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PITTSBURG DISPATCH,
SHADOTOJF NIGHT,
"Weird, Uncanny Fancies That
Chaso Each Other in
Dreamland.
A GOLD CIIEST TBAGEDY.
Faces That Crowd the Walls in the
riayliouse of Childhood.
PAXTOMIME TO CfllLL THE BLOOD.
Imiitioai Statelj Structure Built on the
Euins of Living Hearts.
60UE0F JEEOMK E. JEROJIL'S SKETCHES
PVRITTEX TOR THE DISPATCH.!
I dreamt a very curious dream about
riches once that made a great impression
upon me. I thouihl that I and a friend a
Tery dear friend were livin; together in a
strange, old house. "We very fond of one
another, and we lived Tery happily. I
ilon't think anybody else dwelt iii the
house but we two. One day, wandering
about this strange, old rambling place, I
discovered the hidden door of a secret room,
and in this room were many iron-bound
chests, and when I raised the heavy ds I
saw that each chest was full of gold. "
And, when I taw this, I stole out softly
and closed the hidden door, and drew the
worn tapestries in front of it again, and
crept back along the dim corridor, looking
behind me, fearfully. And the friend that
1 had loved came toward me, and we
walked together with our hands clasped.
But I hated him. And all day long I kept
ever beside him or followed him unseen,
lest by chance he should learn the secret of
that hidden door; and at night I lay ever
awake watching him. But one night I
slept, and when I opened my eyes, he is no
longer near me. I run swiftly up the little
narrow stairs and aloDg the silent corridor.
The tapestry is drawn aside, and the hidden
door stands open, and in the secret room
beyond the friend that I loved is kneeling
before an open chest, and the glint of the
gold is in my eyes.
His back is toward me, and I crawl for
ward inch by inch; and when T am near
enough I kill him as he kneels there. His
body (alls against the door and it shuts to
with a clang, and I try to open it. and can
not. I beat my hands against its iron nails,
nnd scream, and the dead man grins at me.
The light streams in through the chink be
neath the massive door, "and fades; and
comes again, and lades again, and I gnaw at
the o'iken lids of the iron-bound chests, for
the madness of hunger is climbing into my
brain.
Then I awake, and find that I really am
very hungry, and remember that in conse
quence of a headache I d.d not eat any
dinner. So I slip on a few clothes and go
town to the kitchen on a foraging expe
diting. It is said tint dreams are momentary con
glomerations of thought, centering lound
the incident that awakens us, and, like most
i-cientinc tacts, this is occasioimllv true.
There is one dream that, with slight varia
tions, is continuallv recurrius to me. Over
nnd over again I dream that I am suddenly
called upon to act an importautpart in some
piece at the Lyceum. That poor Mr. Irv
ing should invariably bi the victim seems
wnlair, b-it really it i entirely his own
fault. It is he who persuades "and urges
me. I myself would much prefer to remain
ouietly in bed, and I tell him so. But lie
does notstu1v my convenience. He thinks
"" Tally"?) r"imi'e.f, and insists on my getting
lip at ones ai:d coming down to the" theater.
I explain to him that I can't act a bit He
nems to consider this unimportant, I
and rays, "Oh, that will be all right." I
e argue for a while, but he makes the
matter quite a personal one, and to oblige
liim and get him out of the bedroom I con
tent, though much against my own judg
ment I generally dress the character in
ray nislitshiit, thoDgh on one occasion, for
Jicnvpio, I i.ori p.i jamas but then that was
a swell part and I never remember a single
word of what I ought to say. How I get
through I do not know. Irving comes up
tfterwardand coniatulate me, but whether
upon the brilliancy of my performance, or
upon my luck in getting o'lTihe stage before
a brickbat is thrown at me, I cannot say. '
"Whenever I dream this incident I in
variably wake mi to find that tiic bed
clothes are on the floor, and that I am shiv
ering with cold, and it is this shivering, I
tup-pose, that ciuses me to dream I am
wandering about the Lyceum stage in noth
ing but my nightshirt. But still I do not
understand why it should always bs the
Lyceum.
Another dream which I fancv I have
dreamt more than once or, if not, I have
dreamt that I dreamt it belorc. a thing one
tomctimes does is one iu which I am walk
ing down a vcrv wide and very long road in
the IZast End of London. It is a. curious
road to find thre. "Buses and trams pass
up and down the center of it, and it is
crowded witli stalls and barrows, beside
which men in greasy caps stand shouting;
yet on each side it is bordered bv a strip of
tropical forest. The road, in .'act, combines
the advantages ol Kcw and WnitechaneL
Someone is with me, but I cannot see
him, and we walk through the forest, push
ing our way among the tangled vines that
cling about our feet, and every now and
then, between the giant tree "trunks, we
catch glimpses of the uoisy street.
At the end of this road there is a narrow
turning, and when I come to it I am afraid,
though I do not know w liv I am afraid. It
leads to a house that I once lived in when a
child, and now there is someone waiting
there who has something to tell me.
I turn to run awav. A Blackwall 'bus is
passing, and I try to overtake it. But the
horses tarn into skeletons and gallop awav
lrom me, and my feet are like lead, and the
thing that is with ute, and that I cannot see,
seizes me by the arm and drags me back.
It forces me along and into the house, nnd
the door slams to behind us, and the sound
echoes through the lileless rooms. I recog
nize the rooms; I lhcd and laughed and cried
in them long ago. Nothing is chang!. The
chairs stand in tlieir places, empty, Aly
mother's knitting lies upon the hearthrug,
where the kitten, I remember, dragged it
somewhere back in the sixties.
I go up into my own little attif. My cot
stands in the corner, and my bricks lie
tumbled out upon the floor il"vas nlw.ivs
an untidy child). An old man enters an
old, bent, witheied man holding a lamp
above his head, and I look at his face, aud
it is my own face. And another enters,
and he also is myself. Then more aud
more, till the room is thronged with faces
and the stairway be3ond and all the silent
house. Some oi the facts are old and
others young, and some are fair and smile
at me, and many are foal and leer at me.
And every laca is my own lace, but no
two of them are alike.
I do not know whv the sight of myself
should alarm in'e so" hut I rush from the
house in terror and the faces follow me;
end I rnu faster and faster, but I know that
I bliall never leave them behind me.
