropper. First, we will spread out the materials on our work-bench. They are a a medium-sized hook, say No. 8, some wrapping-silk, floss silk, n gingu hackle, and a short piece of gut which has first been soaked in water. Hold the hook in the position shown iu il lustration No. 1, in the jaws of the pin vise. Then lay on the wrapping silk, which has first been carefully waxed near the bend of the hook, making four or five loose turns around the shank of the hook. Lay the gut, which his been slightly indented by the teeth, on top of the shank, as shown in Fie. 2, wind it up tightly to the point X, where a bit of silk floss, tawny in hue and six inches in length, must be fastened. Take a lew turns of the wrapping silk up to the point Y in Pig. 3, following it with the floss, which increases the body ot the fly that is to be. Now, fasten the end of the floss at Y. and tie the tip end of the hackle to the shank at Fac-Similcs Bass Flies. that point with three or four turns of the wrapping silk. The under part of the hackle should be uppermost, so that its back will lie next to the hook when it is wound. Fasten the spring-pliers to the butt of the hackle to straighten it out by their weight while the winding is in progress. Now, wind the hackle around the hook, until the work has reached the stage shown in Fig. 4. With a few turns of the wrapping silk, which has not been cut since it was first attached to the hook, the end of the hackle is secured in place. Having done this lay the wrapping-silk (L L) in the shank of he hook and make the loop (L M). Then take three turns with the slack (M) over the end (L L) toward the end of the hook, and, holding it in place, draw in the slack (li M) and cut it off, making an invisible Knot The fly is now nearly finished. It the fibers of the hackle point in different directions they can easily be s.raightened out with the darning needle. Now, touch the head of the fly with a drop of shellac, X1 mm I PITTSBURG- UISFATOH, which you should keep carefully corked in a bottle by vour side, and when the varnish is dry the fly is finished. When you can tie a hackle you have acquired the rudi ments of tbe fly-making art. You may have wondered at the seeming prolongation or the gut indicated bv H in Fig. 2. The gut must be cut off at X, and, when an ornamented hackle is wanted, a piece of tinsel should be inserted before the floss is wrapped on as indicated by H. This tinsel is used for the tip of the tail of the fly, and is not necessary for the plain hackle, but it adds greatly to the beauty of tbe fly, and very frequently enhances its value iu practical use. Several turns of the tinsel toward the bend of the hook and back again to X, where it is fastened by the wrapping-silk, completes the operation. To tie a Palmer with a floss body, proceed as you did with the hackle, alwavs remem bering that tbe material you tie iu last must be wound on first Wind on the flms to Y in Fig. 3; next the tinsel aud then the hackle in the spaces left between the spiral coils of the tinsel. They are fastened with two twines ot the silk and the ends cut off iu the order mentioned. The head is made as first directed. This will give you a fly with the hackle extending the entire length of the body, broken by the silver bands of tinsel. A particularly heavy hackle can be made br using two hackles and tying as when one is used. The great Thaddeus Norris, the angler's famous monitor, very neatly describes the necessity oi judiciously choosing an appro priate h'tckle. -He says: "In choosing your feathers the length ot the fibers should be in proportion to the size of the hook, or rather the length of its shank. The fibers of the hackle, while they may reach the bottom of the hook, should never extend much, if at all, below it" All you need to know, now that you have learned this much, is what kind of a fly you want to tie, and you can make your wish a reality. In the two plates of trout and bass flies which accompany this article you will find all the models needed for use. Here are some bass flies: No. 1, the brandreth, has gray wings, yellow mohair body with gold tinsel, scarlet tail and yellow and red hackle legs. No. 2, the silver doctor, has vcllow and red wings, silver tinsel and red silk body, golden tail and blue legs. No. 3, the academy, has wild turkey wings, pea cock head body, and scarlet tail and brown legs. No. 4, tlie Governor Alvord, is made with bright brown and slate colored wings, peacock body and red tail. The legs are of brown hackie. No. 5, the white miller, has white wings, white body and red tail. No. 6, the scarlet ibis, h:is red