\'OI.- XXXV UK" ™ It is important in every household in Butler county to see that each member of the family has good warm substantial footwear. The Boys and Girlsthat go to School 'over ihe rough roads, through the mud and slush, must be looked after. Cheap. Shoddy Shoes won't fill the bill at this season of the year. You ask where shall Igo to get a good shoe; I don't know. I am not in the shoe business, I must rely on the dealer. Now you have hit the nail on the head. Ask your neighbors ask anybody; nine out of ten will tell you to go to 'S What he recommends you are safe in buying. He won't tell you that 65c, 89c and 98c shoe 3 will keep out water going to school. Boys" and Youths' Shoes. n botton or lac *' tip or plain ' ** I Heavy tap«o>.. shoe, 73c to *i See our Jenness Miller Shoes of Heavy oil -rain tap -!e *1 -•"> to *l -V. Dress Reform Weare sole * CTa " l tal ' No " Rlp ' -ting ,rt£ made. , * High cut Bemral calf #1 V) to $1.75. at 50 iry a pair. Satin calf, verv fin*-, $1 25 to II ■>'». i _ . , c ,. c . Boxcalf, heayy »oi<* *l.soto*; For Girls School Shoes. Little gents' veal and box calf. 75c, <1 and $1 ."J5 Our nnlined kip and veal calf. button See our Jamestown High cut and lace - >!. da* ••• rock at 75.-tofi 4'j copper tip shoe- two «o>- and tap, bent Kangaroo, crack proof. and box caif. in Butler 11.75 and 50 7"< •. $1 and $1.25 Kid :ihfHt> at 45c to $1.50 r. U/nmon • Reliability stands ont from every rUr flOHlcli Htit'-h made in young ladies'. girls' and children's spring-heel, lace or button. An nnunua! comfoination of style, ele gance. com tort and economy They are j- M on the best women's shoe "find of the rOP meil. year. They are selling faster than any shoes we have ever offered By all odds the greatest shoes for men Kid shoe*. McKay sewed 85c to •! 25. we ever -old Ten styles. Something Kid. heavy sole slioe*. others ask $2 25 for every taste in winter tan i<ox ''"lf and 92.50: our price $2 enamels and wax calf at s'■ $"-.50, Kid or box calf, kangaroo and oil and $3.50. grain $1 tosl 25. Veal and kip I<ojc toe shoes at f1.50 One lot ladies'fine hand turns, $1.50: and fornier price $4.75. Patent leather shoes at $2 to s.> Warm lined shoe*, 50c to $1 25. Heavy two t-')le and tap Creed more® We are known all oyer Butler connty at. i l to *1 ~i>> for our serviceable nnlined Irip and veal Heavy !»oot- r1.50 to $2..»0. Our Stock Rubber otfs ani Wool outs the best. AH fresh, made to our order We don't ;< omiuend all cheap shoes we have them if you want them, and better go id- than any hou-e in Butler can produce. These are all fresh goods direct from the matinfa'-turer, and no old job lots that are set aside to be sold for what they will brin•/ in this stock Come in and see bow we do business. B. C. HUSELTON S, Jlutler'i r>-a'tl<iK Hhoo >fou»e. Opposite Hotel l»wry. < HE IS A WISE HAN j * * * WHO SI-xtickn m.s <;M>TIIIM; FICOM— t I { J J. 2>. YUUIXU, J t Till: MKItCIIAN'T TAII.OIt, # I > The ffiMslit, stj'l«, lit and general make J 5 lip of Ills HllitH ' \TELL their own STORY. «-• .STRIVING FOR EFFECT. j v£X $ _.. j / Men won't buy clothing for the purpose f \ //. I ,f \ fy'f spending money. They desire to get the \ 'A/f \ i J.l»rst It«. libfe result*! for tin- money cx(>end , /i /I \ 1 N"' cheap but goodt, as cheap as \ * '\ l\s' ! > Whey can b> told and made up projieily. If f \] fe*". u WH,,t "'e correct tiling at the correct • ...I ijr \» / flprice call on us, we nave tedured our spring | ij 7^*' —ftand summ.*r goo«!« down to make ro"m for j n '■> X" ur heavy weight xoods, iJ ; \ v ..; f i 1! A It's T , \ li- .j,jf\ '| j f. Fits Guaranteed. • 9 142 N, Main St.^Butler Rape sros, JEWEb€HS. We Will Save You Money On • . Watches Clocks, ; Silverware, 1847 Rodger Bros. I S Plateware and Sterling Our Repair Department taken in til kinds of W adu s, blocks and Jt-wclry, etc 122 S. Main St. Old gold and silver taken the* : arru as cash. ■ 1 H 1 » ... There Is In Paint." I h. W. Johns' ASB ESTOS Liquid Paint ■ sisp ran ••msco. ■uoecarion*. (TC ? <S W. Campbel Butler, Pa. THE BUTLER CITIZEN. Afcte Library -M- Constipation (_£ U! - lully lir.lf the *ickncss in tlic- worM. It r Utii the digested fool too long to th<> bowel* ir.d . oduce 1 biliousness, tarpid liver, lndt Hood's 'II ■II o so unia etc. Hood's IHB* | || | ru.-eco' tipation and all its re ,.-Its -isily and thoroughly. 2W VlldrugKistt ' fr< ared t y C. I Hwl & Co.. Lowell. Mas* v u- Villi to tate with Sarsaparill* Thousands arc Tryliiß It. In ord*i to prove the great ii;erit of Elv's Cream Balin. the most effective cnr» for c ktarrh ar:d Cold in ICjiA. we have pre p-ir ■'! a generous trial size for 10 rents. Get it of your druggist or send 10 cents to ELY BUGS., oC Warren St., X. Y. City. 1 sufTer«vl from catarrh of the wor-t K-.nd ever since a boy. an I 1 ne er b0j.,.1 for euro, bat Ely's Cream Halm scenic ' - do even that. Many acquaintances ha»- :i-- -1 it with excel'ent results. —'Iscar Ustruiu. \Tj Warren Ave., Chicago, 111. FJ-.'s Cream Balm is the acknowledged I cur. "fur catarrh and contains no cocair.e, , 1 mercury cor any injnriwus drug Pr: e, | \W> cents. At druj?K ihts or l 'V matt. ————-■ VICTOHV i , Al» ays crowns our efforts to secure the handsomest and most correct tiling in Men's Dress at all season's of the year. There's a fresh, bright eporkle of style about our spring pattern*, the leind that has snap and art in it. We cater to the economical :nan iKrcause our clothes give a dollar of service for every dollar paid 1,,-t us sho'v you the kind of a suit we make for $25. ALAND, MAKER OF MEN'S LOTHES Butler Savings Bank Mutter, Pm. Cupi-al - .f6o,o«MK Surplus and Profits fiVt.WJO .MSfgk ***** tJ*V Id iil r. lIKMtV I KOITTM A N .. Vir»-Prr>icl*ol W\! i A M I'iiLLL, Jr Ch/ hirr I.Ot IS I', STK'N '1 Hl* r l»IKK«TOK u I'm fpij \ t . ' urviM. .1 \\*ury I ro' tf.iHfi, W. It Hr.tliiJon. VV. A Hl» ln. J. H. 1 <i'ii>tieli. Tin- Ilutlcr K;ivinic* llurik is liunklriK liiHtltutl'»L. u Hutl«*r < ourify. (itiwr: il t'JiiikliiK hUhlfH Hs trarisa' ;« d. WP Kilirjt of uil pnMurtfrn, ru<*r rliiiniH, furffi'Tit and oth' rn. All h injrji - * '-rjtrusMjd U> u% will prompt attention. iMtWI on tlrnt* 'Ji-i>o>»l(u TM K Bailer County National Bank, 111111 er Penn, Capital pij'l in - - fi jo,<*jo.ori .Surplus and Prohu f 114,647.87 los. Hartmau, President; J. V. kitts, i ('resident; C. A. Bailey. Cashier; John <). McMarliu, Ass't Cashier. / general lisiiiklug liuslno transacted. liiU-resl |iiild on I line (le(K,»lt* Money loaned on approvt-'l He.