As a rule one is the hero of one's own
dreams, but at times I have dreamt a
dream entirely in the third person a
dream with the incidents of which I have
had no connection whatever, except as an
unseen ami impotent spectator. One of
these I have often thought about since,
'wondering it it could not beworked up into
e. story. But, perhaps, it would be too
painiui a iiieine.
strange beauty in it. I see it come and go,
moving in and out among the Bhadoivs.
The flickering gleams thrown by street
lamps flash down upon it, shoving the
wonder of its evil fairness. Then the
lights go out I see it next in a place that
is very far away, and it is even more beau
tiful than before, for the evil has gone out
of it Another face is looking down into it,
a young, pure lace. Che faces meet and
kiss, and, as his lips touch hers, the blood
mounts to her cheeks and brow.
I see the two face3 again. But I cannot
tell where they are or how long a time has
passed. The lad's face has grown a little
older, but it is still young and fair, and
when the woman's eyes resf upou it there
comes a glory into her face so that it is like
the face of an angel. But at times the
woman is alone, and then I see the old evil
look struggling to come back again.
Then I see things clearer. I see the room
in which they live, It is very poor. An
old-fashioned piano stands in one corner,
and beside it is a table ou which lie scat
tered a fumbled mass of papers round an
inkstand.' An empty chair waits before the
table. The woman sits by the open window.
She seems to be sitting there, for a long
while. From far below there rises the
sound of a great city. Its lights throw up
faint beams into the dark room. The smell
of its streets is in the woman's nostrils.
Every now and then she looks toward the
door and listens. Then turns again to the
open window. And I notice that each time
she looks toward the door the evil in her
face shrinks back; but each time she turns
to'the open window it grows more fierce
aud sullen.
Suddenly she starts up, and there is a
terror in her eves that frightens me as I
dream, and I see great beads of sweat upou
her brow. Then, very slowly, her lace
cnanges, ana x see again ine evil creature
of the night She, wraps around her an old
cloak and creeps out I hear her footsteps
going down the stairs. They grow fainter
aud fainter. Then it seems as if a door were
opened, so that the roar of the streets
rushes up into the house and the woman's
footsteps are swallowed up.
Time drifts onward through my dream.
Scenes change, take shape and fade; but all
is vague and undefined, until, out of the
dimness, there fashions itself a long, de
serted street The lights make glistening
circles on the wet pavement A figure,
dressed in gaudy rags, slinks bv, keeping
close against the wall. Its back is toward
me, and I do not see its face. Another fig
ure glides from out the shadows. I look
upon its face, aud I see it is the face that
the woman's eyes gazed up into and wor
shiped long ago, when my dream was just
begun. But the fairness and the in
nocence are gone from out of it.
and ic is old and evil, like the
woman's when I looked upon her last
The figure iu the gaudy rags moved slowly
on. 'Ihe second figure follows it, and over
takes it. The two pause and speak to one
another as they draw near. The street is
very dark where they have met, and the
figure in gaudy rags keeps its face still
turned aside. They walk on together, side
by side, in silence, till they come to where
a flaring gas lamp hangs before a tavern;
and there the woman turns, and I see that
it is the. woman of my dream. And she and
the man look into each other's eyes once
more.
Iu another dream that I remember, an
angel (or a deil, I am not quite sure
which) has come to a man and told him
that so long as he loves no living human
thing so long as he never sutlers, himself
to leel one touch ot tenderness toward wife
or child, toward kith or kin. toward
stranger or toward friend, so long will he
succeed anil prosper in his dealings so
long will all this world's affairs go well
with him; aud he will grow each day richer
and greater and more powerful. But if
ever he let one kindly thought for living
thing to come into his heart, in that mo
ment all his plans and schemes will topple
down about his ears; and from that hour
his name will be despised by men, and then
forgotten.
Andthe man treasures up these words,
for he is an ambitious man, and wealth and
fame and power are the sweetest things in
all the world to him. A woman loves him
and dies, thirsting for a loving look from
him; children's footsteps creep into his life
and steal away again; old laces fade and
new ones come and go.
But never a kindly touch of his hand rests
on any living thing; never a kindly word
comes lrom his lips; never a kindly thought
springs from his heart. And in all his
doings fortune favors him.
The years pas: by, and at last there is left
to him only one thine that he need fear a
child's small, wistful face. The child loves
him, as the woman, lon-j ago, had loved
him, and her ejcslollow him with a hungry,
beseeching look. But he sets his teeth aud
turns away lrom her.
The little face grows thin and white, and
one day they come to him where he sits
belore the key board of his many enter
prises, and tell him she is dying. He conies
and stands beside the bed, "aud the child's
eyes open and turn toward him; and as he
draws nearer her little arms stretch out
toward him, pleading dumbly. But the
man's face never changes, and the little
arms fall ft-ebly back "upon tl.e tumbled
coverlet, and the wistful eyes grow still,
and a woman steps softly forward and draws
the lids down oer them; then the man goes
back to his plans and schemes. But in the
night, "when the great house is silent, he
steals up to the room where the child still
lies, and pushes back the white, uneven
sheet,
"Dead dead," he mutters. Then he
takes the tiny corpse up in his arms, aud
noius it iigni against nis oreast, and kisses
the cold lips, aud the cold cheeks aud the
little cold, stilf hands.
And at that point my story becomes im
possible, for I dream that the little dead
child lies always beneath the sheet in that
quiet room, and that the little face never
ciianges, nor the little white-robed limbs
decay.
I puzzle about this for an instant, but
soon forget to wonder; for when the Dream
Fairv telb us tales we are only as little
children, sitting around with open eyes, be
lieving all, though marveling that such
things should be.
Each night, when all else in the great
house sleeps, the door of that room opens
noiselessly, and the man enters and closes
it behind him gently. Each night he draws
away the white sheet, aud takes the sm.nll
i dead body in his arms; and through the
uars uours ne paces soitly to and fro, hold
ing itclose against his breast, kissing it and
crooning to it, like a mother to her sleeping
baby. r b
"When the first rays of dawn peep Into the
room, he lays the dead child back again,
and smoothes the sheet above her, and
steals away.
And he succeeds and prospers In all
things, and each dav he grows richer aud
greater and more powerful.
Jerome K. Jerome.
ANNIE LAURIE'S HOME.
A Visit Shocks the'Bomance Oat of
the Ballad Heroine's Life.
