V OL- xxxv
I pnfITWRAR FOR ALL
I the fahilv
H It is important in every household in Butler
■ county to see that each member of the family
■ has good. warm, substantial footwear.
I The Boys and Girls that go to School
■ over the rough roads, through the mud and slush,
H must be looked after. Cheap, Shoddy Shoes won't
■ fill the bill at this season of the year. You ask where
■ ghall 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
K
What he recommends you are safe in buying, fie won't tell
you that 65c, 88c and 98c shoes will keep out going
to school.
■ £h Boys' and Youths' Shoes. , buttonorlace - tj p or i )lain ' 85c
Heavy tap-sole shoes. ?.v* to sl. S ee ourJenness M iller Shoes, of
■ Heavy oil grain,tap-sole, $1.25 t0 $l5O. Dress Reform. Vv e are sole
■ Heavy oil grain, tap-sole. No-Rip agents for Butler county. ihe
<*i <sn t/i i fiTi finest most perfect htsin.g shoe made.
■ High cut Bengal calf *1 50 to $1.75. . *■*>■ Try a pair.
Satin calf, very fine, $135 to 51. 50. ,
Box calf, heayy soles, $1.50 to $2. i 0T ulnS oChOOI
Little gents' veal and box calf, 75c,
H $1 and $1.25. Our unlined kip and veal calf. button
See our Jamestown High-cut and lace, solid as a rock, at 7-5 cto sl.*o.
copper tip shoes, two soles and tap, best Kangaroo, crack-proof, a rat box calf,
in Bntler $1.75 and $2. 50c. 75c, $1 and $1.25.
Kid ahoes at 45c to $1.50.
Fnr Wnmpn Reliability stands out from every
stitch made in young ladies", girls' and
. .... » children's spring heel, lace or button.
An unusual combination of style, ele
gance. com tort and economy. They are _
the best women's shoe "find" of the rOP Men.
year. They are selling faster than any
shoes we have ever offered By all odds the greatest shoes for men
Kid shoes, McKay sewed, 85c to $1.25. we ever sold. Ten styles. Something
Kid, heavy sole shoes, others ask $2.25 for every taste in winter tan box c.alf.
and #2.50; our price $2. enamels and wax cjalf, at $2. $2.50, $3
Kid or box calf, kangaroo and oil and $8.50.
grain, $1 to $1.25. Veal and kip, box toe shoes at $1.50
One lot ladies'fine hand turns, $1.50; and $2.
former price $3.75. i Patent leather shoes at $2 to $5.
Warm lined shoes, 50c to $1.25. Heavy two-sole and tap Creedinores
We are known all oyer Bntler connty at SI to $1.50.
for onr serviceable nnlined kip and veal Heayy boots. $1.50 to. $2.50.
I Our Stock Rubber Boots and Wool Bouts
the best. All fresh, made to our order. We don't recommend all cheap shoes;
we have them if yon want them, and better goods than any honse in Butler can
produce. These are all fresh goods direct from the manufacturer, and no old
job lots that are set aside to be sold for what they will bring in this stock. Come
in and see how we do business.
I B. C. HUSELTONS,
Butler's Leading Shoe House. Opposite Hotel Lowry.
■ t HE IS A WISE HAN \
B' | —WHO SECUKES HIS CLOTHING FROM—
Is J. S. YOUNG, -J
■ t THE MERCHANT TAILOR, £
£ The goods, style, fit and general make a
5 up of his suits a
I 5 TELL their own
■ z ISTR,v,NGl STR,v,NG FOR EFFECT
i Men won't boy clothing for tie purpose
j f JTV I S of s P trif '' n K nintiey Thej d> sire to get the
I V <V ) \ '• St """S'ble results for the motley expeud
li J j fled. Not cheap goods *>ut goods as .cheap as
« \ y Wliey can be (-old and made up propelly If
jterU ' 1 - ~~~\ iT- - /vou want the correct thins at the correct
w 'j I V f* r"s wP r ' ce ca " °" us, we nave teduced our eprinj;
» I i V ttand summer goods down to make room for
\ I|| /\\ lIJ- _ %<'Ur heavy weight go<xls,
■ \ Ki\ \vj- I
I /PI I p '■
■ II n | Fits Guaranteed.
LS I . Merchant Tailor,
H 142 N. Main St., Butler
I Papc s r °s,
I JEWEb€RS.
We Will Save You Money On
Watches Clocks, >
; Silverware, 1847 Rodger Bros. I
H S Plateware and Sterling Silver
(Goods. <
Our Repair Department takes ill all kinds of Witches, Clocks
and Jewelry, etc
122 S. Main St.
Old gold and silver taken the same as cash.
.. .. .. ...
■ "| IE Beit Imm h fsi Paißi '
■; I H. W. Johns' AS&ISfffS- Liquid Wi*
BCNO roa OMIPLCS. »OCCCST!Cr:C. ETC.
H G& W- Campbel , Butler, P.
jSfa.v
-oi J 'lyii I
THE BUTLER CITIZEN.
Constipation
C'aus' fully half tlio sickness in the world- It
retail the digested food too long in the bowels
mil [.roduces biliousness, torpid liver. Indl-
Hood's
yestion, bad taste, coated a ■ ■
, tongue, sick headache. In- all
] sotnnia. etc. Hood's Pills ■ 111
■
res.:lts easily and thoroughly. 2. r >c. All druggists-
Prt Tared by C. I. Hood & Co., Lowell. Mass
! *ti- oal? tills to use with Skid's Sarsaparilla-
Thousands arn Trying It.
lii ordei to prove the great merit of
Ely's ('ream Balm, the most effective cure
for Catarrh and Cold in Kaad, we have pre
pared a generous trial size for 10 cents.