*urlt.y. W<: Invlli- yon to open un uconnt Wil li Hit* bank lillt.M 'l >l:s lion .lo.eph Hartinar,. lion. 1 W s VVulilron, lir .» M llmm-r II M. •4we.-ney, i; 1 \l,rums, < |- COIIIIIH I <«. HlMla.lt, 1.1 .1' I' llu/|.>H, rilie K ii, w. »V II l.nrkln, John llumplir< y, lir \\ ; Mi - ' ili'lle-,1. Ili-ii vl,i*» I |i. I■ vi M Wl-e . J. V Klto Pearson B. Nace's Livery Feed and Sale Stable Rear of Wick House, Butler, Penn'a. Tli«- In-Hl of hornt'4 und fir it cluhh rIK« sil ' writ vii on hnnd i4ii«l for lilrc. Ifi-nt iM'<'ornin<idatloiin In town f<»r |»« rma n'iii iKHinllnu ttnd Lrun»|<-iiL triulc HjhmtJ :il rtirr K uai uil t « « <l. Stable Room For 65 Horses. A clttit of liorMm. l#oth drlvitrw and <lr;ifl hormn stlwuy* on liarifl iifi'l for mi If under a full ifufiraut-tm; und liorw* U{M#n projM-r notification by PEARSON B. NACE, Telephone. No. '&\U nil MPAI (Ol It OLII I'IHH KHS) UIL I'IIHL Now v« ry . ».p l ««<l for ll«»rt«-H. C ow-4, Hh« «v. lloj»t I'hwlh 11 *■ it 1111 Htr«ni(tlt :tn«l nr»Klu«'ll v«» |#nw<r Lounlnmlv Ar« you f« « 'liiik It? <ln itp« »»i f«*«*'! In Mm n»urk< i LINSEED OIL ycam on honm-, burn or f« n« «- Mlx«w] pitlnl . Hl*-douM ful'(Utility; M<n»« ;md miiim v« * v bad Wrlt« for our fitrular. I o» ;»ur»- UtiM'vd oil or ini-ul. and wblt«* lnji'l, ahU for TbompHon'M,*' «#r a<liln «i rnanufa' I IIOMI'.-oN \i, \ , \\ illainoiid ntr« « i All« s/h« nv I'a. Butler Business College. It is desirable that the people of l»ul ler and Untler eotinly and of the sur roiinduiK country heeonie iiriinninted with the faet that the Hut ler ISuHinees ColleKe is now owned hy. and under the niana((eiiieiit of. Prof. A F. who for the I»■ ml year and a half has been in eh ar«e of the I'Ufitiess department of the institution. Prof. Ket(al has found it advisahln to add a Mimical iJepart nient to the institiition, and for this purp'i e has ecnretl the serviees of Prof 1' i »tto I>avis, of llntler. Pa who has entire of that department -Vlessrn and Davit pro|s>se to make things hum Two new rourm<s have iM'i-n added, viz Iteporter'sShort hand ('ourse, and ICxpert Aeeountant s I'ook keeping Course. I'V.r further in formation the c courses, see our prirspectus which will he out. mooii Kchool now in session day and ni«ht. Any one wishing to make arran«enieutH to nttend ttie institution will please call on or addrcHH A !•' Ukuai.. Prill., t't'.l H. Main Ht , Hutler, Pa PKOI'I.I.S PiloM. J7l Bkli. J'H'»NI; 171. Hulncrllm lor ii,« Citizen 11 ST 1 * ®r V*® CHAPTER I. JIY BOTHOOD. My father lieloDged to tlie wide spread family of the Campbells, and posMsseil a small landeel property in the north of Argyll. Hut although of I long descent and high connection, he i was no richer than many a farmer of | a few hundred acres. For, with the I exception of a narrow belt of arable land at Its foot, a bare hill formed I almost the whole of his possessions. | I The slieep ate over It. and no doubt i found it good; I bounded and climbed j all over it. and thought it a kingdom | | From my very childhood, 1 had re- j jolced in being alone. The sense of room about ine had been one of my greatest delights. Hence, when my : tliouphts Jo back to those old years, j it is not the house, nor the family room, nor that desolate hill, the top j i of which was only a wide ex pa use of j moorland, rugged with height an<J j hollow, and dangerous with deep. | dark pools, but in many portions p;ir- I pie with large-belled li .iiner. and ! crowded with cranberry and blae-ber ry plants. There was one »pot upon the bill half-way between the valley and the moorland, which was my favorite , haunt. This part of the bin was cov ered with great blocks of stone, of all shapes and yi/.cs here crowded to gether. like the slain where the hat tie had been fiercest; there parting asunder from spaces of delicate green —of softest grass. In tin* center of one of these green spots, on a steep part of the hill, were three hug'- rocks —two projecting out of the hill, rather than standing from it, and oue, like wise projecting from the bill, but lying across the tops of tne two, so as to form a little cave, the back of which was the side of the hill. This 4vas my refuge, my home within a home, my study—and, in the hot noons, often my *!<■( ping cliaml»er, and my house of dreams. If the wind blew cold on the hill side, a hollow of lulling warmth was there, scooped as It were out of the body of the blast, which, sweeping around, whistled keen and thin through tli<* cracks and crannies of the rocky chaos that lay all about; in which confusion of recks the wind plunged, and flowed, and eddied, and withdrew, as the s--a waves on the cliffy shores or the un known rugged bottoms. Here I jvould often lie, as the sun went down, and ivatch the silent growth of another sea, which the stormy ocean of the wind could not disturb— the sea of darkness. I would He till nothing but the stars and the dim out lines of hills against the sky was o be seen, and then rise and go home, as sure of my path as if I nad been descending a dark staircase In my father's house. On the opposite side of the valley, another hill lay parallel to mine, and behind It, at some miles' distance, a great mountain. As often as. In my hermit's cave, 1 lifted my eyes from the volume I was reading, I saw this mountain before me. Very different was Its character from that, of the hill it l.iclt I was seated. It was a mighty tiling, a chieftain of tnc race, . nod *cnrr<-d, feii'nrcd with chasms and precipices and overlcan- Ing rocks, themselves huge as hills; here blackened with shade, there overspread with glory; interlaced