SHE DEVELOPED INTO A GOSSIP,
And Even Degenerated So Far as to Take
the Titillating Snuffi
LETTERS FBOJI EER DESCENDANTS
rwIUTTKf FOR TnK DISPATCH. I
llaxwelltown's braes are bonnie
Whore eaily la's the dew;
And 'twas there that Annio Laurie
Gied mo her promise true;
.fnrl ..... l.r... ....n.Mt. .......
J.n4 1110 I1CL JI11I11113U H 1IU
That ne'er lorgot wart he.
And for bonnie Annie Laurts
a I'd lay me down and dee!"
William Douglas.
Imagine Annie Laurie, of the immortal
song, old and wrinkled, taking snufl from a
Sevres "sneezin' mull" with a miniature of
Prince Charlie painted on its porcelain lid!
Or fancy Douglas, of Fingland, grizzled and
gouty, laughing over the youthful folly
that impelled a hard-drinking Jacob
ite laird to write love-lyric3 on the girl of
his fancy!
Yet, prosaic as these pictures may appear,
history proves them true. The Annie Lau
rie of romance was a commonplace gentle
woman in real life; and so far from keen
ing her "promise true, "she faithlesslyjilted J
the heroine of the song hearing her namo can
be proven beyond doubt by any one, who
tikes the trouble to look throuzh .the old
papers now at Ciatedarroch nnd Maxwell
town. The song, written by William Dons
las, of Fingland, Arse appeared In an Edin
burgh newspaper, and created quite a sensa
tion. Douglas was an adherent or the ex
iled Stuarts, while Sir Robert Laurie, father
of Annie, was a canny gentleman who be
lieved in standing by the stronger side.
Douglas first met Aunfe at a ball In Edin
burgh and was greatly struck by her beauty.
A lore affair spiangup, to check which Sir
Kouert Lnurie carried his daughter hack
to Nlthsdale. 'i'hlthor, however, Dong
las followed, and for months the
lovers met clandestinely in the
woods and braes around JIftxwelltown.
Finally the rumor of an impend
ing Stuait invasion lured Douglas
back to tho capital, but tradition has it that
on tho night before his departure he wroto
tho ballad or "Annie Laurie." As well as I
can recollect, tho old version of the song
differed little either in words or air from
that now in uso Douglas' trip to Edin
burgh proved fatal to his loye affair. His
Jacobite intrigues wero suspfcted. and ho
was loiced to fly to the low countiies.
Whether ho conesponded with Annie Laurie
from tliii Continent, or left hr without news
of his whereabouts'. I know not. At any
late. Annie was not inconsolable for his loss.
She amusod herself with several love affairs,
nnd finally married Alexander Fergnsson,
laird of Cruigriarioch. Fergusson was not a
poor, but his estates wnio lare and his fam
ily old us the hill-. With him Annie Lam ie
lived long and happily. Douglas obtained
pardon from tho oovernment and leturned
to Scotland, but there i9 no tradition of his
everagain meeting Annie Laurie. She sur
vived her husband and hoenmo the lady
bountiful of Xithsdale. Under her din-c-tiim
tho present mansion of Craigdarroch
was built, nnd a relic of her taste is still nre
seivcdin the lorin.il Georgian Hardens in
tho rear of tho house.
A Chbly Mention of Her Lover.
In her old ago she became a notable match
rnaker, probab'y using ho r own experience
in the selection of husbands lor the young
DUTIES OF THE PARISH.
EeT. George Hodges PoinisOut a Few
of the Kight Things to Do.
MAKING THE CHURCH ATTRACTIVE.
Folk Who Go to Worship Without
ing to Iheir Neighbors.
"pealc-
FACT3 ABOUT THE CONTBIBOTIONS
1 ' -' - " uZsZ tsi ..... I Mw
CRAIGDARROCH, TIIE HOME OF ANNIE LAURIE.
the rhyming wooer to wed a wiser and
wealthier man.
Beyond the confines of her own quiet cor
ner of Scotland, the true story of Annie
Laurie has seldom traveled. That "Star
spangled Scotchman," even, Jlr. Andrew
Carnegie, in his "Four-in-Hand in Britain,"
expresses considerable surprise at discover
ing a descendant of Annie's in Dumfries
shire. Carnegie In Touch With the Poem.
"While we were at the mansion of Friars'
Corse," he says, "a great-great-grand-daughter"of
Annie Laurie actually came in.
I know of no young lady whose Acestress
is so widely and favorably known. "We
were all startled to be brought so near the
ladiei of her acquaintance. She was very
fond of letter writing: but In all her cone
spondence which I lutve seen, there is only
one reference to William Douglas. Her
cousin, Mrs. Itiddel, or Glenridde), had men
tioned seeing Douzlas at n ball in Kdln
bumh. 3Ir. Forgusson wrote in reply: "I
trust ho has forsaken his treasonable opin
ions, and that he is content." .Very unro
niuutically she dismisses her old lover with
that sentence, and proceeds to dwell upon
the coming nuptials of one of her uteres.
She died in tho year 1761 at the age of 79, and
was buried in tho old graveyard at Craig
darroch. Portraits of her are preserved at
Maxwelltown. and at Mansfield, the seat of
Sir C. Stuart Enteith.
In appearance, she was slender and grace
ful, with large blue eyes and brown hair,
which slio never powdered In spite ot tho
fashion of tho times. Her laco ecms to
have been rather long, nnd her leatares fol
lowed the Grocian type. Tradition has it
that her feet anc hands were very small, so
that Douglas'bt'autitul simile of "dew on the
govian lying" had some foundation iu fact.
Most Charinin
wniTTiif roa Tire dispatch, l
Every Christian ought to be in a parish.
Every good man and every good woman
ought to have a church of their own, at
which they attend service two times every
Sunday.and with which thev are thoroughly
identified. Any other condition of living is
altogether abnormal and unnatural. It is
true that there are a good many Christians
who are not in any parish. It is also true
that there are a good many persons who are
not in any family. Some people live in
hotels; some people live in lodging houses;
some people live in the street. Neverthe
less the ideal social life is lived in the fam
ily, and the ideal religious life is lived in
their larger family which we call the parish.
Every Christian ought to be in a parish.
Wherever you find a Christian who is not
in a parish, you may be sure that something
is the matter either with the parish or with
the Christian.
