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IK Dll UIERII Kill.
CROSSING THE RIVER STYX.
0
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Charon and His Ferry-Boat.
Startling Disclosures in the Infer
nal Regions.
CHAPTER IIL
THE COUET OF THE SLEEPERS.
The physician was cot a little discomposed
by the incident which I have recorded in the
bst chapter, and was at first inclined to dispute
Minos’s judgement on the mental state of these
prisoners, or at any rate, of him whom he, as a
physician, had professionally examined. He
began to lay before ns the scientific reasons up
on which he had founded his belief in the man’s
insanity, bnt to no purpose. Now that we had
passed through the Hall of Justice and had seen
each other standing in that mysterious light of
the other world, we were no longer to be deceiv
ed. We could read each other’s inmost thoughts;
and though we were unskilled in the scientific
terms which he employed, we all knew that the
arguments which the physician was so elabo
rately marshalling had never even convinced
himself. No one, however, made any answer
to his attempted defence, and an awkward pause
ensued.
‘Well, gentlemen,’ said Minos,at last breaking
the silence, ‘what are your plans ?’
We looked at each other in some surprise, for
we had hardly anticipated so much latitude of
choice as the question seemed to imply.
‘What are your plans?’ repeated he. ‘How
do you purpose passing your time in Hades?’
Nobody answered for some time, till at length
the barrister ventured a reque st that Minos him
self would suggest something.
‘Impossible, gentlemen,’ he replied,laughing,
‘I cannot suggest anything without being ac
quainted with ycur respective tastes. It is for
each of you to say what is his ideal of a future
state.’
I think, nay I feel sure,that we all knew what
we onght to reply. It would indeed have been
unpardonable in any educated nineteenth cen
tury spirit to be unprepared with a correct an
swer to such a question as this. Still, from
some cause or other—diffidence probably—we
remained silent.
Just at this moment the door opened and one
of the cfficers of the court—an apparitor—enter
ed the room.
‘There are several spirits outside, my Lord,’
he said, addressing Minos, ‘who are becoming
impatient for their discharge, if your lordship
could make it convenient to sign their papers
at once.’
‘Well, they cannot leave yet,’ replied Minos.
'But never mind; admit them, apparitor;’ and
thereupon the philosopher entered the room fol
lowed by the artist, the poet and the widow.
The first named was in a high state of excite
ment.
‘My lords,’ he exolaimed with an eagerness
almost painful to witness, ‘I beg you will allow
me to depart at once.’
‘At once?’ said Minos. ‘Fray, may I ask the
cause of your extreme impatience ?’
‘Impatience?’ oried the philosopher, his eyes
burning with the fever of his great hope. ‘Oh,
my Lord, would you chide the impatience of a
thirsty wayfarer, whose knees are on the brink
of the desert well? Havel thus far toiled and
endured in silence, wrestling in the dull agony
of doubt, and faoing the stony brow of mystt-
*,r. - .Vu .£, • r.Dfhofltu Itailf, iLttfc X oUlTUlCT UOi
now be eager to close my sufferings ai last? My
Lords, you know not the joy with which I arose
to follow your meesepger but a few hours back,
when he touohed me on the shoulder as my
lamp was waning before the dawn. Full of a
calm hope I followed him hither,and what have
I yet found? Phenomena! Phenomena! Phe
nomena! I see with an etherialized sight, and 1
hear with a purged ear, and the gro s burden
of mv body harasses and distracts my thought
no lo’nger: but all is subjective still.’ (At the
word ‘subjective’ the country gentleman was
observed to prick up his ears.) ‘The same old
question recurs: Who is this ‘I’ that see, what
this world that is seen ? The problem of con
sciousness, the enigma of existence, is still un-
solved. Your people below have told me that
the answer lies beyond. Give me then, my pa
pers my Lord, and let me go!’ And the phi
losopher stretched out a feverish hand towards
thCyjudges . ufe(j{ed with his enthusiasm. It
awoke us to a sense of our duty to the nine-
teenth century. We recollected that we owed
it to our era, to be above all things anxious to
discover the enigma of existence, and that our
ideal of a future state tunless we were prepared
to accept a grossly unfashionable one) should
be ‘that in which all the problems of this pres
ent life should be solved.’ In fact we recalled,