with the silvery lines of falling streams, which, hurrying from heaven to earth, eared not how they wen., so it were downward. Fearful stories were told of the gulfs, sullen waters, j and dizzy heights from that terror i (inuplcd mountain. In storms the ' wind roai'ed like thunder in its cav | erns and along the Jagged sides of Its | cliffs, hut at other times unit uplifted i land uplifted, yet secret and full of dismay lay silent as a cloud on the i horizon. I had a certain peculiarity of con Htl l iition, which I have some reason to believe I Inherit. It seems to liavo i 11m root In an unusual delicacy of j healing, which often conveys to mo sounds Inaudible to those abojit me. This I have had many opportunities of proving. It has likewise, however, brought me sounds which I could never trace back to their origin; though they may have arisen from some natural operation which I liavo not perseverance or mental acute ness sufficient to discover. From tills, or, It may be, from some deeper cause with which this is connected, arose a certain kind of Tearfulness associated with the sense of heating, of which I have never heard a cor responding Instance. Full as my mind was of the wild and sometimes fearful tales of a Highland nursery, fear never entered my mind by t .e eyes; nor, when I brooded over tales of terror, and fancied new and yet more frightful embodiments of hot ror, did I shudder at any imaginable spectacle, or tremble lent the fancy should become fact, and from behind the whin-bush or the elder hedge ! should glide forth a tall, swaying , form of tin- HonclcHs. When alone In I bed, I used to 11" awake, and look out 1 Into the room, peopling it with the forms of all the persons who had died • within the scope of my memory and acquaintance. These fancied forms were vividly present to my luiagiua Hon. I pictured tbcm pale, wnh dark circles around their hollm. eyes, vlsl ble by a light which glimmered Within them; not the light of life, hut a pale, greenish phosphorescence, generated by the decay of . ic brain Inside. Their garments w're white and trailing, lint torn and soiled, as by trying often In vain to get up out rif the hurled coffin. Hut so far from being terrified by these Imaginings, f used to <lcH|[|it in them; and In tho long winter evenings, when I did not happen to have any book tliut Inter* | esteil me sufficiently, I used ev 11 to ! look forward with expectation to the hour when laying myself straight upon my hack, as If In my coflln, I could ca|J up from underground all ; j who hail passed away, and see how j | they fared, yea, what progress they j had made toward linn I dissolution of j i form; hut ail the time, with my tin ' I gers pushed hard Into my ears, lest j the fa Inl ch l sound should invade ilie- j silent citadel of my soul. If luud ■ vertctitly I removed one of my tin- I gers, the agony of terror I Instantly experienced Is indescribable. I can | | compare |i to nothing but the rush- j Ing in upon my brain of a whole ' I church yard of specters. The very possibility of hearing a soumi, in such a mood, and at such a time, was al most enough to paralyze me. So I I could scare myself in broad daylight, | on the open hill aide, by Imagining unintelligible sounds; and my Imag- j liintlon was both original and fertile In the Invention of sucn. Hut my lultid was too active lo lie often sub I Jccted to such Influences. Indeed life BUTLER, PA., THURSDAY, NQVEMBKR 3, IBUB would have l>een hardly endurable, had these moods been of more than occasional occurrence. As l grew old er I almost outgrew them. \et some times oue awful drv;wl would seise me that. perhaps. prophetic I lower manifest in the gift of second -iglit. which, according to the testi mony of my old nurse, had belonged to several of my ancestors, had been in any eas:> transformed in kind with out losing its nature, transferring its aiuide from the sight to tlie hearing, whence resulted its keenness. ::nd my fear and suffering. CIIAITER 11. TIIF. SfcCUM) HEAIMKO, One summer evening I had lingered longer than usual in my rocky re treat; I had laid half -reaming in the mouth of my cuve, tid the shad ows of evening had fallen, and ue gloaming had deepened toward the night. But the night had no more terrors for me than the day. I he mountain rose liefore me a huge mass of gloom; but its several peaks stood out "against the sky with a clear, pure, sharp outline, and looked nearer to me than the bulk from wu.cn they rose heavenward. One star trembled and throbbed upon the very tip of the loftiest, the central peak, which seemed the spire of a mighty temple where the light was worship -d— --crowned, therefore, in the darkness, with the emblem of the nay. I was lying, as I have said, with this fancy still in my thought, when suddenly I heard, clear, though faint and far away, the sound c.s of the iron shod hoofs or a horse, in furious gallop along an uneven rocky sun ace. It was more like a distant ecno than an original sound. It seemed to come from the face of the mountain, where no horse, I knew, could go at that speed, even if its rider courteu eer tain destruction. There was a pecu liarity, too. In the sound,—a certain tinkle, or clank, which I fancied my " self able, by auricular analysis, to distingtiisli from tin* body of the sound. A terror—strange even to my experience seized me. and I hastened home. The sounds gradually died away as 1 descended the nill. Could they have been an echo from some precipice of the mountain? I knew of no road lying so that. If a horse were galloping upon it, the sounds would be reflected from the mountain to me. The next day. In one of my rambles, I found myself near the cottage of my old foster mother, who was dis tantly related to us, and was a trusted servant in the family at the time 1 was born. On the death of my | mother, which took place almost Im mediately after my birth, she had j taken the entire charge of me, and had brought me up, thougn with dilli culty: for she used to tell me, I should never be folk or fairy. For ' some years