wings, red body with gold tinsel and red tail and legs. No. 7, the grizzly king, is made with gray and red wings, gteen body, red tail and gray legs. Now a suggestion as to your trout flies: No. 1 is the black gnat The wings and body are black. When legs are used they are made of black hackle. No. 2 is the abbey, one of the most popu lar trout flies in use. Tlje wings are gray and the body is red with gold Fac-Simila Trout Flics. tinsel. The tail is made of golden hackle and the legs of brown hackle. No. 3, every angler knows, is the coachman; but for the benefit of the novice I will describe it. The wings are white; body peacock herl and legs brown hackle. No. 4 is the cow-duug. Use lead-colored wings, orange mohair body and gingu hackle lor the legs. No. 5, the grizzly king, is a famous fly, has gray mallard wings, green body, wound with gold tinsel, red tail and gray hackle legs. No. 6 is the scarlet ibis. This useful fly has red wings, a red body ribbed with gold tinsel, red tail and red hackle legs. No. 7, the pro'essor, has gray wings, yellow body and gold tinsel, brown hackle legs and red tail. No. 8, the queen of the water, has gray wings, orange body and brown hackle legs, wound the full length of the body. Benjamin Noktheop. A DUAL AT FAKO. Two Gnmbleri Who Flared for 8100,000 at a Single Sitting-. New Tork Herald. The two swell gamblers of New York in the old days were Pettibone and Cleveland. The latter was a Philadelphian, while Petti bone came from Tennessee. They had a faro duel one night They had been part ners in Philadelphia in 1857 and quit as enemies. They met at No. 8 Barclay street. "I'll settle with you," said Pettibone to Cleveland, who was a tall, raw-boned, ele gant specimen physically, "in a game of $100,000 at a single sitting." "Come on!" Cleveland replied. The green baize was cleared and the tiger had no combatant in sight bnt the two mid dle aged gamblers. At it they went Petti bone was a heavy loser in the first five deals, and began to grow white around the gills. The next deal he was loser to the tune of $80,000, for there was no limit. The seventh deal the nervy Tennessean madp a call for 55,000. He won, picking up $25,000, and by midnight he had won every dollar of Cleve land's money. They parted as friends and were afterward partners at Hot Springs, Ark. They soon bought the Blue Pig, a famous faro cottage at Cape May. TOM OCHILTKLK PAR1LIZED. Caterer Chamberlin Takei In Pa cm Bob With n Joke on Crotchet. New York Press. John Chamberlin, the Washington cat erer, has within two weeks broken .ground for his new hotel at Old Point Comfort, and it is to be completed and opened in about a year. He had come out of the Hoffman Houe with his lace wreathed in smiles when I met him. His smiles were due to an encounter he had inside with Colonel Bob IngerBoII. "I presume you have heard what hap pened to your old Iriend, Colonel Tom Ochiltree?" inquired Chamberlin, gravely, of the Colonel. "Another accident?" asked Colonel In gersoll, excitedly. "Oh, I hope not. That would be too bad. But speak out, man. What is it?" "He's paralyzed in his left crutch," said Chamberlin. "Pretty bad, too." The genial scoffer laughed untilhis rotund sides shook, and within an hour had told 40 (liferent acquaintances how Chamberlin had sold him. The joke was so good that John S. Wise, of Virginia, got bitten on it twice in ten minutes, and thereupon de clared that if he heard Ochiltree was with MiGinty he would ask no more questions about him. The Beat Amateur JtulI-FIghter. The most skillful amateur bull-fighter in Mexico, is the Bon-in-law of the President of the Bepublic. He is a man of great wealth. A Short Foein. Depew, '92. Keep Dr. Bull's Cough Syrup and you insure your life against a "consumptive's grave. "SUErrrAY; HSKOHT" 23, OPINIONS ON GHOSTS From Eminent Scientists and Stu dents of the Marvelous, THE MARQUISE DI LAKZA'S DREAM. Mysterious Experience of Cellar, the Magician, in China Seas. THEORIES OF THE THEOS0PH1STS fWKITTEIf FOR THE DISPATCH. 1 A group of questions relating to theoso phy, spiritualism, hypnotism, ghosts and other subjects connected with the super natural and the marvelous, was recently submitted to a number of men and women who have made special studies in those fields. The replies to those questions lorm an extremely interesting collection of ar ticles. The first set of questions were as follows: 1. What do you consider the best "ghost story" or tale ot the supernatural yon ever heard of? Will jou tell a short original story? What do you think of Bulwer's "House and the Brain;" of his "Zanoni?" 