"Very often the fault is with the parish.
There are some parishes in which the front
daor ot the parish church is so constrnctcd
that it will admit only a certain peculiar
kind of people. The front door is built
down so low that only the very short people
can get in; or else it is made so exceedingly
narrow that only the thin people can get in;
or else it is away up so high in the air that
only the very tall people can climb in over
the threshold.
All Tilings to All Men. '
That is to say, there are some churches
that seem to be managed on the principle of
keeping out as many people as possible.
Whereas, the ideal church ought to be big
enough to take in all the people. And the
ideal house of worship ought to be set four
square with three doors on every side, as in
the vision of the Bcvelation. The ideal of
every minister of a parish ought to be to
accomplish, that, feat which St. Paul was
always desiring to accomplish in his own
ministry. St. Paul said that there was
nothing to be desired more than to be able
to carry water on both shoulders. That is
what every parish priest ought to try to do,
to be ''all things to all men," so that in
some way he may gain some. There ought
to be.a place in the parish church for every
honest man and woman in the world.
Sometimes, however, the fault is in the
man; the Christian has something the matter
with him. Dr. Parkhurst, who is taking
that place in New York City to-day which
was filled in old Jerusalem by these grand
preachers, the prophets, by Isaiah and
Jeremiah, said the other day that there are
just two possible explanations ot the failure
of the municipal authorities of New York
to cope with the wickedness of that ritv
they are either corrupt or they are incom-
far from realizing how much part they hava
in the sermons. At least half of the success
of a sermon, half of its efficiency, depends
upon the hearers. The very best sermon
that could be preached by "the very best
preacher would be sure to fail of its pur
pose if preached to an inattentive congre
gation. The nearer"! Tart In Preachlnj.
Somebody said to a preacher, recounting
the good old times: "We used to have
great preachers in this part of the country
40 or 60 years ago," to which the exasper
ated preacher replied: "Yes, and great
hearers." That was the reason for th
great preaching. The presence of the con
gregation also helps the people. It is a
singular trait of human nature, which we
all recognize, that people desire to get into
the place where they are in danger of find
ing no seat all. . So that everybody who
comes helps.
The Christian, however, is not content
with taking his part in the parish worship.
He does not consider himself a good Christ
ian because he goes to church twice on
Sunday. He takes his share in the parish
work. He does that in one wav by giving
his money ih the offerings of the "church.
Because mpney is condensed work. Money
is the medium of exchange. It represents
the values of the things which we barter,
and those values ought to be acquired
by reason of the work that hxs been ex
pended. Money, accordingly, ought to
represent condensed work. Sometimes it
does not. Sometimes money represents
condensed falsehood. Sometimes it means
concentrated stealing. I heard the other
day 'of a parish in Turkey,.an Armenian
Chnrch, which is supported altogether by
robbers. These men go off in their expedi
tions, and when they make a fortunate haul
they contribute a percentage of it to the
church, so that it is entirely supported by
robbers. Let us, however, believe that the
great majority of the money that goes into
church on the alms basin is honest money
that it does represent work.
Studying a Chnrch Contribution.
It does not always represent very much
work. One of the most interesting studies
to one who has time to pursue it is the study
of the Sunday contributions. Somebody
said that otten in looking over a congrega
tion hensked: "Where are the poor?" and
then when he came to look over the offering
he wondered "Where are the rich?" No
one can tell, of course, what all the money
in an offering means. The other day I
studied an offering taken for the poor of the
Earish, for charitable work in the neighbor
ood and community, and in the offering
there were 158 5-oent pieces. Now, that
number really does not tell us anything.
Some of these 5-cent pieces may have repre
sented $5 in the books of God. Some of
them may have represented $500 in the coin
age of heaven. I have no doubt that a good
many of them meant more than 5 cents. And
yet I am equally sure that a good many of
them did not mean acything at all, got no
credit whatever in the celestial ledgers, be
cause all that they represented was care
lessness. Some of the men who gave 5 cents that
morning did not sav to themselves: Now,
here is an offering for the poor of the par
ish, here is an opportunity for me to do
some work for the poor; how much work
can I do now? how much concentrated
work can I put into the alms basin fcr that
worthy purpose? He did not say that aud
then gave 5 cents. Some of the people saw
the plate coming anil put that money in be
cause they did not like to be seen passing
it by.
One Die of the Three-Cent Piec.
I was rejoiced to find only one 3-cent
piece in the offering that morning. For
the d-cent piece, as we all know, is coined
Annie Isiurie't Great-Great-Granddaughter.
THE SHANGHAI CHAEACIEE.
A Farmer's Opinion or iho Chiclcn Based
on Elaborate Experience.
Shanghai chickens are born with an in
ordinate pair of legs, which continue to
grow into regular drumsticks of the longest
dimensions. It is said that although good
layers, they are very fond of devouring
their own eggs. A farmer who has tried
them and found them wanting, gives the
following account of their peculiarities.
Their true name, he says, is "Shank-high,"
and he pronounces them rightly named.
They have no body at all, and when the
head is cut off the legs come right apart. I
don't see how they can set on their eggs
my jack-knife cau set as well as they can.
They don't sit on the roost the same as
other chickens do; not a bit of it. When
they attempt to sit as other chickens do,
they fall off backward. Thev sit when they
eat, I know, for I've seen 'em do it And
I've seen 'em try to eat standing, but they
couldn't fetch it; for when they peck at a
grain of corn on the ground, they don't
more'n half reach it, but their head bobs
right between tlieir legs and makes 'em
turn a complete somerset I'd as soon see
a pair of tongs or compasses walking about
my yard as these ehauk-highs.
j.ney crow, too, a long time before day,
when it. isn't. flllV "Prntt1.1.r Iib..iiib thai.
j. uicam. j. taw a woman s lace, among a legs are so long tnat they can see daylight
throng. It is an evil face, but there is a I long before a common chicken can.
Annie Laurie of our dreams. It only shows
that the course of true love
never runs smooth, we said, when we
heard that she did not . marry
the poetic lover. Well, maybe she was
happier with a dull country squire. Poets
are not proverbially model luisl ands; the
better poet, the worse husband, and the
writer of Annie Laurie had the poetic tem
perament pretty well developed."