and only just in time, that theory of life and
death which has found chief favor with our
epoch, viz., that the former should be spent in
a continual and conscientious endeavor to work
out an impossible sum, in order that on the oc
currence of the latter, the shoolmaster may, in
coi sideration of our industry, permit as to look
at the answer at the end of the book. With the
exception of the widow, we all hastened to as
sure Minos of our determination to follow the
philosopher and seek the solution of the enig
ma of! tx'ster ce. Minos smiled—slightly iron
ically, as I thought—at the suddenness and una
nimity of our resolve, and conferred with his
brother judges for a few moments in a low voice,
at intervals eyeing each of us in turn. He then
proceeded to fill up our papers of discharge,but
before attaching his signature to each, he en
quired formally and severally of each of us
whether it was our deliberate determination to
adopt the same course of the philosopher. ‘Not,’
be added, ‘that your present decision is in any
way final. You will have an opportunity of
subsequently reconsidering it, and if you think
fit, of returning here to signify your adoption
of some other plan of life. I merely wish to
save myself, whenever possible, the labor ot
filling up a second set of paperB.’
We all, however, remained firm. The conn-
try gentleman in particular was almost indig
nant with Mines for appearing to question the
sincerity of his desire to solve the problem of
‘I at sure you, my Lord,’ he said, ‘though you
mightn’t think it, I take considerable interest
in these questions. I used to read a great deal
about them in some fellow’s books—I forget bis
name—during the summer months,and, indeed,
sometimes even in the hunting season. It s a
verv curious thing about consciousness and
all that. And there’s free will and necessity too
—it’s all very puzzling. At all events it quite
beats me, I know ; and I assure you there is no
gentleman here more anxious to have the wnole
business cleared up than lam. I in all for sol
ving the charade or enigma or whatever you
C& The widow, who had all this time sat apart,
and whose voice had not joined in the eager
chorus which had proclaimed our adhesion to
the plan of the philosopher, was at last called-
upon to signify her intentions.
‘Are you too, madf m,’ asked Minos courteous
ly, ‘desirous of solving the problem of exist-
eD q my Lord ?’ she replied hurriedly, starting
from her reverie. ‘Oh no. I want to find poor,
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dear George.’
Minos smiled half sadly, half amused.
‘Well, madam,’ he continued, ‘you had then
perhaps better join tLis party. Your husband
may possibly have gone forward in the direction
which they will take. You have, I suppose, no
absolute objection to solving the problem of ex
istence, if it will enable you to find your hus
band ?’
‘Oh dear no,^replied the widow innocently,
‘none in the least.’
Minos filled up her papers and then turning
towards us;
•Your papers, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘are now
ready, but I regret to inform you’ (and here he
cast a glance of compassion at the philosopher)
‘that you will not be able to start on your jour
ney till evening. The rules on this point are
very strict, and they provide that no passports
shall on any account be issued until the oourt
has risen for the day, I am not permitted to tell
you the reason of the rule, but only to inform
you that it is peremptory.’
The philosopher heaved a deep sigh and set
tled himself to endure the protraction for a few
more hours of the suspense of seventy years.
‘My learned brothers and myself,’ continued
Minos, ‘must now return to the court to hold
our afternoon sitting, bat the apparitor is per
mitted to con d act you to any part of Hades,
save that whioh you are yourselves destined to
occupy, and to show you whatever is to be seen.’
The barrister requested permission to be al
lowed to return to court and witness the hear
ing of the other cases on the list. His request
was at once acceded to, Minos promising to ac
commodate him with a seat on the bench. The
philosopher elected to remain alone in his sus
pense in one of tho ante-rooms adjoining the
court, and the widow retired to another. The
rest of us gratefully accepted Minos’ kind offer
of the guidance of the apparitor, and, after cor
dially thanking their lordships for the kindness
we had received from them, we prepared to fol
low onr cicerone.