she hail lived alone in n cottage, at the bottom of a deep green circular hollow, upon which, In walk- j Ing over a heathy tableland, one came with a suuden surprise. I was her frequent visitor. She was a tall, tliln, aged woman, with eager eyes, and well defined, cloar-cut features. Her voice was harsh, but with an undertone of great tenderness. She was scrupulously careful In her at tire, which was rather above her station. Altogether, she had much the bearing of a gentlewoman. Her devotion to trie whs ijulte motherly. Never having lunl any family of her own, although site had been the wife of one of my fath'T's shepherds, she expended the whole maternity of her nature upon me. She was always my first resource In any perplexity, for I was sure of all the help she could give me. And as she had much Influence with my father, who was rather se vere In his notions, I had had oc casion to beg her Interference. No necessity of this sort, however, had led to my visit on the present oc casion. I ran down the side of the basin, and entered the little cottage. Nurse was seated on a chair by the wall, with her usual knitting, a stocking, In one hand; but her hands were mo tionless, and her eyes wioe open and fixed, f knew that the neighbors stood rather in awe of her, on tho ground that she had the second sight; but, although she often torn us fright ful enough stories, she hail never al luded to such a gift as being 111 her possession. Now I concluded nt once that, she was "seeing." I was con firmed In this conclusion when, seem ing to come to herself suddenly, sin covered her head "Ith her plaid, and sobbed audibly, In spile of her effort* to command herself. Hut I old nol dare to ask her any questions, nor did she attempt any excuse for tier behavior. After a few moments she unveiled herself, rose, and welcomed me with her usual kindness; then got me some refreshment, and began to quest ion me about matters at home. After a pause she said suddenly; "When are you going to get your commission, iMincnn, do you know?" I replied that I had heard nothing of it; that I did not think my fattier nad Influence or money enough to procure un- one, and thai I feared I should have no such good chance of dlstin giilslilng myself. She did not answer, but. nodded her head three times, slowly, and with compressed lips, ap parently as much as to say: "I know I tetter." .lust as I was leaving her It occurred to me to mention that I had heard an odd sound the night before She turned toward mc and looked al me fixedly. "What was it like, I turn-ail, my dear?" "I.lke a liors • galloping wlin a loose shoe," I replied. "Ituticali! Ituucan, my darling!" she said, In a low, trembling voice, but with passionate earueMiuess, "you did not hear It? Tell me that you did not hear it! You only want to fright en poor old nurse; Some one lias been telling you the story." Ii was my turn to be frightened now; for the matter became at once associated with my fears as to tin possible nature of my auricular pc (■Hilarities, I assured her that noth Ing was further fiotn my intention than to rlighten tier; that, on lie con trary, In- had rather alarmed me; and I begged her to explain; but she sat down, white and tremnilng, and did not peak. Presently, however, slur rose again, and saying "I have known It happen sometimes without anything very bad following," began to put away the basin and plate I had been using, as If she would compel herself to be calm before ine I renewed my entreaties for mi explanation, but without avail. She begged me to bc cotitciil for a few days, as she was quite tillable to tell the story at pres out. Sin- promised, however, of ncr 1 own accord, that before I left home she would tell mc all she knew. The next day a letter arrived, an ■intuiting tin- death of a distant re la Hon, through whose liiiinetice my | father had had a lingering hope of ob taining an appointment for me. There was nothing left but to look out for a situation as tutor. CHAPTER 111. mv oi.i> xvksk's sTouir. 1 was now almost nineteen. I bail completed the usual curriculum of study at one of the Scotch universi ties; and, possesed of a fair knowledge of mathematics and physics, ami what 1 considered rather more than a good foundation for classical and meta physical acquirement. I resolved to apply for the lirst suitable situation that offered. But I was spare i the trouble. A certain Lord Hilton, an English nobleman, residing in one of the midland counties, having heard that one of my father's sons was de sirous of sncli a situation, wrote to him. offering me the jtost of tutor to his two boys, of the ages of ton and twelve. He had been partly educated at a Scotch university; ana this, it may be, had prejudiced him in favor of a Scotch tutor; while an ancient al liance of the families by marriage was supposed by my nurse to be the rea son of his offering me the situation. Of this connection, however, my fath er said nothing to me, and it went for nothing in my anticipations- I was to receive a hundred pounds a year, and to hold in the family the position of a gentleman, which might mean any thing or nothing, according to the dis position of the heads of the family. Preparations for my departure were immediately commenced. I set out one evening ior the cot tage of my old nurse, to bid her good bye for many months, probably years, j was to leave the next day for Edin burgh, on my way to London, wnencc I had to repair by coach to my new abode —almost to me like the land be yond the grave, so little did 1 know about it, ami so wide was the sepa ration between it and my nome. The evening was sultry when i began my . walk, and before I arrived at its end the clouds rising from all quarters of the horizon, and especially gathering around the peaks of the mountain, betokened the near approach of a thunder storm. This was a great de light to me. Gladly would I take leave of tny home with the memory of a last night of tumultuous magnifi cence; followed, probably, by a day of weeping rain, well suiteu to the mood of my