These remarks of Mr. Carnegie aroused
a legion of paracraphers in England and
America. Each writer had his theorv,
and the accpunts published of Annie
Laurie were as various as they were incor
rect In order to settle definitely the question
of the Nithsdale heroine's identity, the
writer requested two of her immediate
descendants Captain Robert Cutlar Fergus
son and Miss Stuart-Mentcith to relate the
particulars of her life.
In response, Captain Cutlar Fergusson,
he present laird of Craigdarroch, Dumtries
thire, Scotland, and a grandson of the Ferg
s sson made famous by Robert Burns' poem,
u'The Whistle," writes as follows:
' Facts About thn Heroin-.
Ca mod MtBOcn, Momave, I
DmrntfeissMEE, X. Ii., April 23. 1S9J.
Dear Sir: My ancestiess, Annie Laurie,
was unquestionably tho heroine of tho
famous ballad. She" was born on December
10, 3G-2. at C a. jr., in the manor house of Max
ivclltown, and baptized a few davs later in
Glencairn Kirk. Her lather was Sir Uobert
Iiurte, BarC, of JIaxelltown, and her
mother, Annio Delzell, granddaughter of the
first Earl of Cam w atli. She married in April,
1709, Alexander Fergusson, laird of (Jraig
dairocn, and was the mother of one son,
Alexander. She lived to be nearly SOyoais
of age, dying not long bntore the marriage
or her granddaughter to Thomas Louyhran,
Esq.
With regard to the song or "Annie Laurie."
it was oiliinally written to an old air by
William Douglas, of Fingland. Both word
and tune were alteied by Lady John Seott.
sUtcrof tho late Duke or Buecleugli, and
wei o published by her, in their present con
dition, for the benefit of the widows and
orphans left by the Crlmcnn War. Douglas,
of Fingland. was a cadet of tho Qneensherry
familv. and a Jacobite refucee. I am afraid
that he was jilted by my fair progenitor, but
he subsequently consoled himself by marry
ing a Mis-. Clark, obtaining his pardon from
King George, and settling down to a quiet
country life. He wrote ninny verses, but
none equal to "Aqnie L-iurie."
Unclose von u picture ot Annie Laurie's
picture at Slaxnelltown, andnnothcror the
heroine's descendant. Miss Annie Stuart
Menteith, who is said to strikingly resemble
the older Ann'c. The .minting of Mrs. Fer
gusson (Annie Laurie) it Maxwelltowu wag
evidently executed when the original had
passed the meridian of life, and Is possibly
even a posthumous portrait, as tho he.id
diess, which belongs to a later period, would
Indicate.
I nlso send a view of Craigdarroch House,
wheiein Annie passed hall a century of her
existence. The winding path on the right
of the picture still bears her name. Old
llaxwelltown manor house has been de
stroyed, und the LhuiIo familv is now repie
sented in the female line by the Eev. Sir
Emilias Bayley-Laurie.
I possess several letters of Annie Laurie.
Sho wrote uninterestingly nnd Invariably
signed her name "Anna." I beg to lemain,
3 ours, etc. K. Cutlab Fbroussox,
Captain.
Another Account of the Lore Affair.
at a Distance.
Some years ago the writer journeyed up
the banks of Nith from the "guid toun o'
Dumfries," by "Maxwclltoun braes," to
Craigdarroch. The ever-changing scenery
had all the wild beauty of the North, and
glen, scaur and woodland teemed with
poetic recollections. Altogether I felt
wondrously romantic, and could not he'n
singing soitly to myself the tender melody
which has given deathless fame to the name
of Annie Laurie. But when I entered
Craigdarroch House, and found myself con
fronted with 1,000 relics ot the real Annie,
this veil ot romance was rudely rent aside.
It was hard to find that she who should
have waited long years for her Jacobite
troubadour, had actually thrown him over
to wed a Dumfriesshire laird, with a
paucity of ideas, and a plenitude of "siller."
It was still harder to find her transformed
into "Mrs. Fergusson," the gossiping,
match-making mistress of Craigdarroch.
But romance was completely routed when
a snuff-box was shown from which
Annie's white fingers had taken
many a titillating pinch. It was
petent. Now, when the fault is In the
flhrictiflti flnfl is Tint in flip Tinricri trior, ii
either one or the other of two explanations hy the United States Government for the
tue vunsuau is eit-uer uuwurmy or ne is "Ar";i':" ''' " '"s "'" mj uuurcu
Ik .'sSL
Annie Laurie, From an Old OU Painting.
explained that Mrs. Fergusson did not be
come partial to snuff until late in life, but
the bare idea of her practicing the habit at
all seemed too terrible to contemplate.
The writer sadly left the ancient mansion
in which he had expected to find so many
tender memories of Anrtie Laurie's gracious
life. He did not linger in "Annie's walk"
bv the winding Nith, or under the walls of
Maxwelltown, where Douglas had wooed
and lost. On the contrary, he hastened to
Dumfries convinced that Annie Laurie,
like most cherished heroines of romance, is
most charming when admired from a dis
tance. John Gerald Brestan.
COMPETITION AMONG VEGETABLES.
Miss Stuart-Menteith, aunt of the young
lady whose portrait accompanies this ar
ticle, wrote as follows:
That Annie Laurie, of llaxwelltown, was
the
Plants Are Mach Like Ramans and
Strongest Win In tire's Struggles.
The principal ot competition is so active
and so vigorous in the vegetable world that
it keeps up a sort of domestic warfare among
plants. The struggle to get on in the
world, says Pearson't Weekly, is less notice
able in our latitude than it is in the tropics.
Where the possibilities of reaching the most
gigantic size are the greatest, there the in
dividual plant struggles most eagerly to
get into the foremost place. Plants are
much like ourselves.
As an instance of how one tree will take
tdvantage of another, may be mentioned
the conduct of what is called the parasitio
fig. The seed of this plant is distributed by
birds. Suppose one ot these seeds happen
to lodge in the fork of a fruit tree. It germ
inates as well there as it would on the
ground. The young plant sends a long root,
down until it reaches the soil. Then it
grows vigorouslv, and its first development
is toward spreading itself all over the fruit
tree, until it has smothered and killed it.
The foster child steps completely into the
shoes of its foster-parent.
ignorant
The Christian Who Is Selflih.
Sometimes the Christian is unworthy.