Get it of your druggist or send 10 cents to
ELY BltOS., r,G Warren St., N. Y. City.
I suffered from catarrh of the worst kind
ever since a boy, and i never hoped for
i cure, but Ely's Cream lialm teems to do
even that. Many acquaintances have used
it with excellent results. —Gscar Gstrum,
45 Warren Ave.. Chicago, 111.
Elv's Cream Balm is the acknowledged
curt) for catarrh ami contains no cocaine,
mercury nor any injurious drug. Price,
&0 cents. At druggists or by mail.
VICTOKV
Always crowns our efforts to
secure the handsomest and
most correct thing in Men's
Dress at all season's of the
year.
There's a fresh, bright
sparkle of style about our
spring patterns, the kind
that has snap and art in it.
We cater to the economical
man because our clothes
give a dollar of service for
every dollar_paid
Let us show you the kind of
a suit we make for
$25.
ALAND,
MAKER OF
MEN'S .LOTHES
E3i_itler, Pa.
Capiial - $60,0.0.00
Surplus and Profits - - $150,000
JOM LIPURVbi President
I. 11 EN BY 1 ROUT \IAN Vice-President
IV M CAM P.'SELL, Jr Ca» hier
I.OCIB B ST*.IN Teller
DIRECTORS -.Joseph L. * urvls, J. Henry
IToi-.t'tiaD. W. !). Brandon. W. A Stein, J. a.
<'..„i„hWl.
The Butler Savinis liank is the Oldest
Banking Institution, n Butler County.
General banking business transacted.
We solicit a'-connts of «il producers, mer
chants, farmers and others.
All b.islneas entrusted to us will receive
prompt, attention.
Interest mUI on time denoslts.
the:
Butier County National Bank,
Butler Penrc,
Capital p.i i in - - ft X), 000.00
Surplus and Profits - $H4,647.87
los. Hartman, President; J. V. Ritts,
/ice President; C. A. Bailey. Cashier;
John G. McMarlin, Ass't Cashier.
/ general banking buslne transacted.
Tiiterest paid on time deposits.
Money loaned on approved security.
We invite you to open an account with this
bank.
DIRECT )RS— Hon. Joseph Hartman, Hon.
W. S. Waidron, Dr. iN. M Hoover, if. Mc-
Sweeney, E. E. Abrams. C. P. Collins I. G.
Smith. Leslie P. Hazlett, M. Finegin, W.
W. 11. I.arkln, John Humphrey, Dr. W. C.
McCandiess, lien Masseth. I.evl M. Wise
J. V. Ritu
Pearson B. Nace's
Livery Feed and Sale Stable
Rear of
Wick House, Butler, Penn'a.
The best of horses and first class rigs al
ways 011 hand and for hire.
Best accommodations in town for perma
nent boarding and transient trade. Speci
al care guaranteed.
Stable Room For 65 Horses.
A good class of horses, both drivers and
draft horses always on hand and for sale
under a full guarantee; and horses bought
upon proper notification by
PEARSON B. NACE.
Telephone, No. 219.
(11l MFAI (OUR OLD PROCESS)
w'L Intnl. Now very cheap
Peed for Horses. Cows, Sheep, Hogs, Fowls
etc. Health, strength and productive power
to animals. Are you feeding it? Cheapest
feed In the market
I INQFFfI nil AND WHITE LEAD
LINdtCU UIL Makes paint last for
years on house, barn or fence. Mixed puinis
are doubtful quality: some good and some
ve-v bad. Write for our circular.
FOl pure Linseed oil or meal, and white
lead, "ask for "Thompson's," or address
manufacturer. THOMPSON &.0., 15 W
Diamond street Allegheny. Pa.
" MODEL
Farm for Sale
I want to sell tay farm of 235 acres
in Oakland twp., adjoining P.oyds
town, six miles north of Butler.
There is no better land for all kinds
of crops in Butier county. My wheat
and grass, tins year, cannot be beat.
Come and see them.
Two good orchards, some young
timber, and an abundance of the
best of Spring water.
The builbings • onsist of a good,
six room, frame house; one large,
new, modern bi-rn, and a large old
one; al.-o all the necessarv outbuild
ings, including a summer kitchen.
I want to quit farming because 1 am
alone, and will sell at a bargain on
easy terms.
A part of the farm is ui derlaid
with three aud fonr f cet veins of
coal, with one bank opened; and t' e
new railroad is surveyed within
100 rods of the house.
For terms address or call upon,
Peter Whitmire,
SONORA, P. 0.
Butler Savings Bank
BUTLER, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 10, IS9S
11 p®ij
CHAI'TEK IV.
HILTON HALL.
As my father accompanied me to
! ihe door, where the giff which was
I to carry me over the first stage of
my journey, was In waiting, a large
target of hide well studded with brass
nails, which had hung in the hall for
time unknown—to me at least— fell
on the floor with a dull bang. My fath
er started, but said nothing; and. as
it seemed to me. rather pressed my
departure than otherwise. I would
have replaced the wld piece of armor
before I went, but he would not allow
me to touch it. saying, with a grim
smile:—
"Take that for an omen, my boy,
that your armor must be worn over
the conscience, and not over the body.
He a man, Duncan, my l>oy. Fear
nothing, and do your duty."
A grasp of the hand was all the
good-by I could mak»; and I was soon
rattling away to meet the coach for
Edinburgh and London.
