I unbarred the shuttersâ€"the window looked on the little back-yard I have before described; there was no ledge withoutâ€"nothing but sheer descent. No man getting out of that window would have found any footing till he had fall- en on the stones Lelow. l“â€"--. meanwhile, was vainly at- tempting to Open the door. He now turned round to me, and asked my per- mission to use force. And 1 should here state, in justice to the servant, that. far from evincing any supersa- tious terrors. his nerve, composure, and even gaiety amidst circumstances soex- traordinary, compelled my admiration, and made me congratulate myself on having secured a companion in every way fitted to the occasion. I willingly gate him the permission he required. But though he was a remarkably strong man, his force was as idle as his milder efforts; the door did not even shake to his stoutest kick. Breathless and panting he desisted. I then tried the dear myself. equally in vain. As I ceased from the effort, again that creep of horror came over me; but this time it was more cold and stubborn. I felt as if some strange and ghastly exhala- tion were rising up from the chinks of that rugged floor. and filling the atmosphere with a venomous influence hostile to human life. The door now very slowly and quietly Opened as of its own accord. We precipitated our- selves into the landing-place. We both saw a large pale lightr-as large as the human figure, but shapeless and un- sul stantialâ€"move before us, and ascend the stairs that led from the landing into the attics. I followed the light, and my servant followed me. It enter- ed. to the right of the landing, asmall garret, of which the door stood Open. I entered in the same instant. The light. then collapsed into a small glo- bule, exceedingly brilliant and vivid; rested a moment on a bed in the car- ner. quivered and vanished. We ap- proached the bed and examined it-a half-tester. such as is commonly found in attics devoted to servants. 0n the drawers that stood near it we perceiv- ed an old faded silk leer-chief. with the needle still left in a rent half repaired. The kerchief was covered with dust; [notably it had ‘Jel-onged to the old woman who had last died in that house, and this might have been her sleeping- room. I had sufficient curiosity to 0p- en the drawers; there were a few odds and ends of female dress, and two let- ters tied round with a narrow ribbon of faded yellow. I took the literty to possess myself of the letters. “'e found nothing else in the room worth notic- ingâ€"nor did the light reappear; but we distinctly heard, as we turned to go. a pattering foot-fall on the floor -just before us. We went tlhrough the other attics. in all four, the footfall still preceding us. Nothing to be seen â€"nothing mm the footfall heard. I had the letters in my hand; just as I was descending the Stairs I distinctly felt my wrist seized. and a faint soft effort made to draw the letters from my clasp. I only held them the more tight- ly. and the effort ceased. ed that my dog had not, followed us when we had left, it. He was thrust- ing himself close to the fire, and trem- bling. l was impatient to examine the letters; and while I read them, my ser- vant opened a little box in which he had deposited the weapons I had ord- ered him to bring; took them oust, plac- ed them on a table cloee at imy bed- head and then occupied himself in soothing the dog, who, how ever, seemed to heed him very little. The letters were shortâ€"they were dated; the dates exactly thirty-five years ago. They were evidently from a lover to his mistress. or a huetand to some young wife. Not only the terms of expression hurt a distinct re- terence to a former voyage, indicated “e regained the bedchamber appro- pxjiatgd to my self a-nd I then remark- ot a man imperfectly educated, but still the language itself was forcible. In the expressions of endearment there was a kind of rough wild love; but here 1nd there were dark unintelligible hints at some secret not of loveâ€"some secret that seemed of crime. “We ought to lpve each other," was one of the sentences I remember, “for how ev- the writer to have been 'a Eeafarer. The agelling agd hapdwriting were those ery one else would execrate us if all was known." Again: “Don't let any one be in the same room with you. at nightâ€"you talk in your sleep." And ngein: "What's done can’t be undone; end I tell you there's nothing against us unless the dead could come to life." Here there was underlined in a better put down the letters and began to Inna over their contents. . "Try first, if it will open to your hand," said I, shaking off phe vague apprehension that had seemed me, "while I open the shutters and see What is without." A small, blank, dreary room without furniture-a few empty boxes and ham- Pers in a cornerâ€"a small windowâ€"the shutters closedâ€"not even a. fireplaceâ€" no other