That is to say, he is a selfish Christian,
thinks of nobody but himself, and has no
desire except to get whatever spiritual good
he can fcr his own soul. If be can get that
in solitude, so much the better. He has no
interest in any Christian plans set on foot
lhat require the co-operation ot a great
many people. Or perhaps the Christian is
ashamed or afraid. He may be living that
kind of q life which he recognizes as incon
sistent with the Christian profession and
does not dare to go into the parish. In
either of which cases the Christian is no
Christian at all.
Or else the Christian is ignorant. That is
to say, he is ignorant ot Christianity.
There'are a great many people who have
exceedingly false ideas about Christianity.
Some people imagine they have departed
from Christianity when they have departed
from some kind of ritual that is in vogue
among a certain class of Christian people,
or believe themselves unable to accept a
certain metaphysical statement which is
alleged to be Christian doctrine. The truth
is, however, that no good man, and no good
woman, has rejected Christianity from the
beginning to this day. There "are those
who have turned away from some caricature
of Christ, there are those who have turned
away from some representation of Christ
wholly inadequate, no more like the Christ
thatli'vedand breathed in Galilee than a glass
Christ in achancel window. But no good man
orwoman has turned away from Christianity.
Because that means turning away from
Christ, and means calling darkness light.
and light darkness. It means turning away
from God. Every man who desires to live
a good lite, every honest man who wants to
know the truth "about God, should have a
place in a Christian parish.
Duty of Those In tho Church.
However, my concern at present is not so
much with the Christian who is not in a
parish as the Christian who is in a parish
already. What shall the Christian in the
parish do?
The Christian in the parish will take his
share in the parish worship and in the par
ish work. It is not my purpose to speak at
any length on the duty of church attend
ance. The duty of church attendance is
one of the most dangerous ot doctrines be
cause it tends to obscure the real meaning
of Christianity. It would be a most unfor
tunate and mistaken idea if anybody should
think that going to church is even a large
part of the Christian religion. "Why, in
the New Testament, with one possible ex
ception, there is actually no command laid
urion the Christian to attend church at all.
The New Testament fills up the space which
might have been taken un with that kind of
injunction with exhortations to better liv
ing. Church attendance is the least part of
the Christian religion. Christianity is a
life Moreover, the way to get church at
tendance is not by telling people that they
ought to go to church. That is beginning
at the wrong end. That is a good deal like
setting somebody down in a chair and say
ing, "Now, I want you to talk to me in the
roost interesting way you can." That
would drv up all the springs of inspira
tion. Nobody would be able to converse
under these conditions. The way to get
conversation out of people is to get them
interested in something that interests you
and them. The way to get people to church
is to make the. church attractive. What
does that mean?
Eveiybortj Wants to Be Better.
Does it mean operatic singing in the choir
and sensational preaching in the pulpit? I
hare too much confidence in the good sense
and the good conscience of the people ever
to believe that Every man and .every
woman in this world wants to be better, and
wherever there is a Christian parish which
exerts itself to teach people to be better,
even in a small way, there you will find the
people. The parish whose services are
found to help will have no need to send out
tithing men With long, sharp sticks to drive
the reluctant people withiu the doors of the
sanctuary.
The Christian, however, will sometimes
go to church, although he is not interested
and the services do not attract him. Because
the Christian will realize that, although he
may not get much help, he can give help by
his presence. We do not think enough,
perhaps, of the helpfulness of being pres
ent It helps the preacher and it helps the
people. Every empty seat in every church
is so far a discouragement, both to the
preacher and to the people; and every seat
that is full counts just so much on the other
side. ' I am sure the congregations are very
alms box, that it may represent a gift of 10
cents on the part of the giver. There was
only one 3-cent piece in the offering that
morning. Now, I say that the offerings
which we make in the church are a real way
of doing work. The money ought to repre
sent concentrated work.
This is one way in which the Christian
may do work in the parish. The Christian,
however, will also work in the parish in
dustries. His question will be that which
St Paul asked on his way to Damascus, in
the moment of his conversion and as a test
also of his conversion "Lord, what wilt
tnon nave me to do iivery good man
wants to do something, and every good par
ish ought to provide something tor every
man to do. Peonle are not to think that
the parochial industries are set down in the
church calendar for the purpose of filling
up space, or to get people interested. All
of them are designed to accomplish service
for the cause of righteousness, and in everv
case they depend for the amount of service
which they can accomplish entirely upon
the efforts of people who take part in them.
So that everybodv who stays away from
the parish industries weakens just so much
the work that might be done for the cause
of uplifting in this world.
Being Good Away From Chnrch.
It is plain, 'tiowever, that everybody can
not work in the parochial industries. There
is, accordingly, another way of work better
than giving money, better than taking part
in the parish organizations, which every
Christian ought to do at home, and in the
street and in the shop and everywhere.
Evervbody who is a Christian all the week
is doing parish work. The man who is a
Christian in his business, the woman who is
a Christian in society, the people who lead
such lives tnat other people say, "u that is
what it is to be a Christian, I want to be a
Christian too" those people are doing the
very highest and most efficient kind of
parish work.
The Christian, however, will bear dis
tinctly in mind in all his relations to the
worship and the work that he is not the
only Christian in the parish, that there are
a great many other people in the same par
ish who have their needs and their desires
and their ideas. Some people seem to im
agine that the parish exists entirely for
themselves; that the best svmbol of the
parish is a big wagon filled with lazy or in
different Christians who are being tugged
along the Jordan road into the kingdom of
heaven by the clergy. Whereas the proper
symDoi oi tne ennren is a company ot men
at a life-saving station who are there beside
the dangerous reef that they may do their
work in saving those who are sinking into
the waves. They are not thinking about their
own safetv but about the help that they can
give to others. The good Christian will re
member that he is not the only Christian in
the parish. Tha't will stir up in him the
spirit of neigbborliness and the spirit of
tolerance.
Sacredness of Brotherly I.ov.
The Christian will be a good Christian
neighbor to all people in the church. The
idea used to be that the Christian ought to
go in the front door of the church, looking
neither to right nor left, and march straight
to his pew and there attend to his devotions
and go through the service, and then when
the benediction was given, go straight out
of the church as if he were all alone and
there were no other Cnristians in the church
at all. That is the fault of forgetting that
far more sacred than any sanctity which
God can attach to the material building of
the church is the sacredness of brotherly
love. That is the most sacred thing in our
religion. Brotherly love ought to have its
place in the whole life of the church.