2. Do you believe the spirits of the dead come back to earth? 3. Do you believe in tha resurrection of tbe body? - A DREAM GHOST STORY. The Sim qnlie dl Lanza Relate! hd Experi ence Which Remlndi One ot Dr. Jekjl and Sir. Hyde No Ueiarrectlon of tbe Body. As to ghost stories, most people have a passion for them. I know I have. Those which I have from time to time written three or four in number I have dreamed precisely as 1 have recorded them, with the exception that I have given names to the characters which did not exist in the dreams. I never tried to invent a super natural story. I simply put down on paper what had come to me during sleep. As a child I preferred the weird tales of Edgar Allen Poe to all others; I read them yet. The "House and the Brain" is a marvelous tale, displaying a very high order of genius. It is by far the best and most complete thing of the kind I ever read. Bulwer's "Strange Story," too, always interested me. As you have asked me for a short ghost story, I will tell you an unwritten dream of mine which I call "The Phantom Doctor." I was spending tbe summer at Newport, where I had gone to recuperate from the arduous duties of my profession, when I met a girl with whom I fell desDerately in love. Her name was Emily Gibson, and tbe fact that she not only ignored my existence, but that she was already engaged to another man whom she evidently adored, did not in the least cool the ardor of my passion, and I worshiped in secret One night I had gone to bed impressed with that acute, mysterious sense of coming evil which sometimes affects the most phleg matic persons. I was roughly awakened after a time by a loud rap at my door. Springing out of my bed, I drew the bolt, and inquired what was wanted. To my utter astonishment Emily stood before me. In a few words she told me what was wrong. Her lover. Jerome, had been taken ill. I was a phvsician, as she well knew. Would I come at once and give my assistance? A SECOND SELF AT 'WOEE. When five minutes later I reached Je rome's apartment, I found him suffering from internal pains of great violence, the cauee of which I was unable to determine. He became quieter after I bad administered some morphine and presently fell into a Drofound sleep. Emily remained in the room, and as I watched: Jerome I saw that she regarded me intently, suspiciously. It cut me to the heart to think I was an object of distrust to her, but the mere fact ol finding myself comparatively alone with her at that silent hour of the night intoxicated me with joy. When I returned to my room my pulse was bounding with excitement For some time I tossed about unable to sleep. When at last repose came I dreamed a strange and horrible dream. I heard Emily's voice call me byname and summon me to Jerome's chamber. I rose and dressed and went down the creaking stairs to his door, which I opened. He was lying in bed and I myself watched beside him. No one else was there. Oh, how I hated him, and how I loved Emily I Howl loathed his very presence! A fiendish impulse came over me to kill him an impulse that momen tarily grew stronger. My body, standing on tlie threshold, saw my spirit cautiously measure a dose of poison from a vial. Then, with blanched face, I raised Jerome on his pillow, and, forcing open his clenched teeth, I gave him the deadly draught A look of unutterable horror came into tbe sick man's face a look I shall never forget. But fear ful convulsions seized him. He writhed in agony, and in a moment lay still and rigid. AWOKE IN THE HALL. A wild delight possessed me. I cried aloud and awoke. Good Godl not to find myself in bed at all, but standing shiver ing in the hall with an empty vial clutched in one hand, and the cool, gray morning creeping through the window. Por a brief space I was dazed, stunned horrified beyond measure. How came I here? Grad ually I recalled the summons in the night. The incidents one by one came back to me. I remembered I had remained below not half an hour. The frightlul dream rushed upon my memory. I know that I h.id deliberately murdered James Jerome murdered him because I wanted the woman he loved, and whose affection he had won, for myself. I had killed him wautonly,diabolicully. Drops of sweat broke out upon me, as this awul truth became Clear to my minu. a. snneKen uiouu anu made a wild dash down the stairs to Jerome's room. The faint gray light of the breaking day fell directly across his motionless figure. I advanced with a halting, staggering gait, and peered into his face. It was ashen. My eyes glared in horrible apprehension as I placed one hand upon his forehead. The touch chilled me from head