I reached London in safety," and
slept at the house of an old friend of
my father, who treated me with
great kindness, and seemed altogether
to take a liking to me. Before I left,
he held out a hope of being able, some
day or other, to procure for me what
I so much desired —a commission in
the army.
After spending a day or two with
him. and seeing something of Lon
don, I climbed once more on the roof
of a coach; and, late in the afternoon,
was set down at the great gate of
Hilton Hall. I walked up the broad
avenue, through the final arch of
which, as through a huge Gothic win
dow, I saw the hall in the distance.
Everything about me looked strange,
rich, and lovely. A statue on a pedes
tal, the only white thing in the sur
rounding green, caught my eye. I
had seen scarcely any sculpture; and
this, attracting my attention by a
favorite contrast of color, retained it
by its own beauty. It was a Dryad,
or some nymph of the woods, who
had just glided from the solitude of
the trees behind, and had sprung up
on the pedestal to look wonderingly
around her. A few large brown leaves
lay at her feet, borne thither by some
eddying wind, from the trees behind.
As I gazed, filled with a new pleas
ure, a drop of rain upon my face made
me look up. From a gray, fleecy
cloud, with sun-whitened border, a
light, gracious, plentiful rain was fail
ing. A rainbow sprung across the
sky, and the statue stood within the
rainbow. At the same moment, from
the base of the pedestal rose a figure
in white, graceful as the Dryad above,
and neither running, nor appearing
to walk quickly, y«t fleet as a ghost,
glided past me at a few paces' dis
tant, and, keeping in a straight line
for the main entrance of the hall, en
tered by it and vanished.
I followed in the direction of the
mansion, which war. large, and of sev
eral gtyles and ages. One wing ap
peared especially ancient. It was neg
lected and out of repair, and had in
«l nImAP» —Qftnill.—
chral look; an expression heightened
by the number of large cypresses
which grew along its line. I went up
to the central door and knocked. It
was opened by a grave, elderly butler.
I passed under its flat arch, as if into
the midst of the waiting events of my
story. For, as I glanced around the
hall, my consciousness was suddenly
saturated, if I may be allowed the ex
pression, with the strange feeling
known to everyone, and yet so strange
—that I had seen It before; that, in
fact, I knew it perfectly. But what
was yet more strange, and far more
uncommon, was, that, although the
feeling with regard to the hall faded
and vanished instantly, and although
I could not in the least surmise the ap
pearance of any of the regions into
which I was about to be ushered, I
yet followed the butler with a kind of
indefinable expectation of seeing
something which I had seen before;
and every room or passage in that
mansion affected me, on entering it
for the first ume, f ith the same sen
sation of previous acquaintance which
I had experienced with regard to the
hall. This sensation, in every case,
died away at once, leaving that por
tion such as it might be expected to
look to one who had never before
entered the place.
I was received by the housekeeper,
a little, prim, beDevolent old lady,
with colorless face and antique head
dress, who led me to the room pre
pared for me. To my surprise, I
found a large wood-fire burning on the
hearth; but the feeling of the place
revealed at once the necessity for it;
and I scarcely needed to bo informed
that the room, which was upon the
ground floor, and looked out upon a
little, solitary, grars-grown, and ivy
mantled court, had not been used for
years, and therefore required to be
thus prepared for an inmate. My bed
room was a few paces down a pas
sage to the right.
Left alone, I proceeded to make a
more critical survey of the room. Its
look of ancient mystery was to me in
comparably more attractive than any
show of elegance or comfort could
hare been. It was largo and low,
paneled throughout in oak, black with
age, and worm-eaten in many parts
otherwise entire. Both the windows
looked into the little court or yard
before mentioned. All the heavier
furniture of the room was likewise
of black oak, but the chairs and
. couches wero covered with faded
tapestry and tarnished gilding, appar
ently the superannuated members of
the general household of seats. I
could give an individual description of
each, for every atom in that room
large enough for discc-rnable shape or
color, seems branded into my brain.
If I happen to have the least feverlsh
iiess on me, the moment I fall asleep,
1 am in that room.
CHAPTER V.
LAI'V ALICE.
When the bell rang for dinner, I
managed to find my way to the draw
ing-room, where were assembled Lady
Hilton, her only daughter, a girl of
about fhlrteen, and the two boys, my
pupils. Lady Hilton would have been
pleasant, could she have been as nat
ural as she wished to appear. She
received mc with some degree of
kindness; but the half-cordiality of
her manner toward me was evidently
founded on tho impassableness of the
gulf between us. I knew at once that
we should never be friends; that she
would never come down from the lofty
table-land upon which she walked;
and that if, after being years in tho
house, I should happen to be dying,
she would send the housekeeper to me.
All right, no doubt; I only say that it
was so. She introduced me to my
pupils—fine, open-eyed, manly English
boys, with something a little over
bfaring & th£lr g>9S9s r t which spjjed-
ily disappeared in their relation to me.
Lord Hilton was i"< at" home. Lady
Hilton led the way to the dining
room: the older boy gave his arm to
his sister, and I was about to follow
with the younger, when from one of
the deep bay-windows {rlideu out, st ill
in white, the same figure which had
passed me upon the lawn. I started,
and drew back. With a slight bow,
she iireceded me. and followed the
others down the great staircase.
Seated at table, I had leisure to make
my observations upon Jhem all. but
most of my glances found their way
to the lady who, twice that day, had
affected me like an apparition. What
is time, but the airy ocean in which
ghosts come and go!