We were led out through the judges’ private
entrance and found ourselves at the back ofjthe
building in a vast coart-yard, of whose dimen
sions I am not permitted to give even an aprox-
imate estimate. The atmosphere was warm,
languid and oppressive—so oppressive indeed
that weshonld have hastened to leave it, had we
not been arrested by the singular spectacle which
presented itself. The whole of the vast area of
the court was crowded with couches, a few of
which wore vacant, but the large majority were
occupied by recumbent figures.
•This,’ said she apparitor, answering our in
quiring glances, ‘is called the Court of the Sleep
ers. It is tenanted by those spirits whose ideal
of a future world is a state of complete pasivity
and repose. Its occupants are ohiefiy orientals
and southern Europeans. There are a few spir
its from northern and western Europe who
have been, in their life time wealthy men of a
weak and languid physique and who have lived
long enough to acquire an incurable love for in
ertia; but of English or indeed of Teutonic spir
its generally, very few make this their perma
nent abode.’
We were now in the midst of the Court, and
we halted to gtze upon the scene. It was mar
vellous indeed. Innumerable figures lay around
us in every attitude of deep lethargic slumber.
No stirring limb, or changing posture broke the
dead stillness or marred the immovable repose
of that vast assembly. The mighty whisper of
their deep breathings seemed itBelfa deeper si
lence and the ri e and fall of their countless
breasts was rather felt than seen, as one is con
scious of the soft motion of a reposing sea.
Sleep seemed not so mnch an internet condition
of the prostrate figareB as a huge external pall,
enwraping them in its folds and awaiting the
hi Dd M?- f 5SK!!?S&&
Armed with the uewfonnd faculties which en
abled us to read in the face of spirits the histo
ries of their mortal lives, we gazed with interest
on the sleepers who lay nearest to ns. Here lay
the spirit of the bed-ridden oripple whom the
gentle messenger of the Shades bad one night
lilted lovingly from his lifelong conch of pam
and carried thither, to find a good night’s rest
at last. Calm and motionless he lies wrapped
in slumbers which no earthly opiates oonld give
dreading no longer the midnight wakings in
dull pain, nor the feverish thirsts, nor the rest
less tossings of the sick. Next to him lay the
spirit of an old hedger, bnried in a sleep un
haunted by visions of the next day’s toil. Poor
slave of the globe, bent and broken, he has got
his manumission at last. As he sleeps he ^nows
that his old woman will not wake him in the
darkness of the winter morning with ‘John, it
be foive o’clock.’ He knows that he will not
have to orawl out and hnddle on his clothes by
the dim light, aud hear the rain beating against
the lattice, as he ties his dinner in bis handker-
cnitf. He knews that he will not have to do
this the next day, nor the day after, nor the day
after that, nor any more forever. The repose of
his future shows itself in the expression of his
pleasant sleep. He is dreaming that it is a per
petual Sadurday night, and that the squire has
sent to Eny that he doesn’t expect to go to Sun
day morning’s service.
The apparitor noticed the interest with which
we regarded this sleeper.
‘Ah ! he remarked, ‘agricultural laborers who
die in what one would call in other classes the
prime of life—that is before they are quite bro
ken down by incessant aud exhausting toil—are
to be found here at times in oonsideral numbers.
DviDg in middle age, and not having therefore
eDjoyed like their elder brethren the ratifying
reuose of the workhouse, they come here at first
with great delight and declare their intention
never to stir from their couches; bnt after a
short time they begin to get restless and uneasy
and in the end they generally return to the
judge, and ask to be transferred to some spot
where they oan have plowing and ditching in
moderation.’ .
As he spoke, an offioial hearing a wand and a
scroll was threading his way towards us amongst
the couches of the sleepers. From time to time
he would refer to the scroll and compare its con
tents with an inscription on the head of a par
ticular oouoh. This done, he would touch the
sleeper with his wand and wake him. Some
question and answer would then pass between
them, after which the sleeper addressed would
sometimes rise and follow the offioial. In many
oases, however, the spirit would reply to the
question put to him by an abrupt, sometimes
even an impatient and angry shake of the head,
aud immediately resume his slumbers.