to foot like ice. He was dead, unmistakably dead. Then I fled from the room, and lor a time knew no more. I will pass over the hours of desperate agony that followed. Suffice it to say that, although I feel perfectly irresponsible for Jerome's death, I yet knew instinctively that I bad murdered him. The empty vial, my unaccountable presence in the hail, my dream, all pointed to a shocking and loath some reality. I knew that on my soul rested the burden of this horrible crime. Then came the second chapter in the trag edy. Tbe trouble and excitement incident to the calamity that hud occurred in the house caused Emily to be utterly prostrated. I had not seen her since that fatal morning when I awoke to find myself branded as a murderer. Like a criminal I hid in my room, overwhelmed with sorrow, remorse, despair. Then I remember I heard that she too was ill, and that my professional serv ices were required a second time. The mis ery that took possession of me knew no bounds. I was in mortal terror now as to what I should do. I shrank from the possible path into which my other self that hideous phantom of myself might lead me. Yet I dared not refuse this summons. More dead than alive I found myself crossing the threshold of that dimly-lighted room. Again I pre scribed some remedy, just as I had done lor Jerome. All the time my heart went out to the poor suffering girl whose anguish I had caused. I loved her more than ever. I rushed away and once more sought forget luness in sleep, and once more I dreamed. I saw myself steal on tiptoe along the dusky corridor, starting back affrighted when I thought to hear a sudden footstep; then emerging boldly from the moonlight to the deep giiiom of the staircase I passed on to Emily's hpartment Through the open doorway I saw the interior, reddened by the lamplight that streamed in flickering rays 1890. into the entry. I myself, or my double, spirit or flesh, I know not which, sat by the sleeping girl, holding one of her hands iu mine. I stood rooted to the spot as if fas cinated. WATCHING HIS OWN Sl'IEIT. I watched myself as a tiger gloats over its victim. My breath came in thick gasps as I saw myself 'rise slowly from the bedside, and with an expression of devilish cunning pour something from a vial into a glass. I raised Emily in bed and gave her the medi cine. She began to struggle violently, as if she divined my purpose. I held her like a vise and forced the liquid between her lips. She choked, and turued upon me a look of abject horror, and I smiled smiled with fiendish glee. And then came a wondrous light and change. I was alone in my own room. Not in Newport, but in New York. 1 was not tbe phantom doctor at all, but myself. Do 1 believe that the spirits of tbe dead come back to earth? We'll, I find myself precisely in the position of tbe lady who re marked, "I don't believe in ghosts, but I'm alraid o them all the same." I do not believe in the resurrection of the body most emphatically not. That our souls are immortal is possible, hut that they ever assume alter death a human shape or human attributes strikes me as the veriest nonsense. All the ghosts people see are in variably attired iu the clothes worn during life. So we must in er that clothes have their ghosts also, which seems very ridicul ous. I myself would rather be resolved into the tail of a comet than put in flesh again after dissolution. EELLAE, THE MAG1CIA&. Mysterious Whistling: on n Steamship In China Sen Which Called Onr Royal II lnIonIt Home to Hin Companion. I think "Zanoni" is based on the stories of the Bosicruscians, who were suspected to be able to place themselves in two or three places at the same time and to prolong their lives almost indefinitely, or on the same powers ascribed to the Buddhist adepts in India, as for example Koot-Hoomie-Lal-Siug, the Buddhist hermit, who is supposed to be the "control" of Madam Blavatsky. and who is said to be over 2,000 years old. They say he can project his astral body to the most distant parts of tbe earth with the rapidity of thought Bnlwer spent some time at Simla, and no doubt based his story on the traditions current regarding this power. I think that T. Marion Crawlord also founded his beautiful work, "Mr. Isaacs," on the stories current in India re garding the powers of the theosophists. If I mistake not Mr. Crawford was associated with the Allahabad Pioneer, one of the leading English papers in India, on the oc casion of my last visit to that country. I will tell you a true ghost story, and one that sends a cold shiver through my frame whenever I think of it. When I was in Shanghai, China, in 