own heart in bidding farewell to the best of parents and tbo best of homes. Besides, in com mon with most Scotchmen who are young and hardy enough to be unable to realize the existence of coughs ami I rheumatic fevers, it was a pos.tive j pleasure to be out in rain, nail or 1 snow. "I am come to bid you good bye. Margaret, and to hear the story which ' you promised to tell me before I left l home. I go to morrow." "Do you go so soon, my darling? Well, It will be an awful night to iell It In, but as I promised, I suppose I > must." At the moment two or three great drops of rain, the lirst of the storm, fell down the wide chimney, explod ing in the clear turf Are. "Yes, indeed you must," i replied. After a short padse she commenced. Of course she spoke in Gaelic; and I translate from my recollection of the i Gaelic, but rather from the Impression left upon my mind, than from any recollection of the words, sno drew h*»r chair near the f-< r urli vrr* rr.o.uu Uu. WoUitl boon no put out by the falling rain, and began: '•now old the story Is I do not know. It has come down through many gen erations. My grandmother told it to me as I tell It to you; and her mother and my mother sat beside, never In terrupting, but nodding their heads at every turn. Almost It ought to begin like the fairy tales, Once upon a time,' It took place so long ago; but it Is too dreadful and too true to tell llkc a fairy tale. There were two brothers' sous of the chief of our clan, but as different In appearance anil disposition as two men could be. The elder was falr-halred and strong, much given to hunting and fishing; lighting, too, upon occasion, I dare say, when they made a foray upon the Saxon to get. back a mouthful of their own. But lie was gentleness it self lo everyone about him, anil the very soul of honor iu all his doings. The younger was very dark In com- j plcxlon, and tall and slender com- , pared to his brother, lie was very fond of book learning, which, they say, was very uncommon In those times, lie did not care for any sports I or bodily exercises but one; and that, too, was unusual In these parts. It was horsemanship. lie was a tierce rider, and as much at home in'the saddle ns In his stony chair. You may t'hlnk that, so long ago, there was not much lit room for riding hereabouts; but fit or not lit, he rode. From Ids reading and riding, the neighbors looked doubtfully upon him, and whispered about the black art. He usually bestrode a groin, powerful black horse, without a white hair on him; and people said it was either the devil himself, or a demon horse from the devil's own stud. What favored this notion was, that, In or out of the stable, the brute would let no other than his master go near him. In deed, no one would venture, after he had killed two men, and grievously maimed a third, tearing lilui with Ills teeth and hoofs like a wild beast. Hut to ids master lie was obedient as a hound, and would even tremble In his presence sometimes. "The youth's temper corresponded to his habits, lie was both gloomy and passionate. Prone lo anger, lie had never been known to forgive. De barred from anything on which he had si t his heart he would have gone mad with longing ir he had not gone mad with rage. Ills soul was like the night around ue now, dark and sultry ami silent, but lighted up by the red lonveu of wrath, and torn by the hel lowlngs of thunder passion, lie must have his will; hell might have ids soul. Imagine, then, the rage and malice In his heart, when lie suddenly bociiiiic aware that an orphan girl, distantly related to them, who had lived with them for nearly two years, ji in I whom lie hud loved for almost all thai period, was loved by his elder brother mid loved lilui In return, lie flung his right hand above Ids head, swore a terrible oath that If lie might not, his brother idiould not, rushed out at llie lioumo and g.-illopcd 11IT among ih<- hill*. | "The orphan was a beautiful girl, lull, pule mid slender, with plentiful j dark hair, which, when released from I tin' iiood, rippled down below her | knees Iter appearance formed a 1 •iiroiir contrast with that of. her fa wired lover, while there was some re tciiiMuiK'c between her and the young I er brother. This fact seemed, to lilh ' Hen i- ■■lllslinesH, ground for a prior i claim. "II may appear strange that a man 1 like him Mioulil not have had Insiant ri colli 1 " to lilh superior and hidden knowledge, by means of which he i might have g</t rid of fcls rival wnu far more of certainty and less of risk: but I presume that, for the moment, his passion overwhelmed his con sciousness of skill. \ct I do not sup pose that he foresaw the mode iu which his hatred was about to oper ate. At the moment when he learned their mutual attachment, probably through a domestic, the lady was on her way to meet her lover as he re turned from the day's sport. The ap pointed place was on the edge of a deep, rocky ravine, down in whose dark bosom brawled and foamed a lit tle mountain torrent. You know the place, Duncan, my dear, 1 dare say." i Ilere she gave ine a minute descrip tion of the spot, with directions how to find it.) "Whether anyone saw what I am about to relate, or whether it was put together afterward, I cannot lull. The ■tory is like an old tree —so old that it has lost the marks of its growth. But this is liow my grandmother told it to me. An evil chance led him in the right direction. The lovers, start led by the sound of the approaching horse, parted in opposite directions, along a narrow mountain path, on the edge of tlie ravine. Into tuts path lie struck at a point near where the lov ers had met. but to opposite sides of which they had now receued; so that he was between them on the path. Turning his horse tip the course of the stream, he soon came in sight of his brother on the ledge before him. With a suppressed scream of rage lie rode headlong at him, and ere he had time to make the least defence, hurled him over the precipice. 