If it had, a story which Mr. Moody tells
would bs without point of the man who
said that the sermon that morning was about
recognition in heaven and he wished that
the preacher would preach next Sunday
about recognition on earth, because he had
been a member of that church for seven
years and nobody had ever looked at him.
The good Christian is a Christian in his
place in the church; he extends all possible
courtesies to the strangers who sit in his
pew. He makes it a point to
know those who have seats around
him in the church, and to be as neighborly
as possible; so that those who go into the
church may feel that they are welcome
there, that it is really a Christian church
and not a kind of Sunday club.
Calling on New Neighbors.
And that same neigbborliness will ex
tend outside the church into the com
munity. The Christian will ctll upon peo
ple in the parish who move into that neigh
borhood. And it will not make any differ
ence if they happen to be exceedingly poor
people. If they are exceedingly poor peo
ple, the call that is made will not be a call
of charity. It will be the call of perfect
equality. It will be a social visit I
recognize the limits of congeniality of
which I spoke last Sunday, and I recognize
also the largo, social duties that are laid up
on people in society, but I say that far
more important than social duties are re
ligious duties, and this is one of them. If
we are going to have a brotherhood in this
world, where we shall all be on an equality,
where weshall all look up to the Heavenly
Father, and realize that we are brothers an'd
sisters, where shall it begin if it does not
begin right here in the parish?
TheChristian who realizes that he is not all
alone in the parish will have also the spirit
ot tolerance. He will recognize the fact
that it is possible for other people to be
altogether different from himself and yet be
right That is one of the hardest lessons
which we have to learn I suppose that
none of us have altogether learned that
lesson the lesson of the fact of difference.
God has made us different, and different in
our religious temperament a well as in all
our other temperaments. .God has made
some of us so that the direction in which it
seems natural to look is up, and others so
that we look in, and still other: so that we
look out
- Different Kinds or Churchman.
To some the emphatic word in religion is
worship they look up to God. In the case
of others, the emphatic word is salvation
thev look in at their own souls. Whibs
with still others the emphatic word is
work they look out for their brothers.
And,accordlngly,there are high churchmen,
and low churchmen, and broad churchmen,
and always have been, and always will he,
and always should be. There ought to be
room in a parish for all kinds of religions
temperaments. The Christian who sees
some things in the parish which are not
particularly helpful to him, will at once
reflect that for that reason he may be sure
that they are helpful to somebody else. He
will desire to have in the parish everything
that will help anybody.
Finally, the Christian in the parish will
be loyal to the parish. By that I mean that
he will find all possible fault in everything
that is blameworthy iu the parish. But he
will always find that fault in the right way
ana to tne ngnt people, suppose that Mr.
A says to Mr. B: "Don't you think that
the congregations are falling off a good deal,
that the church is not getting along verv
. well?" what good will that do to Mr. B?
What business is it of his whether the con
gregations are large or small, unless Mr. B
happens to be one of those who have been
staying away from church then there is
some sensein it The loyal Christian in
the parish if he finds that the congregations
are getting small,- will try to make them
larger.
Complaining at Headqnirters.
Then suppose that Mrs. C says to Mrs.
D: "Don't you think the sermons have
been very long lately and rather dull, and
that the minister is not quite doing the
work that he used to do?" what has "Mrs.
D to do with that? What responsibility
has she for the length or brevity of the ser
mons? The person to go to is the preacher
himself, and the loval Christian in the
parish does that If he has a complaint to
make, he always makes it in the presence of
the right people.
And the loyal Christian in the parish
praises everything that It is possible to
praise, aud praises it at all possible times
and to all possible people, because the loyal
Christian understands that even a parish
grows better in the sunshine. I suppose
that there are conditions when a parish
needs something different from sunshine,
when the only thing that is left for a parish
is hailstones and coals of fire that is what
the parishes of Sodom and Gomorrah
needed. But the chances are that the av
erage parish needs more sunshine, needs
more praising of everything that can be
praised, knowing that human nature is to
make that praiseworthy which is praised.
The loyal Christian makes the best of
everything. That kind of conduct, persist
ently continued in, in due course of time
makes everything the best
GEORGE HODQES.
EVERY FAMILY
Should be provided with Ayer's Pills.
No other aperient is in such general de
mand or so highly recommended by tha
profession. Mild but thorough in oper
ation, these pills are the best of all rem
edies for constipation, biliousness, heart
burn, indigestion, flatulency, loss of ap
petite, liver complaint, and sick head
ache. They break up colds, fevers, and
malaria, relieve rheumatism and neu
ralgia, and are indispensable to travel
ers, either by r- land or sea.
Sugar-coat- Jl-, cd and com
pounded of II 66 OS the pnresfj
vegetable LJ cathartics,
they may bo taken with impunity by
old and young. Physicians recommend
these pills In preference to any other.
H.W.Hersh.Judsonia, Ark., says: "la
1853, by the advice of a friend, I began
the use of Ayer's Pills as a remedy for
biliousness, constipation, high fevers,
and colds. They served me better thaa
anything I had previously tried, and I
have used them in attacks of that sort
ever since."
Ayers Cathartic Pills
Every Dose Effective.
Scott's Emulsion of cod
liver oil is an easy food it is
more than food, if you please;
but it is a food to bring
back plumpness to those who
have lost it.
Do you know what it is to
be plump ?
Thinness is poverty, living
from, hand to mouth. To be
plump is to have a little more
than enough, a reserve.
Do you want a reserve of
health? Let us send you a
book on careful living;
free.
Scott&Bowhx. Chemists, 133 South sth Arena,
New York.
Your druggist keeps Scott's Emulsion of cod-live
oil all druggists everywhere do. ft.
3
MED1CAI.
Pleanant Tiames of Indian Women.
Harper's Young People.! '
The wives of some of fhe Indian braves
have names as odd and often as funny as
their husband.s.lThey seem to have names of
their own, too, and not to take the names of
their husbands only. Some of the actual
names given in a jensns of the families of
the scouts at Fort Supply includes Mrs.
Short Nose, who was, before her marriage,
Miss Piping Woman; Mrs. Big Head, for
merly Miss Short Face; Mrs. Jfibbs, for
merly Miss Young Bear: Mrs. White Crow,
formerly Miss Crook Pipe; Mrs. Howling
Water, formerly Miss Crow Woman; also
Mrs. White Skunk, Mrs. Sweet Water,
Miss Walk High, daughter of Mr. White
Calf, and Miss Ojage, daughter of Mr.