1878, in company with Ling Look and Yamadeva (we were then traveling under the name of the Boyal Illu sionists), one afternoon Chang, the Chinese giant, Ling Look, Yamadeva, several ship captains and I drove ontthe Bubbling Well road to the Hermitage, a sort of rammer garden about four miles from the English quarter of Shanghai, and while there we all took part in a game of ten-pins. One ot the captains, a bnrly German, made a great many ten-strikes by throwing the largest ball in the rack. FELL BACK -WITH PAIN. This roused Yamadeva, and he also at tempted to throw the large ball, but in doing so he fell back and complained of a pain in the right breast We drove him back to the city and summoned an English physi cian, who pronounced it a case of ruptured muscles, and assured us that the young man would be all right in a few days. On the fourth day after the accident Yamadeva was apparently so much better that the doctor said it would be perfectly safe for him to go with us to Hong Kong on the steamship Khiva, which was to leave that afternoon. We all embarked, and about midnight on the first night out I was awakened by two piercing shrieks of "Kellar! Kellarl" These were the last words Yamadeva ever spoke, for when I reached his cabin his head was lying in Ling Look's arms he was dead. The ship's doctor said he had burst a Mood vessel. The captain of the steamer kindly consented to carry the body to Hong Kong, and the ship's carpenter made a rough coffin, and the remains of our com panion were deposited on the bridge. On the evening ot the second day, at about 9 o'clock, while the ship was calmly steaming down the Formosa Channel, Lin:; Look, Mr. Gray, of the Hong Kong and Shanghai Band, Mrs. Gray,a clergyman and I were seat ed on the deck in the alt, when suddenly there was a clear and distinct whistle ti-ta-tati-tati such as our company used among themselves for purpose of recognition. NO DOTJBT OP THE CALXS. We all were very much astonished, and more or less excited. Ling Look was very ninch worked up, and exclaimed, "That is Yamadeva whistling," and answered the call by our well known tioo-ti-ti. This was immediately answered by the correct recly, ti-i-i-i-oo. Ling Look now gave the first call, ti-tati-tati-tati. This was immediately answered by the invisible power with tioo-ti-ti. The calls were repeated by Ling several times, and each time the correct reply came from the air above. The night was clear and bright, and no one was concealed on deck, as every place was carefullv searched. The shin's officers at first made light of the affair, but when the whistling was repeated, and Ling Look would tell them beforehand what answer to expect, they became as much excited as we, and tbe captain said it was themost wonder ful thing he ever experienced in his life. Ling Look insisted on opening the coffin, to see if Yamadeva was really de d, and when he viewed the body he said, "Yama deva is calling me, and I must go with him." Poor Ling Look was taken sick iu Hong Kong and died in the hospital there, and we buried him beside his brother Yama deva. They are resting side by side in Happy Valley, the beautilul cemetery of Hong Jxong. ONE VIEW OF THE BIBLE. Theories Advancod br Eliot Conrs, the Eminent Naturalise and President of the Guomic Tbeosopbical Society Crime and Spirltnnllstn. First The New Testament is the holiest ghost story and best account of the super natural extant Eightly read, the books which compose that record of the divine possibilities of human nature, as well as its devilish foolishness in some respects, consti tutes, perhaps, the most instructive and valuable treatise on psychic science in exist ence. I wonder that it is not more generally used as a mannal or text book by our an thropological societies and our societies for psychical research. It is full of "white magic," and contains most precious truths, carelully veiled, like an occnlt teaching, from the profanation of the vulgar. It is badly translated from the Greek in many places, and lull of forgeries. But, making due allowance for all these defects, it is a masterly effort to set forth the fundamental principles of spiritualism and theosophy. Its connection with the earlier Jewish treatises on psychics is reasonable and logical, and it is u pity that both these im portant works should be practically lett to the priesthood instead of being expounded by competent psychist". Scarcely a word reaches the ears of the faithful conveying its real significance, or indeed with any intelligible meaning. 