She was about twenty years of age;
rather above the middle height, and
rather slight in form; her complexion
white rather than pule, her face be
ins: only less white than the deep
marbly whiteness of her arms. Iler
eyes were large, and full of liquid
night—a night throbbing with the
light of invisible stars. Her hair
seemed raven-black, and in quantity
profuse. The expression of her face,
however, generally partook more of
vagueness than any other characteris
tic. Lady Hilton < »k 1 her Lady
Alice; and she never addressed Lady
Hilton but in the same ceremonious
style.
I afterward learned, from the old
housekeeper, that Lady Alice's posi
tion in the family was a very peculiar
one. Distantly connected with Lord
Hilton's family on the mother's side,
she was the daughter of the late Lord
Glendarroeh, and step-daughter to
I.ady Hilton, who had become Lady
Hilton within a year after Lord Glen
darroeh's death. Lady Alice, then
quite a child, had accompanied her
step-mother, to whom she was mod
erately attached, and who had been
allowed to retain undisputed posses
sion of her. She had no near rela
tives, else the fortune I afterward
found to be at her disposal would
have aroused contending claims to the
right of guardianship.
Although she was in many respects
kindly treated by her step-mother, cer
tain peculiarities tended to her isola
tion from the family pursuits and
pleasures. Lady Alice had no accom
plishments. She could neither spell
her own language, nor even read it
aloud. Yet she delighted In reading
to herself, though for the most part
books which Mrs. Wilson character
ized as very odd. Ber voice when she
spoke had quite indescribable music
in It; yet she neither sung nor played.
Her habitual motion was more like a
rhythmical gliding than an ordinary
walk, yet she could not dance. Mrs.
Wilson hinted at other and more ser
ious peculiarities, svhicli either she
could not, or would not describe; al
ways shaking her head gravely and
sadly, and becoming quite silent,
when I pressed her for further explan
ation; so that, at Inst, I gave up all
attempts to arrive at an understand
ing of the mystery ty her means. Not
the less, however. I speculated on the
subject.
One thing soon became evident to
me; that she was considered not
merely deficient as to the power of
intellectual acquirement, but in a
quite abnormal intellectual condition.
Of this, however. I could myself see
ity, of some of her remarks was evi
dently not only m sunderstood, but.
with relation to her mental state, mis
interpreted. Such remarks Lady Hil
ton generally answered only by an
elongation of the liys intended to rep
resent a smile. To rue, they appeared
to indicate a nature closely allied to
genius, if not identical with it—a pow
er of regarding tliirgs from an origi
nal point of view, which perhaps was
the more unfettered in its operation
from the fact that ihe was incapable
of looking at them in the ordinary
commonplace way. It seemed to me,
sometimes, as if her point of observa
tion was outside of the sphere within
which the thing obfierved took place;
and as if what she said had a rela
tion, occasionally, to things and
thoughts and inentai conditions famil
iar to her, but at "vhlch not even a
definito guess could be made by me. I
am compelled to acknowledge, how
ever, that with such utterances as
these, mingled now and then others,
silly enough for any drawing-room
young lady; which seemed again to be
accepted by the family that she was
not altogether out of her right mind.
She was gentle and kind to the chil
dren, as they were still called, and
they seemed reasonably fond of her.
There was something to ma exceed
ingly touching in the solitariness of
this girl; for no one spoko to her as if
■he were like other people, or as IX
any heartiness could be possible be
tween them. Perhaps no one could
have felt quite at home with her but
a mother, whose heart uau been one
with hers from a season long anterior
to the development of any repulsive
oddity. But -er position was one of
peculiar isolation, for no one really
approached her individual Deing; and
that she should be unaware of this
loneliness seemed to me saddest of all.
I soon found, however, the most
distant attempt on my part to show
her attention was either received with
absolute indifference, or coldly repelled
without the slightest acknowledgment.
But I return to the first night of my
sojourn at Hiuon Hall.
CHAI'TEK VL
MY QUARTERS.
After making arrangements for
commencing work in the morning, I
took my leave, and retired to my own
room, Intent upon carrying out with
more minuteness the survey I had al
ready commenced: several cupboards
in the wall, and one or two doors, ap
parently of closets, had especially at
tracted my attention. Strange was its
look as I entered—as of a room hol
lowed out of the past, for a memorial
of dead times. The fire had sunk low,
and lay smoldering beneath the white
ashes, like the life of the world be
neath the snow, or the heart of a man
beneath cold and gray thoughts. I
lighted the candles which stood upon
the table, but the room, Instead of be
ing brightened, looked blacker than
before, for the light revealed its es
sential blackness.
As I cast my eyes around me, stand
ing with my back to the hearth (on
which, for mere conpanionship's sake,
I had Just heaped fresh wood), a thrill
ran suddenly throughout my frame.
I felt as if, did it last a moment long
er, I should become aware of another
presence in the room; but, happily for
me, it ceased before it had reached
that point; and I, recovering my
courage, remained ignorant of the
cause of my fear, if there were any,
other than the nature of the room it
self. With a candle in my hand, I
proceeded to open the various cup
boards and closets. At first I fouiid
nothing remarkable about any of
them. The latter were quite' empty,
except the last I came to, which had
a piece of very old elaborate tapestry
hanging at the back of it. Lifting
this up, I saw what seemed at first
to be panels, corresponding to those
which formed the room; but, 011 look
ing more closely. I discovered that
this back of the closet was. or had
been, a door. There was nothing un
usual In this, especially in such an
old house; but the discovery roused
in me a strong desire to know what
lay behind the old door. I found that
it was secured only l>y an ordinary
bolt, from which the handle had been
removed. Soothing my conscience
with the reflection that I had a right
to know what sort of place had com
munication with my room. I succeeded
by the help of my deer-knife, in forc
ing back the rusty bolt; and though,
from the stiffness of the hinses, I
dreaded a crack, they yielded :u !ast
with only a creak.