door but that by which we had enteredâ€"no carpet on the floor. and the floor seemed very old, uneven, worm-eaten, mended here and there, as was shown by the whiter patches on the wood; has no living being. and no visible place in which a living being could have hidden. As we stood 8821118 round. the door by which we had entered closed as quietly as it had be- fore opened, we were imprisoned. I v'v â€"r-_-__, For the first time I felt a creep of undefinable horror. Not so my serv- ant. "Why, they don't think to trap us, sir; I could break that trumpery door with a kick of my foot." The same thught seized 'bothâ€"some human agency might be detected here. I wished in (mat, my servant folgp‘wed‘. Before he had finished his sentence, the door, which neither of us then was touching. opened quietly of itself. We looked at. can other a single instant. THE HAUNTED HOUSE. , It was but for a moment that I re- :mained undecided whether or not to .follow my servant; pride and curiosity Ealike forbade so dastardly a flight. I :re-entered my room, closing the door safter me, and proceeded cautiously inâ€" *to the interior chamber. I en- i countered nothing to justify my servant's terror. I again carefully ‘ examined the walls to see if there were any concealed door. I could find no trace of oneâ€"not even a seam in the dull- brown paper with which the room was hung. How, then, had the Thing, whatever it was, which had so scared hint, obtained ingress except through ling own chamber? } I returned to my room, shut and lock- ed the door that opened upon the inâ€" terior one, and stood on the hearth, :expectant and prepared. I now per- ..ceived that the dog had slun‘k into an Fangle of the wall, and was pressing éhimself close against it, as if literally striving to force his way into it. I approached the animal and spoke to . it; the poem brwte was evidently beside itself with terror. It showed all its gteeth, the slaver dropping from its jaws. and would certainly have bitten i me if I had touched it. It did not seem , to recognize me. Whoever has seen at the Zoological Gardens a rabbit fascin- jated by a‘serpent, cowering in a cor- had we met in the street, so altered was every lineament. {He passed 'by we quickly, saying in a whiSper that seem- ed scarcely to come from his lips, “Rum â€"rum! it is after me 1" He gained the door to the landing, pulled it open, and rushed forth. I followed him into the landing involuntarily, calling him to stop; but, without heading me, he bounded down the stairs, clinging to the hamsters, and taking several steps at a time. I hear¢ where I stood, the street-door Openâ€"heard it again clap to. I was left alone in the ‘haunted say that 1 had been long sufficiently familiar with all experiments that ap- pertain to the Marvellous. I had wit- nessed many very extraordinary phen- omena in various parts of the worldâ€" phenomena that would be either totally disbelieved if I stated them, or ascribed to supernatural agencies. Now, my theory is that the Supernatural is the Impossible, and that what is called sup- ematuml is only a something in the laws' of nature, of which we have been hitherto ignorant. Therefore, if a ghost rise before me, I have not the right to say, “So. then, the supernatur- al is possible,†but rather, “So, then. the apparition of a ghost is, contrary to received Opinion, Within‘the laws of nature-i. e., not supernatural." ner, may form some idea of the angu- ish which the dog exhibited. Finding all efforts to soothe the animal in vain, and fearing that his bite might be as venomous in that state as in the mad- ness of hydrOphobia, I left him alone, placed my weapons on the table beside the fire. seated myself, and recommenc- ed_my Mneaulay. Perhaps in order not to appear seek- ing credit for a courage, or rather a coolness, which the reader may con- ceive I exaggerate, I may be pardoned if I pause to indulge in one or two egotistical remarks. As I hold presence of mind. or what is called courage, to be precisely pro- portioned to familiarity with the cir- cumstances that led to it, so I should no visible handâ€"it was gone. I Sprang up, seizing the revolver with the one hand. the dagger with the other; 1 was not willing that my weapons should share the fate of the watch. 'l‘hus armed. I looked round the floor â€"no sign of the watch. Three slow. loud, distinct knocks were now heard at the lied-head, my servant called out, “Is that you. sir ?" “No; he on your guard." The dog now roused himself and sat on his haunches. his ears moving quick- ly backwards and forwards. ‘He kept his eyes fixed on me with a look so strange that he concentrated all my attention on himself. Slowly he rose up, all his hair bristling, and stood perfectly rigid. and with the same wild stare. 