\'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.