'Hie helpless ness of the strong man was uttered ui pne single despairing cry as he shot into the abyss. Then all was still. The sound of his fall could not reach the edge of the gulf. Divining in a mo ment that the lady, whose name was Elsie, must have fled in the opposite direction, he reined his steed on hiy haunches. lie could touch the preci pice with his bridle hand half out stretched; his sword hand half out stretched, would have dropped it stone to the bottom of the ravine. There was no room to wheel. One desperate practicability alone remained. Turn ing liis horse's head toward the edge, he compelled hiin, by means of th« powerful bit, to rear till ne stoou al most erect; and so, his body swaying over the gulf, with quivering and straining muscles, to turn on his bind legs. Having completed the half clr.-. vie, he let lilin drop, anu urged him furiously in the opposite direction. It must have been by the devil s own care that he was able to continue his gallop along that ledge of rock. ! "He soon caught sight of the maj. den. She was leaning, half fainting, against the precipice. She had heard her lover's last cry, and although it had conveyed no suggestion of his voice to her ear, she trembled from head to foot and her limbs would lwar her no further. He checked hi» speed, rode Mcmly up to her, lifted ncr, un resisting, laid her across the shoulders of his horse, and, riding carefully till he reached a more open path, dashed again wildly along the mountain side. . The lady's long hair was shaken loose, and drooped trailing on the ground. The horse trampled uihui It and stum bled, half dragging her from the sad dle bow. He caught her, lifted her up and looked at her face. She was dead. I suppose lie went mad. 11,. laid her again across the saddle before hint, and rode i I her. Horse and man an»t maiden were found the next day lying at tho foot of a cliff dashed to pieces. It was observei,' that a hind shoe of tu< "»orse was Jnose and broken. \\ ...-iner this had been the cause of his fall, could not le told; but ever when he races, as race he will till the day of doom, along that mountain side, Ills gallop is mingled with the clank of the loose and broken shoe. For, like the sin, the punishment Is awful; in- shall carry about for ages the phantom body of the girl, knowing that her soul Is away, sitting with flic soul of his brother, down in the deep ravine, or scaling with him tin- topmost crags of the towering mountain peaks. There are some who, from time to time, seo the doomed man careering along the face of the mountain, with the lady hanging across the stceu; and they say It always betokens a storm, such as this which Is now raging around I us." I had not noticed, till now, so ab sorbed had 1 been lu her tale, that the storm had risen lo a very ecstasy of fury. "They say, likewise, that the huly'a hair Is still growing; for, every time they see her, II Is longer than before; and that now, such Is its length, and the headlong speed of the oorse, that It floats and streams out behind ,lke one of those curved clouds, like a comet's tail, fir p In the sky; only tho cloud Is white, and tne hair dark as night. And they say It will go on growing till the last day, when the hcrsc will falter and tier hair will gather In; and the horse will fall, ami the hair will twist and twine, and wreathe Itself like a mist of threads about him, and blind lilin to every thing but her. Then the body will rise up within It, face to face with him, animated by a fiend, who, twin lug her arms around tilm, will drag hI in down to Ihe bottomless pit." I may mention something which now occurred, and which had a strange effect upon my old nurse. It Illustrates the assertion that we see around us only what Is within us; marvelous things enough will show themselves to the marvelous mood. During n short lull In tin- storm. Just as she had finished her story, we heard tlk* sound of Iron-shod hoofs approaching the cottage. There was no bridle way into the glen. A knock came lo the door, and, oil opening 11, we saw au old man seated on a horse, with a long, slenderly tilled sack lying across Ihe saddle before him lie. said In- had lost Hie path lu Ihe storm, and, seeing the light, had scrambled down to Inquire his way. I perceived at once, from the scared ami inyKic rlous look of the old woman's eyes, that she was persuaded liiat this ap pearance had more than a Utile to do with the awful rider, the terrific storm, and myself, who had heard tin sound of tin* phantom hoofs. As nc ascended the 1111 l site looked lifter hilil, with wide and pale, but unshrinking eyes; then turning lu. shut and locked the door behind her, as If by a uatii rnl Instinct. After two or three of ncr significant nods, accompanied by the compression of iter lips, she said "He need not think to take me lu, wizard as lie Is, Willi Ills disguises. I can see hI in through incm all linn can, my dear, when you suspect any thing, do E-d IK- too Incredulous. This human demon Is of course a wizard still, and knows how to make hlui self, as well as anything lie touches, take quite a different appearance from tlie real one; only every appearance must bear some resemblance, however ] distant, to the natural form. That man at tin- door was ilu- phantom of which I have been iclllpg you. What he is after now. of ooornt' 1 cannot toll; but you must keep a bold heart, a&d a firm au«l wary foot, as you go home to-night." I showed some surprise. I do not doubt: anil, perhaps, some fear as well: but 1 only said: "How do you know him, Margaret?" "I can hardly tell you." sue replied; "but 1 do know him. 1 think he hates me. Ofteu. of a wild night, when there is moonlight enough l>y fits. 1 see him tearing around this little val ley, just on the top edge— all arounu; the ladys hair and the horse's mane and the tail driving far behind, and mingling, vaporous, with ue stormy clouds. About he goes, in wild, Cftpeer ing gallop, now lost as the moon goes (n. theft visible far round when she looks out again—an airy, pale gray specter, which few eyes but mine could see; for. as I am aware, no one of the family