•What is the meaning ot this ?’ asked M. C.
•Every sleeper,’ said the apparitor, ‘isawaken
ed at the conclusion of each year of his slumber
and the question is formerly pnt to him wheth-
he desires to arise and engage in some form of
active life. There are but few who do not in
three or four years at least return an answer in
the affirmative. Those whose mortal lives have
been the most full of toil soon weary of contia-
ual rest; and as for those whose lives have been
made miserable by pain and sickness, when they
have slept off the reoollection of their sufferings
they are the most anxious of all to enter oo a
life of activity, from having spent their earthly
days in enforced inaction. At the close of every
year this question is repeated, until the com
pletion of the tenth year of the sleeper’s slum
bers.
‘And then ?’ we asked eagerly.
■Do not ask me,’ said the apparitor, in a troub
led voice, aud shuddering as a spirit shudders.
We gazed at him in astonishment, and repeat
ed our question.
At this moment the official stopped at a eouch
near to where we were standing, tenanted by a
spirit of an Oriental race. He touched the sleep
er with the wand aod awoke him. The ques
tion was put, and the awakened sleeper shook
his head, not impatiently bnt gravely and firm
ly, and with a certain diguity whioh we were
coDstrained|to admire. The officer with the
wand aud scroll seemed, I thought, to delay a
little longer than usual after the reply was given
in the apparent hope of its being retracted; but
the spirit without looking again at its question
er, stretched himself on the couch with the same
grave dignity, aud folded his arms upon his
breast The other then waved the wand thrioe
over the couch and it broke iu two.
A low cry burst from the apparitor.
‘Look !’ he said iu a breathless whisper, 'the
wand is broken. The tenth year is completed.
His hour is come.’
At this moment a deep sound, like a passing
bell, smote upon cur ears, and the apparitor
with a shudder, turned away his head. The
movement diverted our gaze for a moment from
the recumbent spirit, and when our eyes re
turned thither, an exclamation of terror burst
from our lips.
The couch was empty.
‘Let us go,’ said the apparitor hurriedly.
What does it mean ?’ we asked iu amaze
ment.
‘It means,’ said our guide solemnly, ‘that a
spirit has ceased to be. He is annihilated.
Those spirits who, after ten years of slumber,
still prefer the unconscious to the conscious life
cease by the eternal laws.-if.liases, to exist.’
AVe walked by his side,'shudderingand in si
lence. Onr emotion may seem strange to mor
tal men, clothed as they know themselves to be,
witu a perishable body, whose frail vitality a
thousand trivial causes may iu a moment extin
guish. Those only who have put off the fleshy
elements of their being, and ft It the intense self-
sufficing life of the disembodied spirit, can es
timate onr feelings at'that moment; only those
who have exchanged the flickering uncertain
frame of bodily txistence for the undimmed,
unwavering light of spirit-life can understand
our horror at seeing it quenohed forever.
‘Do many perish thus ?’ we asked, after a time.
‘Few indeed,’ replied the apparitor. ‘Many
and many a spirit who has slept doggedly
through bis ten years of grace, has sprang up
at his last warning, trembling with an unspeak
able terror, when he at last found himself face
to face with the awful nothing. I have known
but one spirit who dared to face it. He whom
yon saw perish was a Buddhist by oreed. Anni
hilation is the end and otject of his religion.
But no more of this; let us leave this dreadful
place.
(To be continued.)
Sundown.
BT SHALER G. HILLYER, Jb.
Author of the Prize Story, "Marable Family,” in
the Savannah Xeu:s.
[C OPTiiiGHi Reserved. ]
CHAHTER XIII.
THE OWL'S NEST.
The next hour passes slowly. The doctor,
worn out by the night’s vigils, lies down on the
eouch on the other side of the room, and goes to
sleep, Kate keeps away; if she wonld come in
and talk to me theiininntes wonld go last enongh.