1 he New Testament is unintelligible unless it be studied in connection with the Hermetic. Gnostic and other apocryphal writings of the first three centuries after Christ, just as the writings erroneously ascribed to Moses arc a sealed book to allbut students of Jewish esoteri cism. How many Pittsburgers, for example, know that the account in Genesis is a mutilated fragment of an earlier Chaldean astrological story of creation, or that our traditions of Noah are derived from a simi lar deluge tablet? Second I believe that some of them do, and that more frequently than is generally supposed. I hold tbe cardinal point of the Spiritualists of the continuity of life beyond tbe grave, and communication between those spirits which are here in the flesh and those which are there disembodied. I go even a step further, and think there are a good many spirits of the dead that do not get away from the earth at least not very far, or not very soon. A good deal of the actual crime and vice of the world is proba bly due to the influence of these earth-bound spirits upon congenial natures here in the flesh. Third No; I have no scintilla of evi dence in favor of such an opinion. Re specting the single case of Jesus of Nazareth alleged to have occurred, I have no means of coming to any valid conclusion. All nature seems to say "No" to any such un verifiable hypothesis. LIKE GUAKD1AS AXGELS, The Spirit of the Dend Stay on Eartb, tsnjn Alrxitmlrr Wilder, tbe OcenltUt Edition of tbe Kitdemr. First Miss Anna Maria Porter, sister of the author ot "Thaddeus of Warsaw" aud "Scottish Chiei's," relates that during her residence in Esher, in Surrey, England, an old gentleman was in the habit of visiting her house of evenings, reading tbe newspaper and drinking a cup ot tea. One evening she saw him enter as usual, and seat himself at the table, bnt without speaking. She ad dressed some remark to him, but he made no reply. After a few seconds she saw him rise and leave the room without uttering a word. Astonished and alarmed at this conduct, she immediately sent a servant to his house to make inquiries. Tha reply was brought hack that the old gentleman had expired about an hour before. Prof. De Witte, of tbe university at Halle, in Germany, was preserved from deadly peril by the appari tion of himself in bisown apartment Pastor Jobann Frederick Oberlin, of Waldbach, saw and conversed repeatedly with his de ceased wiie. Second I doubt whether they really leave the earth. Human spirits do not part with matter and material conditions by the change called death. The nerxengeist, or lingham saniam still remains, and that is not quite distinct from earthy matter. They follow their ruling loves, and if these lead them to earth, or rather to esoteric manifestation, then certainly they "come back." Some, too, are protectors, ministering spirits, and the like. Very generally we don tperceive, much less see them; yet, all the same ther are about us and inflowing into our affec tions and thoughts. When we are alone, away from the presence and psychic aura of others, they sometimes make their presence felt. The objective manifest action, how ever, though perhaps more convincing, is inferior to tbe subjective, as the external knowledge of truth is lower than the Intui tive. Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, in bis bis little work, "The Guardian Angel," has admirably set forth certain modes in which spirits return, and he is right in his sugges tion that this corporeal vehicle of ours is an omnibus with many passengers. Third This phrase is absurd. It is not found or even applied in the New Testa ment. The resurrection or anastasis can only relate to what doesdie. Even Paul de clares that "flesh and blood doth not in herit the kingdom of God," or have any sort of station in it Jesus is recorded as proving tbe resurrection, by the names of the Hebrew patriarchs, declaring that God is not God of the dead, but of the living. The body is but matter seized upon and put to use, every moment wasting and being supplied anew. That which is dust returns thither, never getting into celestial or spirit ual conditions. Man was man before he was invested with it, and will continue sneb, perfect and entire, when he leaves mundane conditions. I AM, I WAS, I SHALL BE. The Kool Una Exlued Atwara, Now ExWti nnd Altrnr Will Exist Suggestion of David Greenleaf Thompson, President of the Nineteenth Century CInb. I might say that Bulwer's imagination has suggested some remarkable flights in "Zanoni," and it is a strange story, bnt so far as the connection with anything actual or scientific is concerned, or so far as they are to be regarded as contributing to our knowledge, I