The opening door revealed a large
hall, empty utterly, save of dust and
cobwebs, which festooned it in all
quarters, and gave It an appearance
of unutterable desolation. The now
familiar feeling, that I had seen the
place before, filled my mind the tirst
moment, and passed away the next.
A broad, right-angled staircase, with
massive balusters, rose from 4he mid
dle of the ball. This staircase could
not have originally belonged to the
ancient wing which I had observed at
my first approach, being much more
modern; but I was convinced, from
the observations I bad made as to the
situation of the room, that I was bor
dering upon. If not within, the oldest
portion of the pile. In sudden horror,
lest I should hear a light footfall upon
the awful stair, I withdrew hurriedly,
and having secured both the doors,
betook myself to my bedroom, in
whose dingy four-post bed, with its
carving and plumes reminding me of a
hearse, I was soon ensconced amidst
the snowiest linen, with the 'sweet and
clean odor of lavender. In spite of
novelty, antiquity, speculation, and
dread, I was soon fast asleep; becom
ing thereby a fitter inhabitant of such
regions, through their ancient and
deathlike repose.
I made no nse of my discovered
door, although I alvrays intended do
ihg 30; especially after, in talking
about the building with Lady Hilton,
1 found that I was at perfect liberty
to make what excursions I pleased
into the deserted portions.
My pupils turned out to be teach
able, and therefore my occupation was
pleasant. Their sister frequently
came to me for help, as there happened
to be Just then an interreguum of gov
ernnesses; soon she settled into a reg
ular pupil.
After a few weeks, Lord Hilton re
turned. Though my room was so far
from the great hall, I heard the clank
of his spurs on its pavement. I trem
bled; for it sounded like the broken
6hoe. But I shook off the influence
in a moment, heartily ashamed of its
power over me. Soon I became fa
miliar enough both with the sound
and its cause; for his lordship rarely
went anywhere except on horseback,
and was booted and spurred from
morning till night.
He received me with some appear
ance of interest, which immediately
stiffened and froze. Beginning to
shake hands wtb me as if he meant
it. be Instantly dropped my hand, as
if It stung him. His nobility was of
that sort which stands in constant
need of repair. Like a weak constitu
lordship could not be said to neglect
It; for he seemed to find his principal
employment in administering contin
uous doses of obseauiousness to bis
own pride. His rank, like the coat
made for some large ancestor, hung
loose upon him; he was trying
to persuade himself that It was an ex
cellent fit, but ever with an unac
knowledged misgiving. This misgiv
ing might have done him good, had he
not met it with renewed efforts at
looking that which bo feared he was
not. Yet this man was capable of the
utmost persistency in carrying out auy
6Cheme he had once devised. Enough
of him for the present; I seldon came
Into contact with him.
I scarcely ever saw Lady Alice, ex
jept at dinner, or by accidental meot
fng in the grounds and passages of
the house; and then she took no notice
of me whatever.
CHAPTER VII.
TnE LIBRARY.
One day, a week after his arrival,
Lord Hilton gave a dinner-party to
some of his neighbors and tenants. I
entered the drawing-room rather late,
and saw that, though there were
many guests, no one was talking to
Lady Alice. She appeared, however,
altogether unconscious of neglect
Presently dinner was announced, and
the company marshaled themselves,
and took their way to the dining
room. Lady Alic« was left unat
tended, the guests taking their cue
from the behavior of their entertain
ers. I ventured to go up to her, and
offer ber my arm. She made me a
haughty bow, and passed on before
me unaccompanied. I could not help
feeling hurt at this, and I think she
saw it; but it made no difference in
her behavior, except that she avoided
everything that might occasion me the
chance of offering my services.
Nor did I get any further with Lady
Hilton. Her manner and smile re
mained precisely the same as on our
first interview. She did not even
show any Interest in the fact that her
daughter, Lady Lucy, had joined her
brothers in the school-room. I had
an uncomfortable feeling that the lat
ter was like her mother, and was not
to be trusted. Self-love is the foulest
of all foul feeders, and will defile that
It may devour. But I must not an
ticipate.
The neglected library was open to
me at all hours, and in it I often took
refuge from the dreariness of un
sympathetic society. I was never ad
mitted within the magic circle of the
family interests and enjoyments. If
there was such a circle, Lady Alice
and I certainly stood outside of it;
but whether even then it had any real
Inside to it, I doubted very much.
Nevertheless, as I have said, our com
mon exclusion had not the effect of
bringing us together as sharers of the
same misfortune. In the library I
found companions more to my need.
But, even\there, they were not easy to
find; for the books were In great con
fusion. I could discover no catalogue,
nor could I hear of the existence of
such a useless luxury. One morning
at breakfast, therefore, I asked Lord
Hilton if I might arrange and cata
logue the books during tny leisure
hours. He replied:
"Do anything yon like with them,
Mr. Campbell, except destroy them."