but myself has ever pos sessed the double gift of seeing and hearing both. In this ease I foear no sound, except now and then a chink from the broken shoe. But I did not mean to tell you that I had ever seen him. I am not a bit afraid of him. lie cannot do more than ne may. His power l« limited: else 1H enough would he work, the miscreant!" "Hut," said I, "what has all this, terrible as it is. to do witn the fright you took at my telling you that I had heard tlie sound of the broken shoe? Surely you are not afraid of only a storm?" "No. my boy; 1 fear uo storm. But ih" fact U, that the sound is seldom heard, and never, as far as 1 ku.i-v. Ny any of the blood of that wicked man. without betokening some ill to one of the family, and most probably to the one who hears it—but I am not quito sure about that. Only evil it does {Hirteud, although u long time may elapse before it shows Itself; ;md 1 have a hope It may mean some one else than you." "Do not wish that," I replied. "I know no one better able to In-ar it than I am; aud 1 hope, whatever it may be. that I only shall have to meet it. It must surely l»e something seri ous to i»e so foretold; it can hardly 'k> connected with my disappointment !n being compelled to be a jtedagogue In stead of a soldier." "Do not trouble yourself about that. Duncan," replied she. "A soldier you must be. The same day you told -tie of the clank of the broken horseshoe, I saw you return wounded from bat tle. and fall fainting from your horse in the street of a great city—only fainting, thank «Jod! Hut I have par ticular reasons for being uneasv at your bearing that Isxllng sound. Can you tell me the day and hour of your birth?" "No," I replied. "It aeems very odd when 1 think of 11. but 1 really <fo not know even the day." "Nor any one else; which Is stranger still," she answered. "llow does that happen, nurse?" "We were In terrible anxiety about your mother at the time. So 111 was she, after you wrtc just lwrn, lu a strange, unaccountable way, that you lay almost neglected for more than an hour. In the very act of giving birth to you. she seemed to the rest around her to be out of her mind, so wildly did she talk; but 1 knew better. I knew that sl.o was lighting some evil power; and what power It was, I knew full well; for twice, (luring her pains, I heard the click of the horse shoe. tint no one could help her. After her delivery, she lay as If in a trance, neither dead, nor at rest, but as If frozen to Ice, ami conscious of It nil the while. Once more I heard the Terrible sound of Iron; anu, at the moment, your mother started from her trance, screaming. 'My child! my child!' We suddenly became aware that no one hud attended to the child, gml rushed lo the place where he lay wrapped In a blanket. Uncovering blui, we found blm ldnck in the face, and spotted with dark spots upon the throat. I thought lie was dead; but, with greut and almost hopeless pains, we succeeded lu making him breathe, ami he gradually recovered. Hut his mother continued dreadfully exhaust oil. It seemed as if she had spent her life for her c.Uld's defense nml birth. That was you, Duncan, my dear. "I was lii conn taut attendance upon lior. About a week after your birth, an near ax 1 ran guess, JUHI lu the gloaming, 1 heard yet again the aw ful clank -only once. Nothing fol lowed till aixjiit midnight. Your mother slept, and you lay asleep be Hide her. 1 Kilt t>y the bedside. A horror fell upon me suddenly, I hough I neither saw nor heard anything. Your mother marled from her sleep with a cry, which sounded as If It came from far away, out of a dream, and did not belong to this world. My blood curdled with fear. She sat up In bed, with wide, Htarlng eyes, and half open, rigid Itpn, and. feeble as she was, thrust her arms straight out before her with great force, her hands open and lifted up, with the palms outward. The whole action was of one violently repelling another. She began to talk wildly as she bad done before you were Itom. but, though I seemed to hear and unuoratand It all at the time, I could not recall a word of It afterward. It was as If I had listened to It when half asleep. I at tempted to Hootlic her, putting my arms nround her, but she seemed quite unconscious of my presence, and my arms seemed powerless ujion the fixed muscles of hers. Not tliat I tried to constrain her, for I knew that a bat tle was going on of Home kind or oth er, anu my Interference might do aw ful mischief. I only tried to comfort and encourage her. All the time, I was lu a state of Indescribable cold and suffering, whether more bodily or mental I could not tell, Unt at length I heard yet again the clank of the shoe. A sudden peace seemed to fall upon my mind or was It a warm, odoroUN wind that tilled the room? Your mother dropped her arms, and turned feebly toward her baby. She taw that he slept a blessed sleep. Hhe smiled like a glorified spirit, and fell back exhausted on tne pillow. 1 went to the other Hide of the room [o get a cordial. When I returned to the tiedslde, 1 saw at once that she »vas dead. Her face mulled still, with in expression of the uttermost bliss." Nurse ceased, trembling as overcome by the recollection; and I was too much moved and awed to speak. At length, resuming the conversation, she •aid : "You see It Is no wonder, IMm ran. my dear. If, after all this, I •hould liud. when I wanted to tlx the date of your birth. Unit I could not determine the day or the hour when It took place. All wan confusion In my poor brain. Hut In wan ntrange that mi niir eme could, any more than I. One thing only I ran tell you alx»ut It. An I carried yMI across the room to lay you down, f <r I assisted at your birth, I happened to look up to the window. Then I »»w what I did not forget, although I did not think of It again till many d yn after- a bright star wan sinning n the very Up of tlii; thlu crescent i|oou-" No. 43 "Oli. then." said I. 