think the effect is wholly neg ative. Tbey do not contribute anything. "Seraphita," by Balzac, attempts to make a connection between the natural and supernatural on a Swedenborgian basis, in some beautiful descriptions in the book, bnt as a work of art the result is very unsatis factory. Balzac's genius is almost that of Shakespeare in analysis of the human char acter but it seems to have utterly failed when he has come to deal with such topics as relate to the supernatural or man's rela tion to the supernatural. I am inclined to believe that Bulwer's works on the whole are the best that we have. In my work published in 1888, entitled "The Religious Sentiment in the Human Mind," I have endeavored to set forth con siderations which tend to establish a belief in a future state, and in the continuity of a personal existence after death. I think there is a scientific warrant for this belief, and that the proofs for it are strong. It must be said, however, that if we believe in a future life, it is very hard to get rid of a belief in prior existence of the soul, and that, therefore, the doctrine of personal im mortality entails very largely tbe doctrine ot metempsyenosis, which is held by mill ions of the human race to-day in the East If I cannot be destroyed, I never could have been created. I am, I was, I shall be." 3, This is the doctrine, and it is much harder to overthrow it then superficial philosophers of the present day seem to thine I am firmly ot the opinion that we have a great deal to learn from the East; and genuine philosophy is not barbarous. It is much more profound than we have any idea of, and whatever may be the words and follies ot tbe preachers ot theosophy and of the kindred Eastern docttioes, it will be well for us to turn with some humility and a reverential spirit, or at least a spirit open to conviction to tbe results of the human thought as manifest in those strange Oriental nations of which we know so little and from which we can leam, I am persuaded, so much. THE SIXTH SENSE. Opinion of Seth Panconst, 91. D., no Eminent Student of the Cnbala. The spirits ol the dead can only return to us as au esoteric presentiment; materializa tion is an impossibility. It we see them it is in their spiritual form, recognized by the in tuitive sense. The physical eye cannot rec ognize anything but physical forms. To have access to the esoteric cosmos and its in habitants, we must have the laculties to per ceive it with. What would one know of tbe external world if his physical senses were closed so these objective nenral activities could not reach consciousness? He wonld deny that such a world existed, as would an unborn child the existence of its mother if it bad reasoning power. One whose sixth sense is closed sttnds in the same relation to the ex istence of the subjective world as an unborn child does to in mother. We cannot per ceive it, neither can we reason upon it We must, therefore, deny its existence, as the scientist does. MIND BEADING. Professor . D. Cope, the Scientist, Relates n aiyslerlons Phenomenon. First I know nothing of supernatural re lations by any but good observers and scientific thinkers. A person once related to me circumstances which had just occurred at a distance in my presence and of which no knowledge could have been had except by reading it in tuy mind. Second If there be a future life of the mind it has a material basis, but not the same as that we cow inhabit A ONE ST0KY COTTAGE i Plans for a Little Home at a Cost o Six Hundred Dollars. A SECOND STORY MAT BE ADDED At an Additional Cost of Two Hundred and Seventy-fire Dollars. EXTERIOR AND INTERIOR DESCRIBED tWRITTxS JOB TUB DISPATCH.! Considered from an economic standpoint, tbe building of a one-story cottage cannot be advised. The foundations will support an other story, and the roof will coyer it, pra tically, without cost. To phrase the matter after the delicious fashion of Hibernia, tha most profitable part of the cottage is that which is not built. Hygienic considerations, always of para mount importance, also condemn the one story cottage, because the sleeping rooms must be near the ground. It is very well established that the greater part of the malarial emanation Prospective of One-Story Cottage. from the soil remains within ten eet ot in ground and that none of it rises above 30 feet; therefore, it may be said, thtt tbe second story is a safe place for a sleeping room, the third story a safer place and tbe fourth and higher stories safest of all. Ac eminent physician of New Tork always advises "high" living, explaining very quickly that he means high from