One day I had sent a servant to ask
Mrs. Wilson to come to me. I had
taken down all the books from a
hitherto undisturbed corner, and had
seated myself on a heap of them, no
doubt a very Impersonation of tho
genius of the place; for while I waited
for the house-keeper, I was consum
ing a morsel of an ancient metrical
romance. After waiting for some
time, I glanced toward the door, for I
had begun to get impatient for the en
trance of my helper. To my surprise,
there stood Lady Alice, hgr eyos gjed
upon me with an expression I could
not comprehend. Iler face instantly
altered to its usual look of indiffer
ence, dashed with the least possible
degree of scorn, as she turned and
walked slowly away. 1 rose involun
tarily. An old cavalry sword, which
I had just taken down from the wall,
and had placed leaning against the
books from which 1 now rose, fell
with a clash to thi> floor. I started;
for it was a sound that always start
led me; and, stooping, lr lifted the
weapon. But what was my surprise
when I raised my head, to see once
more the face of Lady Alice staring
in at the door! yet not the same face,
for it had changed In the moment that
had passed. It was pale with fear
not fright; and her great black eyes
were staring beyond me as if she
saw something through the wall of
the room. Once more her face al
tered to the former scornful indiffer
ence. and she vanished. Keen of
hearing as I was, I had never yet
heard the footsteps of I.ady Alice.
CHAPTER VIII.
THF. SOMNAMBULIST,
One night I was sitting in my room,
devouring an old romance which I
had brought from the library. It was
late. The fire blazed brightly; but the
candles were nearly burned out, and
I grew sleepy over the volume, ro
mance as it was.
Suddenly I found myself on my feet,
listening with an agony of attention.
Whether I had heard anything, I
could not tell; but I felt as if I had.
Yes; I was sure of it. Far away,
somewhere in the labyrinthine pile, I
heard a faint cry. Driven by some
secret impulse, I flew, without a mo
ment's reflection, to the closet door,
lifted the tapestry within, unfastened
the second door, and sfood in the
great waste echoing hall, amid the
touches, light and ghostly, of the cob
webs set afloat in the eddies occas
ioned by my sudden entrance.
A faded moonbeam fell on the floor,
and filled the place with an ancient
dream-light, which wrought strangely
on my brain, and filled It, as if it, too,
were but a deserted, sleepy house,
haunted by old dreams and memories.
Recollecting myselt, I went back for a
light; but the candles were both flick
ering in the sockets, and I was com
pelled to trust to the moon. I ascend
ed the staircase. O'd as it was, not a
board creaked, not a baluster shook;
the whole felt as solid as rock. Find
ing, at length, no more stairs to as-
Dend, I groped my way on; for here
there was no diroct light from tho
moon—only the light of the moonlit
air. I was in some trepidation, I con
fess; for how should I find my way
back? But the worst result likely to
;nsue was, that I should have to spend
the night without knowing whece; for
with the first glimmer of morning. I
should be able to return to my room.
A.t length, after wandering into sev
eral rooms and out again, my hand
fell on a latched door. I opened it,
and entered a long -corridor, with
many windows on one side. Broad
strips of moonlight lay slantingly
across the narrow floor, div.aed by
regular intervals of shade.
I started, and my heart swelled; for
I saw a movement somewhere—l
could not tell where nor of what; I
was only aware of motion. I stood
&\v' nofinsfr. ~ Y gpea acr6sg -me' nfent
to the next shadow, and stood again,
lookhig with fearful fixedness of gaze
toward the far end of the corridor.
Suddenly a white form glimmered and
vanished. I crossed to the next
shadow. Again a glimmer and van
ishing, but nearer. Nerving myself
to the utmost, I ceased the stealthi
ness of my movements, and went for
ward, slowly and steadily. A tall
form, apparently of a woman, dressed
In a long white robe, appeared in one
of the streams of light, threw Its arms
over its head, gave a wild cry—which,
notwithstanding its wildness and
force, had a muffled sound, as if
many folds, either of matter or of
space Intervened—and fell at full
length along the moonlight. Amidst
the 'thrill of agony which snook me at
the cry, I rushed forward, and, kneel
ing beside the prostrate figure, dis
covered that unearthly as was the
scream which had preceded her fall,
it was the Lady Alice. I saw the fact
In a moment; the Lady Alice was a
somnambulist. Startled by the noise
Df my advance, she had awaked; and
the usual terror and fainting had fol
lowed.
She was cold and motionless as
death. What was to be done? If I
called, the probability was that no
one would hear me; or if any one
should hear —but I need not follow the
course of my thought, as I tried in
vain to recover the poor girl. Suffice
It to say, that both for her sake and
my own, I could not face the chances
of being found, in the dead of night,
by common-minded domestics, in such
a situation.
I was kneeling by her side, not
knowing what to do, when a horror,
as from the presence of death sud
denly recognized, fell upon me. I
thought she must be dead. But at
the same moment, I heard, or seemed
to hear (how should I know which?)
the rapid gallop of a horse, and the
clank of a loose shoe.
In an agony of fear, I caught her
up In my arms, and, carrying her on
my arms, as one carries a sleeping
child, hurried back through the cor
ridor. ner hair, which was loose,
trailed on the ground; and as I fled I
trampled on it and stumbled. She
moaned; and that Instant the gallop
ceased. I lifted her up across my
shoulder, and carried her more easily.
How I found my way to the stairs
I cannot tell; I know that I groped
about for some time, like one in a
dream with a ghost in his arms. At
last I reached it, and, descending,
crossed tho hall, and entered my room.
There I placed Lady Alice upon an
old couch, secured the doors, and be
gan to breathe—and think. The first
thing was to get her warm, for she
was as cold as tho dead. I covered
her with my plaid and my dressing
gown, pulled the couch before the
fire, and considered what to do next.
CHAPTER IX.
THE FIKST WAKI.Nt;.
While I hesitated. Nature had her
own way, and, with a deep-drawn
sigh, Lady Alice opened her eyes.