Hard Case.
DOCTOR
WHITTIER
M PESN AVENUE, PITTsBCRG. PA.
As old residents know and hacte dies o:
rittsbnrg papers prove. Is the oldest estab
lished and most prominent physician in tha
clty.devotlng speclalattention toall ohronls
S5STS.N0 FEE UNTIL CURED
sponsible MCRXnllQ an" mental dls
perons I H "Hi V UUO eases, physical de
cay, nervous dehiltty, lack of enerzv. ambi
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slghr, self distrust, bashfulnes, dlzzfness,
sleeplessness, pimples, eruptfons, Impover
ished blood, tailing powers, organic weak
ness, dyspensia. constipation; consumption,
unfitting the person forhiisiness.societyanct
marriage, permanently, safely and privately
STftiBLOOO AND SKINS'
eruptions. blotches.falllnT hair,bones,i)ain3,
slandular swulllmrs, ulcerations of tins
toncne. mouth, throat, ulcers, old sores, ar
enred for life, and blood poisons thoroughly
eradicated from I IDIM A DV kldnev and
the system. "JnllNnn I ibladder (Is.
ranements, wets uacit. ehitpi, caiarruai
discharges, inflammation and other painful
symptoms receive searching tresment
urompr. rellerand ral cures.
Dr. AVhittter's Hfo-Ionsr extensive experi
ence Insurer "clontiflo and reliable treat
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treated as If here. Offloe hours, 9 a. v. to 1
p. x. Sunday, 10 jum. to I r. n. only. DB
YinmiKR, 811 Penn avenue, Pittsburg, Pa
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The Great English lfemedy.
Promptly an2 permanent.
Iv cures all forms or nerv-
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J spermatorrhea, lmpoteucy
auu an eaecis ui auuse ur
1 excesses. Keen prescribed
over 35 years in thousands
of cases; is the only reu
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; known. Asfc iroirisis ror
enndAr - Wood's Phosfhodii:1
he offers some worthless medicine In place of this.
leaTe his dishonest store, inclose price la letter,
and we will send br return mall. Price, one pack
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Pamphlet In plain sealed envelope. 2 sumps. Ad
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delj-ol-eoawic
"R
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as the Carlsbad Sprudel Salt, act best
when taken very early in the morning,
before breakfast. The Waters of
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Stomach, Dyspepsia, Liver and Kid
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action of the water by adding a little
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genuine, which must have the signa
ture of ''Eisner & Mendelson Co.,
Agents, New York," on every bottle.
su
TAPANES
IW CUKE
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I. A tolocmn, 31. C, 183 Pearl St., N. Y
ap30
VIGOR OF MEN
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EE1E MEDICAL CO., DVFFALO, Jf. T.
J aim
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my8-30Stt
buffering: lrom Lott
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MIltT.lxutManllao-'.
F.,,.- Wn-iHiisend vouavslnable book (sealed)
of charpte, contalnlntr full particulars fora speedy
permanent cure. Address: SA?
iot Ollvi" street. St. Louis. Mo.
dress: SA. MATto JlED.CO.,
and
n. SAXDEA'S
WEAK MEN,
sMsssTBsssssssssssssssslasssssliasssssI tllsaii
w &.
MM
XODK ATTENTIoa
IS CALLED TO TBK
HWIWI.m OBiAT EKGLISB BEMKDX
bray's bpecific Medicine
vol"rV)t'h'n"lv!"lValcnefcS of BAdV
mo. Ami Tim and Mind. Snermatorrhea. and
Impotency, and all diseases that arise from over
Indulgence and self-ahuse. as Loss of Memory and
Power, Dimness of Vision. Premature Old Age,
and many other diseases that lead to Insanity or
Consumption and an early gTave. writ for oof
pamphlet.
Address GRAY MEDICINE CO., Buffalo. S. T.
The SpeclBc Medicine Is sold hy all druggists at ft
per package, or sit packagrs forts, orsentbymall
aaffi'WEGUABAN
order a cure ormoner refutirifn.
J3"On account of counterfeits we hate adopted
the Yellow Wrapper, the only genuine. Sold la
Pittsburg by S. S. jiOLI.AND, cur. bmlthdeld aud
Liberty sis. 3-ai-nwreoI
ELECTRIC BELT
With Electro-Magnetic Suspensory
Latest Patents ! Best Improvements!
Will euro without medicine all Weakness resulting
from over-taxation of brain, nerve rorces. ev.
cesses or Indiscretion, as exhaustion, nervous de
bility, sleeplessness. languor, rheumatism, kid
ney, liver and bbdder complaints, lame bade lum
bago, sciatica, general ill-health, etc. This Elec
tric Uelt contains wonderful improvements over
all others, and gives a eurrent that Is Instantly relt
by wearer or we forfeit 000. and will cure alio
he above diseases or no pay. Thousands hT
been cured by tills marvelous Invention after all
other remedies failed, and we give hundreds of
Our
ELECTRIC SU3-
WEfflK-.-"r3: S; I mFkYw1,'hT!L,e'WT5r, "
HIVvllrIcI.,.tc.,Ih.J..'fT:,ll,.r,.lJf,,.h: , SfAlreSFth o'tVaSFW?;.. i"1"? "" Ti
aboT complain u, and by lu qh tbootudt f nut ef tbt wont kind
and of loo j f Undtaf hart been rettored to health and "Haa!i4. Ia
dtcd, o tron; ! my faith In IU nrathre power that I will tend aa
Aill slxedptekafe lYe f chrr, to any afflicted nflrrer.
t uk- f. a. i:i.Ai.Flr..tii.n,raH.
Addriut
testimonial In this nnd ererT other 4tite
roweijiil IMPROVED ELECTR
weat
..- ....... nif ii.. "r -aMasi Miu ';
? .v. . ju A i-Art iiMMJ in 60 to 90 davs. Sena
mailed, sealed, fret.
for Illustrated pamphlet.
Address,
BANDEX ELECTRIC CO
oi!32.TTSla Au. b!9 Broadwar.eir Vorx
J; .. .:,,,.., .1fJi .to. -...,, I .' '
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