the ground. But one-story cottages are demanded, often by the inexorable limit of cost, some times because long timbers are not available and sometimes because tbe owner declares that his father lived in a one-story cottage and the same is good enough for him. The last reason implies something vigorous and admirable in the character of the father and always suggests the reflection that if the father were living in this progressive age and the son had been the representative of tbe family in the past generation, the father would not follow the example ot the son. The one-story cottage illustrating this ar ticle has the one merit of being considered pretty. Following will be found a some what detailed description ot it: General Dimensions Width, 31 feet; depth. Including veranda. 31 feet G inches; height ot story, 9 feet. Exterior Materials Foundations, stone; first story, clapboards; gables and mam roofs, shingles; mors of bars, tin. Interior Finish Flooring and trim, white pine. No plaster. The studs and joists are dressed and varnished. Tbe wall and ceiline spaces between timbers are filled with heavy paper secured to tbe sheathing; The under side of the attic floor is dressed and varnished. The tint floor Is varnished, intended for tha ue of rugs. Colors Clapboards, gable shingles and panels of bays, painted colonial yellow; trim, facia of cornice. framing of JU& -zA i.r..,r ,B ouAcrumis, i!oio$y 'JMnZ T::zr .. ,v y-fi .n-eiv'n SV.ISA' W (.. w . .-. i, fay T V t fay ty, anJiu. &l&u& First floor Flan. bay panels, veranda posts and balnsters. paint ed white: moldings, veranda rails, post caps and bases and ball terminals of bays, painted dark yellow: roots red; veranda floor and ceil ing oiled. Accommodations AH the rooms and their sizes are shown by the floor plan. Ho cellar and no attic finish. All interior doorways, ex cept the openings to kf tcben, intended for cur tains. Folding beds are recommended for this house and for all small houses. Feasible modifications of this design am as follows: Sizes of rooms, interiorfinlsh and ex terior colors may be changed. Bay windows mar be omitted. Walls and ceilings mav be plastered. Cellar may be built nnder a part of or tinder the whole house. A second story may be added. Tbe last modification suggested is the most important and an illustration is given to show tbe appearance of It. For tbe two-story cot tage the direction of tbe roof ridge is changed to run parallel with the greater width of plan. (The large veranda makes an exception to this rule in covering the one-story cottage.) The first floor plan is altered by making tbe hall one foot wider, by closmc; tbe hall door to kitchen and opening a ball door to pantry, and by building a hall stairway 2 feet 8 inces wide, to the second story. The stairway should start on the dining room side of ball one foot to the rear of the wide opening, and by twelve risers reach a platform over the pantrv, thence by four risers reach the hallway above. The second story plan may practically duplicate that of the first. bnt It is considered better to divide the r Frospeetive of Tico-Story Cottage. space equally between four bedrooms each to be 9 feet 6 Inches by 10 feet In size, planning closet for each room. When tbe amount to be expended is strictly limited, the owner is ad vised to floor the second story, but defer finish ing the rooms of that story until a more con venient time. The estimates of cost, based on ruling prices for materials and labor In the vicinity of New Yoric, are as follows: The one-story cottage, completras described. 5600: the two-story cot tage, complete as described, $S75; the two-story cottage, with the second story floored, but otherwise unfinished, $725. R. W. SnoPFELL. Reliable Dot Not Danserons. No one afflicted with a throat or Iune trouble can use Chamberlain's Cough Remedy without a beneficial eflect. It will loosen and relieve a severe cold in less time than anv other treatment There is no dan ger in giving it to children, as it contains no injurious substance. It will prevent croup if used as soon as the child becomes hoarse. 50 cent bottles. For sale by E. G. Stucky, 1701 and 2401 Pennave.; E. G. Stncky & Co.. cor. Wylie aye. and Fulton st; Markell Bros., cor. Penn and Fanlkston aves.; Theo E. Ibrig, 3610 Fifth ave.; Carl Hartwig,4016 Butler su; John C. Smith, cor. Penn ave. and Main st.. Pittsburg, and in Allegheny v7 ?? a-Heck' 1? and 1W Federa t.;Thoi K. Morris, cor. Hanover and Preble aves.: F.H. Eggers, 172 Ohio st, and FH Eggers & Son, 299 Ohio stand 11 Smith fieldit TSft k K
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