1 had no time, however, to ex- amine the dog. Presently my servant emerged from his room; and if ever 1 saw horror in the human face, it was then. lshould not have recognized him m fire burned clear; and on the hearth-rug. seemingly asleep, lay the (108- In about twenty minutes I felt an exceedingly cold air pass by my cheek. like a smdden draught. Ifancied the door to my right, communicating With the landing-place, must have got Open; bwt noâ€"it was closed. I then turned my glance to my left, and saw the flame of the candles violently sway- ed as by a wind. At the same mom- ent the watch beside the revolver softâ€" ly slid from thetableâ€"softlynsoftlyâ€" Now, in all that I had hitherto wit- nessed, and indeed in all the wonders which the amateurs of mystery in our age record as facts, a material living agency is always required, On the con- tinent you will find still magicians who assert that they can raise spirits. Assume for the moment that they as- sert truly. still the living material form of the magician is present; and be is the material agency by which, from. some constitutional peculiarit‘ (" ain strange phenomena are rep:z Seated to your natural senses. Fearing, however, that the train of thought into which I fell might un- steady my nerves. I fully determined to keep my mind in a fit state to col)‘5 with whatever of marvellous the ad- vancing night might bring forth. I roused myselfâ€"laid the letters on the talgleâ€"stirred up the fire, which was still bright and cheeringâ€"and opeped my volume of Macaulay. I read quiet- ly enough till about half-past eleven. 1 then threw myself dressed upon the bed. and told my servant he might re- tire to his own room, but must keep himself awake. I bade him leave open the door letweem the two rooms. Thus alone Ikept two candles burning on the table by my bed-head. I placed my watch leside the weapons, and calmly resumed my Macaulay. Opposite to me LL- hght. The dark Thing, whatever it mlght b0 “'33 BQnOâ€"except that I con],1 yet see a dim shadow. which Beemz. the shadow 0(ch shade: against th; apposite mll. d Myeye now xested. on the table .md from under the table (which was with- out cloth or cover-an old 1:13.11an It was a Darkness shaping itself out of the air in very undefined outline. I cannot say it was of a human form. and yet it i‘a'l more resemblance to a human form, or rather shadow, than anything e'se. As it stood, wholly apart and distini-t from the air and light around it, its dimensions seemed gigantic, the summit nearly touching the cei'ing, While I gazed, a feeling of intense cold seized me. An iceberg before me could not more. have chilled me; nor cou‘d the cold of an iceberg lave been more purely physical; I feel (fonvinced that it was not the cold causâ€" ed by fear. As I continued to gaze, I thoughtâ€"tut this I cannot say with precisionâ€" that I distinguiShed tWO eyes looking down on me from the height. One moment I seemed to dis- tinguish them clearly, the next they seemed gone; but still two rays of a pale-blue light frequently shot through the darkness, as from the height on which I ha'f believed, half doubted, that I had encountered the eyes. I strove to speakâ€"my voice utterly failed me;~ I could only think to my- self, “Is this fear? it is not fear!†I strove to riseâ€"in vain: I felt as if weighed down by an irresistible force. Indeed, my impression was that of an immense and overwhelming Power 01>- posed to my volitiong-tltat sense of utter inadequacy to cope with a force beyond men’s, which one may feel physitaily in a storm at sea, in a con- ffagration, or when confronting some terrible wild beast. or rather, per- haps, the shark of the ocean, I felt mor- ally. Opposed to my will was another will, as far superior to its strength as storm, fire and shark are superior in material force to the force of men. And now, as this impression grew on me, now came, at last horrorâ€"horror to a degree that no words can convey. Still I retained pride, if not courage; and in‘ my own mind I said, “This is horror, but it is not fear; unless I fear, I cannot be harmed; my reason rejects this thing; it is an illusionâ€"I do not fear.†With a vioient effort I suc- ceeded at last in stretching out my hand towards the weapon on the table; as I did so. on the arm and shoulder I received a strange shock, and my arm fell to my side powerless. And now, to add. to my horror; the light began s'owly to wane from the candlesâ€"they were not, as it were, extinguished but their flame seemed very gradually Withdrawn; it was the same with the fire-the 7ight was extracted from. the fuel; in a few minutes the room was in utter darkness. The dread that came over me, to be thus ‘in the dark with that dark Thing, whose power was so intensely felt, brought a reaction of nerve. In fact, terror had reached that climax, that either my senses must have deserted me, or I must have burst. through the spell. I did burst through it. I found voice, though the voice was a shriek. I remember that I broke forth with words like theseâ€""I do not fear, my soul does not team" and at the same time I found the strength to rise. Still in that pro- found gloom I rushed to one of the wtndpwsâ€"tore aside the curtainâ€"flung open the shutters; my first thought _-..._ vvâ€"- vuv “UV",ULIUIC yvas also the light, from the gas-lamps 1n the deserted slumberous‘ street. I turned to look back into the room; the moon penetrated its shadow. very pale- l" 4...] -.