'lt Is possible to determiiu i lie day and the very hour when my birth toe It place." "See the gixid of liookdearning"* re plied she. "When you work It out, Just let me know, ny dear, that I may remember it." "That 1 will." A silence of some moments followed. Margaret resumed: "1 am afraid you will laugh at my foolish fancies. Duncan; but in think ing over all these things, as you ns&y supiMtse 1 often do. lying awake In my lonely lied, the notion sometimes comes to me: What if my Duncan be the youth whom his wicked brother hurled into the ravine, come again In ii new body, to live out his life on the earth, cut short by his brother's hat red? If >o. his persecution of you, and of your mother for your sake, is easy to understand. And If so you will never Ik 1 able to rest till you find your fere, wherever she may have iH-en liorn on tlit* face of the earth. For born she must be, long ere now, for you to find. 1 misdoubt me much, however, if you will find her without great "conflict and suffering between, fix - ilie Powers of Darkness will be against you; though I have good hope that you will overcome at last. You Jj must forgive the fancies of a foolish __ old woman, my denr." I will not try to describe the strange feelings, almost sensations, that arose in me whllo listening to these extra ordinary utterances, lest It should be »up|H>sed 1 was ready to believe all that Margaret narrated or concluded. I could not help doubting her sanity; but no more could I help feeling very peculiarly moved by her narrative. I went out Into the midst of the storm, iuto the alternating throbs of blackness and radiance; now the pos- ' lessor of no more room than what my body tilled, and now isolated in world wide space. And the thunder seemed to follow me, liellowing after me as I went. Absorbed in the story I had heard, I took my way, as I thought, home ward, The whole country was well known to me. I should have said, be fore that night, that I could have gone home blindfold. Whether the light ning bewildered mo and made me take a false turn. I cannot telL But after wandering for some time, plunged In meditation, and with no warning whatever of the presence of inimical powers, a brilliant lightning-flash showed mo Hint at least I was not near home. The light was prolonged for a second otf two by a slight elec tric pulsation; and by that I distin guished a wide space of blackness on the ground lu front of me. Once more wrapped In the folds of a thick dark ness, 1 dared not move. Suddenly It occurred to me what the blackness was, and whither 1 had wandered. It was a huge quarry, of great depth, long disused, and half filled with wa ter. I knew the place perfectly. A few more steps would have carried me over the brink. 1 stood still, wait ing for the next flash, that I might l»e quite sure of the way I was about to take before I ventured to move. While 1 stood, 1 fancied I heard a single hollow plunge in the black wa ter far lielow. When the lightning came, I turned, and took my path In another direction. After walking for some time across the heath, I fell. The fall became a roll, and down a steep declivity I went, over and orer, arriving at thn bottom uninjured. Another flash soon showed me where I was,—in the hollow valley, within a couple of hundred yards from nurse's cottage. 1 made my way toward It. There was no light in it, except tlio feeblest glow from the embers of her peat lire. "She Is In bed," I said to myself, "and I will not disturb her." Yet something drew me toward the little window. I looked In. At first I could see nothing. At length, as I kept gazing, I saw something indis tinct in the darkness, like an out" stretched human form. By this time the storm had lulled. The inoon had been up for some time, but had been concealed by tempestu ous clouds. Now, however, they had begun to break up; and, while I stood looking Into the cottage, they scat tered away from the face of the moon, and a faint vapory gleam of her light, entering the cottage through a window opposite that at which I irtood, fell di rectly on the face of my old nurse, as she lay on her back, outstretched upon chairs, pale as death, and with her eyes closed. The light fell nowhere but on her face. A stranger to her habits would have thought she was dead; hut she had so much the up l»earanee she had had on a former occasion, that 1 concluded at once sho was in one of her trances. But, hav ing often heard that persons In such h condition ought not to be disturbed, and feeling quite sure she know best Jiow to manage herself, I turned, though reluctantly, and left the lone cottage behind mc In the night, with > the death like woman lying motionless 111 the midst of it. I found my way home without any further difficulty; and went to bed, where I soon fell asleep, thoroughly wearied, more by tho montal excite ment I had been experiencing, than by the amount of bodily exercise I had gone through. My sleep was tormented with awful dreams; yet, strange to say, 1 awoke In the morning refreshed and fearless. The sun was shining through the chinks in my shutters, which bad beau closed because of tho storm, and was making streaks and bands of golden brilliancy upon the wall. I had dressed and completed my prepara tions long before I heard the steps of the servant who cainc to call me. (To UK CoNTINUKU ) PHILOSOPHIC BREVITIES, Temptation Is a spy upon our virtue*, !o be Mhot ut night. Slanderers cannot buzz long without hit lug. Cities are the tombs of nature, the cradles of art. Timidity Is the bait all the wolves of (he Held snap at. Man's cowardice Is best proved by lils Idolatrous worrhlp of courage. ICxperlence has a circular orbit— If unobserved, it will call again. Wentimentallsm Is lack of thought under an Illusion of love. Courage Is an Iron string, but it makes (he music humanity most cares for. It is hard to resent u universal evil, therefore humanity Is tolerant of vice In general. The coldest heart has Its cozy nooks where the frost-flowers look rather lummery ut times. I'hyslcally life haa perhaps mora pleasure than pain; mentally or mor ally it Is very doubtful.
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