Never shall I forget the look of min
gled bewilderment, alarm, and shame,
wltn which her great eyes met mine.
But, in a moment, this expression
changed to that of anger. Her dark
eyes flashed with light; and a cloud
of roseate wrath grew in her face,
till it glowed with the opaque red of
a camellia. She had almost started
from the couch, when, apparently dis
covering the unauitableness of her
dress, she checked her impetuosity,
and remained leaning on her elbow.
Overcome by her anger, her beauty,
and my own confusion, I knelt before
her, unable to speak, or to withdraw
nty eyes from hers. After a moment's
pause, she began to question me llko
a queen, and I to reply like a tftilprlt.
"How dftl H coTho here?"
"I carried you."
''Where did you liiid me. pray?"
Iler lii> curled with ton tidies the
usual scorn.
"In the old house. in a long corri
dor."
"What right had you to l»e there?"'
"I heard a cry. and could not help
going."
" 'Tis Impossible. I see. Some
wretch told you. and you watched
for me."
"I did not. Lady Alice."
She bnrst into tears, and fell back
on the couch, with her face turned
away. Then, anger reviving, she
went on through her sobs:
"Why did you not leave me where
I fell? You had done enough to hurt
me without bringing me here."
And again she fall a-weeping.
Now I found words.
"Lady Alice," I said, "how could I
leave you lying in the moonlight? Be
fore the sun ros* the terrible moon
nrtglit have distotted your beautlfti
face."
"Be silent, sir. What have you t<
do with my faceT*
"And the wind. Lady Alice, was
blowing through the corridor win
dows, keen and cold as the moon
light. ITow could I leave yotL?"
"You could have called for help."
Forgive me, Lady Alice, if I erred
in thinking you would rather com
mand the silence of a gentleman t<
whom an accident had revealed youi
secret, than be exj-osed to the domes
tics who would have gathered arounc
us."
Again she half raised herself, amL
again her eyes flashed.
"A secret with you, sir?"
"But, besides, Lady Alice," I cried
springing to my fest, in distress at hei
hardness, "I heard the horse with th«
clanking shoe, and in terror, I caughl
you up, and fled with you, almost be
fore I knew what I did. And I beat
It now—hear It now!" I cried, as one«
more the ominous Bound rang through
my brain.
The angry glow faded from her face
and its paleness grew almost ghastlj
with dismay.
"Do you hear it?" she said, throw
ing back her covering, nnd rising
from the couch. "I do not."
She stood listening with distended
eyes, as if they were the gates bj
which such sounda entered.
"I did not hear It," she said again,
after a pause. "It must be gone now." 1
Then, turning to me, she laid hei
hand on my arm, and looked at me
Her black hair, disordered and en
tangled, wandered all over her whitq
dress to her knees. Her face was
paler than ever; and her eyes were sq
wide open that I could see the whit«
all around the large dark iris.
"Did you hear It?" she said. "N'fl
one ever heard it before but me. 1
must forgive you—you could esf nelj
it. I will trust you, too. Take me to
my room."
Without a word of reply, I wrapped
my plaid about her. Then, bethink
ing me of my chamber-candle, I light
ed it, and opening the two doors, led
her out of the room
"How is this?" she asked. "Why d<i
you take me this way? I do not know
the place."
"This is the way I brought you in,
Lady Alice," I answered. "I know no
other way to the_soot where I fonnd
than there—hardly even so far, for 1
groped my way there for the firs)
timo this night or morning—which
ever it may be."
"It is past midnight but not morn
ing yet" she replied. "I always
know. But there must be anothei
way from your room?"
"Yes, of course; but we should have
to pass the housekeeper's door—she is
always late."
"Are we near her room? I should
know my way from there. I fear It
would not aurprise any of the house
hold to see me. They would say—'lt
is only Lady Alice.' Yet I cannot tell
you how I shrink from being seen.
No—l wili try the way you brought
me—if you do not mind going back
with me."
This conversation passed in low tons
and hurried words. It was scarcely
over before we found ourselves at the
foot of the staircase. Lady Alice shiv
ered, and drew the plaid close about
her. We ascended, and soon found
the corridor; but when we got through
it she was rather bewildered. At
length, after looking into several of
the rooms, empty all, except for stray
articles of ancient furniture, she ex
claimed, as she entered one, and, tak
ing the candlo from my hand, held it
above her head:
"Ah, yes! I am right at last This
is the haunted room. I know my way
now."
I caught a darkling glimpse of a
large room, apparently quite fur
nished; but how, except from the gen
eral feeling of antiquity and mastl
ness, I could not tell. Little did I
think then what memories—old now,
like the ghosts that with them haunt
the place—would ere long find their
being and take their abode in that an
cient room, to forsake it never more.
In strange, half-waking moods, I seem
to see the ghosts and the memories
flitting together through the spectral
moonlight and, weaving mystic
dances in and out of the storied win
dows and the tapestried walls.
At the door of this room she said.
"I must leave you here. I will put
down the light a little furtuer on, and
you can come for It I owe you many
thanks. You will not be airaid of be
ing left so near the haunted room?"
I assured her that at present I felt
strong enough to meet all the ghosts
in or out of Hades. Turning, she
smiled a sad, sweet smile, and then
went on a few paces, and disappeared.
Tho light, however, remained; and I
found the candle, with my plaid, de
bited at the foot of a short flight of
steps, at right angles to the passage
she left me in. I made my way back
to my room, threw myself on the
couch 011 which she had so lately laid,
and neither went to bed nor slept that
night. Before the morning, I had
fully entered that phase of Individ
ual development commonly called
love; of which the real nature Is as
great a mystery to me now, as It was
ut any period previous to ita evolu
tion In myself.