-..L3-11 I _ , . “d â€" â€"--~ ‘uvubl-IV wasâ€"Light. And when I saw the moon high. clear, and calm, I felt a. joy that almost compensated for the pre- vious terror. There was the moon,there musical or other soundsâ€" wrttmg on Paper. produced by no discernible hand -â€"â€"artieles of furniture moved without allparent luman agencyâ€"or the actual sight anJ touch of hands, to which no bodies seem to belongâ€"still there must be found the medium or living being. With constitutional peculiarities capa- ble of obtaining these signs. In fine, in all such marvels. supposing even that there is no imlosture, there must be a human being like ourselves by whom, or through Whom. the effects presented to human beings are pro- duced. It is so with the now familiar phenomena of mesmerism or electro- bio'ogy; the mind of the person op- erated on is affected through a ma- terial living agent. Nor. supposing it true that a mesmerized patient can re- spond to the will or passes of a mes- merizer a hundred miles distant, is the fe-filonse less occasioned by a material being; it may be through a material f'uul -â€" call it Electric, call it Odic, cal it what you willâ€"which has the 1-0“ er of traversing Space and passing obsta'cles, that the material effect is Communicated from one to the other. Hence all that I had hitherto witness- I now became aware that soul-"thing imterposed between the page and the light-the [age was overshadowed; I looked up; and I saw what I shall find it very difficuEt, perhaps impossible, to describe. old 1113.5035in f hid Seed 351th 25 or so yous. “Men have made fortunes. to be sure, without working. Oil may spout up out of the ground: one owns and cover him with riches. Another man may find iron ore in his land. and so on. But such cases are so few in number that they don’t count, the chances of our getting rich in that way are real- ly not worth considering. If we would be rich. we must work for it. And work early and late; all the time. Plug at it, and keep plugging at it. There is prac- tically no other way. “The man who idles away his time, or fails to make the» best possible use of it. stays poor; the man that worli { for all he knows how and keeps tox- wer at it, is bonnd.to get ahead." “ ‘We have met together. my friends, on a very interesting occasion â€" the christening of this little childâ€"but I see already a look of disappointment on your face. Is it because this infant is so small? We must bear in mind that this globe upon which we live is made up of email things. infinitesimal objects we might say. Little drops of Water make the mighty ocean; the mountains which rear their hoary heads toward heaven and are often lost in the clones are made up of little grains of sand. Besides, my friends,- we must take into consideration the possibilities in life of this little speck of humanity. He may become a great preacher, multitudes may be swayed by his eloquence and brought to 80.8 and believe in the truths of the Gospel. He may become a distinguished physician and his fame as a healer of men may reach the uttermost. parts of the earth, and his name go‘ down to posterity as one of the great benefactors of hu- manity. He may become a great as- tronomer and read the heavens as an open book. He may discover new stars which may be cowpled with that of Newton and other great discoverers. He may become a distinguished states- man and orator. and by the strength of his intellect and eloquence he may control the destinies of nations and his name be engraved upon monuments er- ected to perpetuate his memory by his admiring and grateful countrymen. He may become an author. and a poet and his name may yet appear among those now entombed at Westminster. He may become a great warrior, and lead armies to battle and victory: his prow- ess and valor may change the map of EurOpe. Methinks I hear the plaudits of the people at the mention of his deeds and name. He may become â€"’er ’erâ€"he mightâ€"’erâ€"’ “Turning to the mother: “ ‘What is his name 2’ “The motherâ€"‘What is the baby’s name 2’ ‘ “‘Yes, what is his name !’ “The motherâ€"“It’s name is Mary Ann) ’I . round table)there rose a hand. visible as far as the wrist. It was a hand. seemingly. as mush of flesh and blood as my own, but the hand of an aged personâ€"lean, wrinkled“, small too- a woman’s band. That hand very softly ciosed on the two lettgrs that lay on ‘l'hc Scotchvlrlsl Ill-Ista- and the mm “all". The following anecdote. related by Mark Twain, has never appeared in print. At an entertainment given for the benefit of the seamen on board the steamer Kaiser Wilhelm II. on her voyage from New York to Genoa, Mr. Clemens was posted for an address. On being introduced he rose. and in his pe- cuTiar tone of voice and manner said: “My friends, I see that my name is on the programme for an address. As this was done without consulting me, I shall give you an anecdote in its place. Now, you know, there are anecdotes, and anecdotes, short meter and long meter. I shall give you a long meter. one with a snapper at the end. It is about a Scotch-Irish minister who thought he was called to preach the Gospel, while he knew that he had the gift of oratory, and he never missed an Opportunity to disp'ay it. An oppor- tunity was afforded on the occasion of a christening. There was a consider- able audience, made up of the relatives, friends and neighbors of the parents. The preacher began by saying: Sure to be l-‘ouml. Says Mr. «uulelou. If 0|“- Tnkes the light Baum -Ihe Maul. “The longer I live the more firmly I am convinced.†said Mr. Gozzleton, “that a man who wants a fortune has got to do something besides wish for it. Fortunes, large and small, are shy, very shy. In one form and another they are‘passing by all the time, but. they won't stop for the mere asking. however po'ite and graceful and ear- nest the in 1tat1on may be. We might sit out on the verandah’ from now ti l doomsday and rise And bow and scrape at every one of ’em that came along and ask ’em all in. but never one of ’em would stap. They might want to come in. but nothing short of actual collating would bring ’em in. The (act is that if we want a fortune we’ve got to work for it. ‘1 -VW“ '- the table: hand and letters both van- ished. There then came the same three loud measured knocks I had heard at the ted-head before this extraordin- ary drama had commenced. A STORY BY MARK TWAIN. THE QUEST OF FORTUNE. M‘CTERIA IN \VINE. To be Continued. and that was the end 0i i‘ Th3 Home of Lords “8-5 appeal" but there was no law legiSI'f‘Qon‘ “11y. therefore at this had. thuband can secur tom 1h]. wife to live ‘ w W bar will but be M†tEe decree. “7th a bowl of indignwl 1th? Court of Appea‘s rm" 00!) since, by the Iaw . courts whiie retaining the Cree the restitution of cm were deprived of the [Km tha restitution. The TM.“ and tint was the end of i kawn had not nm'e-Str "1y “1y. testimony s? that he had ruder tukvn net Mid thrown it inm ‘: court refused to grant 1'34 beu corpus. hoiding the « ifllegtl. command Milbum's Heart and NONE to myono Inflering from nervousneal hurt troublo. TLc-y are 5 5pm medioino for such oor‘rplainu Fania timo I was tï¬icted wzth nervomnaiil ptin in my heart. which was “pack never. at night, often destroying mu Thu- pilll cured me and invzgomed' nervous I stem which is now strong! balmy. he restorudreptfrzlsletpbeg romavmgtho 'Ittessirg heart pains VD formerly can mo so much annetyl trouble." Uilburn’l Hurt and New. Pins 50! u 1:019 for .135, sold by druggms or! by mil. T. Milburn A L. .. T010110 01 Jaqkson had a numb-I “Principled retain: r~ I * ‘ I“! in his SthDglmM. an 1 U of the luv hesitatm} (u in. xu Englishman; huu“ 1“ hh‘ Still. it “as felt in M in wir‘ ‘ Frown woman (nu u‘ iw it even by her huslwan! uni 1 hotrd a, habeas oonus UN’ "9 M‘Ih Of â€'15. Jalc'kuou. "col â€NM Ieralh a human (aw. \Vho was that 1.13:, Ju-ksuz C.1t.heroe,†“hey: â€my“. .;;;rre Eng'and the other via): One day in 18: 4 Inc the church “.5. .13 ed by her husband l 2H" house at B'ackburn. v.11 ed Practically as :1 pm.» “I3 described at U.» X1} der‘ 51°39." an! su ; 1 ed by “B guru-son l 5 1015 down from an u; w It is probable £17.11 :2,» utterly forgotten Iwz‘, .4 u a hazy recoLlectiuu m" 1;.“ . Yet the vase in “L; '11 >1.“ crown of martynimn “in 1 most ceiebrated of {m wum experience was instz‘utuvma ing “Wider measurr of W 9‘1 86! h‘lf the world ux‘er. Briefly, Mrs. Ju-‘rswh :x» indewndent \wa't}; xx.» 1887 one B. H. Jaskm'D I: away match, and Jackx .u m been an adventurvr {Hr \\ 1! 1'6de no Easting ro-g'ml .Mr. Jackson left. 17(- tlme his wife refusing : mifany him. On Ms 1 Wild Jackson gm :1 xv: restitution of his a" nju- Mrs. Jackson refusal It has been said. ti»! Weaithy, The â€Irish vf.‘ 1‘06} was in her patruu. Entrly attended its .N‘ Mr. Wm. Dyson, 1?»; and harness maker of (, tho followmg BEEWIL'EXd Too serious a condition neglect. A Guelph harness make“ how he was cured. Ltu-Livor P1115 cure Consrip: PAIN IN THE HEAR}. A MODERN MARTYR St’ I t 1h owe 33.115 v; in 1M! we re 1e w I‘D 1m P re IT. an: .ntf)‘ ad 811‘ “I W \\ W We am A Q .v. 11"- ‘l Selling: at T0 ELEM! 813T §IILL LEP'I FRESH IMPLEMEH war TOOLS is X rSnc A Suits. extra ( Large Qu TWEEDS. PRINTS CO '1‘ '1‘: )1 COTT NAME! ust ( INN )A\ FOE-T. Alwave PLAN n sm 1021!“ the H it m l ) H U