[TO BE COS TIN USD.]
Imaginative Luxury.
"Do you mean to say that manager
aas engaged you for next season at
ive hundred dollars a week?" said
sne actor.
"That's what he promises."
"But, my dear fellow, that Is a
Tabulous salary!"
"No, I wouldn't call it fabulous.
But I'm afraid It'll turn out to be
inythlcal."
GueMlnc at It.
"And so Ollie Troudflt Is engaged
o that Miss Newrlch? I thought ho
ised to say he would never marry
iny girl who didn't have a family
ret- to point to."
"Yes, he did say so, but the fact
hat she is a peach may cover the
jronnd, la his estimation." j
No. 44
WHf SHE FALTERED. 1|
V Dltrortrr at th« I,a»t Moment Checked 1
Her R'solte
Beautiful, beyond the fairest tmag«
:nlngs of painter or bard, she stood
:hcrc on the bridge as the bells rang
>ut the midnight But on that fair,
pale face was the imprint of sorrow,
md . suffering and bitter grief, ▲'
*"ild determination and a desperate
"esolve.
| "The time has come "
She turned her glorious face up to
I '.he cold night sky.
I "And now to end it all. I have
sworn to never see the light of an
chor day. Death, I fly to thee,
j Pity me, kind Heaven—and forgive."
i She laid her little hand upon the
.-old railing. Then started back With
i lost cry. •
Ah!—did some Quickening realiza
aon of the awfulness of the step she
was about to take suddenly pierce
ts way to her soul? Did she pause
:o think before it was forever too
ate of what it meant to her soul un
rammoned into the great Beyond?
Did she, in that supreme hour, catch
t glimpse of her happy childhood at
mother's knee?
Nay.
Then what was it that saved this
naddened, wronged, world-weary WO
uan from seeking surcease of sorrow
teneath the chill waters below?
This:
The rail had been freshly painted,
ind she saw she couldn't get orer it
without getting her dress au over
In Battle Bow ■ •
Girl with Can—How's yer mother?
Girl with Baby—Pretty middlln,' least
rays, I hope so. Father was jumpin*
#n her chest as I come out
Fmt'm Logic.
An Irishman walking over a plank
lidewalk in counting some money ac
cidentally dropped a nickel, which
rolled down a crack between two of
:he boards. The Irishman was mud
put out by his loss, trifling though It
ttas, and continued on his way swear
ing audibly.
Early the next day a friend of big,
ttliile walking by the spot, discovered
ihe Irishman in the act of deliberately
Iropping a dollar down the same crack
through which he had lost the nickel,
the friend was, of course, muck aston
ished at what he saw and, desiring to
learn why Pat should deliberately, to
ill appearances, throw away money,
nquired his reasons and was fairly
4.y --- !** —■— * •*
"It was this way," said Pat. "It's
yesterday I was passin' this way when
t lost a nickel down that hole. Now 1
rasoned thot it wasn't worth me wMle
10 pull up thot sidewalk for a nickel,
but last night a scheme struck me and
i am dropping down the dollar to make
it worth me while."
The Modern Father.
"Young man, I suppose, of course,
:hat the large bunch of expensive foses
fou have in your hand there is tot tay
Saughter?"
"Yes —yes, sir—that is—l • "
"And you are going to take her to
the opera this evening—gTand opera at
'hat, where seats costs more than those
In heaven?""
"Yes sir—we "
"And I see a carriage outside! You
aave come for her in a carriage!"
"Why, certainly, I—
"And after the opera there'll be sup
per for two, and suppers do not as a
tule cost anything but money."
"But, sir "
"Ah, my boy! Don't do it any more!
i discourage expansive attentions likfc
:hese you shower on my daughter. It'A
wrong, and besides the girl who won't
:ove you without these costly evidences
Df affection isn't worth loving. And
lay!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Let me have a dollar or so—say
.wenty—until next week, will youT"
_— y
Hart.
"I am afraid," said Senator Sorghum,
'that these Hawaiians don't under
stand our political system as I would
like them to before annexation. Did
/ou say the islands represent great
wealth ?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then I cannot help feeling that I
aave been deliberately ignored. TJwy
aaven't even mentioned their financial
abilities in their efforts to gain my
support."
Still in the Giuae.
One of the boys stood in the front
loor crying.
"What's the matter?" inquired hie
former playmate in the yard. "Won't
rour mother let you play fighting
Spanish any more?"
"No. She says my brother and I
Bust study our lessons."
"Well, that's all right. Yon naada't
jet out of the game oh that account,
i'ou can be a board of strategy."
niTcr»e Type*.
It takes all kinds of men to make
This world spin on its axis;
Some go to fight while some stay home
'And grumble at the taxes.
»T«r S««n There.
She—"And what business are you
in. Air. le Skullion?"
He--"I am a poet"
She—"Oh, how lovely! But I won
der how it happens that I have never
seen any of your poems In print?'
He—"l write only for the maga
zines."
A Doom For Ct.
"This war ought to be a good thing
for Americans."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because there's a probability that
quite a number of us will become fa
miliar with our national anthem."
Not a Plcaaant Subject.
"Why is It that people never talk
about the thermometer except when it
is very cold or very hot?"
"Because they find it possible to
think of other things except at such
times, I guess."
The Flrtl Envelop*.
"The first envelope ever made is in
the possession of the British Mu
seum." If we remember file ac
count of tt la tlxe Bible, It was fash
ioned ot Qg
' r