A little after five, Mrs. Go.die comes in. She
sits down by my bed; while listening to her
talk, thirtv .<i/ v>-\
alone. L'close' my eyes u aii^ 2§Wp them closed,
hoping to obtain forgetfhlnesB in sleep. At
length, after a protracted effort in this direction,
I was about to attain success when I was aroused
by the clatter of horses approaching the house
at a rapid pace. Looking towards the window I
know, from the few rajs finding their way
through the blinds, that the sun has jnst risen.
Two minutes later there was a gentle rap on
my door which awoke the doctor. On his op
ening it, Mr. Alonzo Harper entered followed
by Kate and her mother. The young man bore,
one in each hand, two leathern wallets which
he placed upon the small table near my bed.
‘We found our man, Mr. Lockwood, and with
him half of your money and your two watches,’
he said exaltingiy, as he took from one of the
bags both money and watchts, and placed them
upon the table.
I was rejoiced to again behold my mother’s
watch, that heirloom whioh I had always ptiz?d
far above its intrinsic value, and whose loss I
had mourned through two years. How it and
the money were recovered I will narrate in Har
per's own words:
‘AVe went on very quietly till we ciossed the
bridge. Just beyond it onr party divided, four
of us keeping the straight road to the store while
the ethers, likewise four in nnmber, turned off
into an obscure road which leads by a near route
to Stephen Swetwell’s. My party consisted of
young Yocum, Mr. Strong, the sheriffs brother,
myself and Jerry. We walked our horses till
within three hundred yards of the store, when
we dismounted and fastened them near the
road-side. Just as we had done this, we were
somewhat startled by the report of a pistol which
seemed to come from beyond the store—from
the neighborhood of the old mill. We then ad
vanced rapidly on foot, keeping as much within
the shadow of the trees as possible.
‘As I expected, old Levi’s dog gave notice of
our approach. He was always barking, or try
ing to bark, as yon know, bnt now he succeeded
in giving out a succession of quick yelps as we
neared the house, which I knew must awaken
his master if he were within it. AVe therefore
ran rapidly up, one to each of the two doors and
two windows. I was at the back door and rap
ped loudly upon it. I tried the bolt and was
surprised to find the door unlocked. On enter
ing the room and striking a light we found the
bird had flown. Both rooms were quickly
searotel, for there was nothing in either of
them which could hide a man, There was in
the back room near the fireplace a small table,
close to which were the only two chairs in the
hous9, and on which stood a black bottle and
two glasses. , . . , x
We went out of the house to look about us,
and to consult. AVe decided to go at once to
the mill—for we had been made acquainted
with what Mr. Lockwood had seen there, but
stopped a moment to arrange onr plan of ap
proaching it. While thus engaged, I could not
but observe the actions of the dog. It went
howling and yelping around us and among the
trees as though it were mad. I notioed, too,
that it limped badly, yet strange as it seemed,
it moved very swiftly in ““I ou ^ among the
shadows of the trees, now approaching ns, now
dartiBg away and all the time sending forth a
sharp yelp, something between a bark and a
cough. The wound which made him limp was
caused, I now believe, by the pistol shot we had
heard as we dismounted, and which must have
been fired by his master with the intention, no
doubt, of putting au end to him, thinking he
might hinder bis flight.
Oar short consultation ended, we started, go
ing at a rapid pace, yet stealthily, towards the
mill. The dog darted by in front of us and
went off yelping in another direction. He
presently came limping back with his strange
limp, and s,ranger cry, and led off still another
direction, but never towards the mill. Was he,
like a mother bird flying before its enemies with
trailing wing, trying to mislead us? It seemed
so; prompted by a strange instinot, and a stran
ger affection, he was trying, so it seemed, to
save the master who had just attempted to kill
him.
“While looking toward the mill-house, while
yet some distance from it, I thought I saw the
glimmer of a light within it. We hurry on; we
now stand within the shadow of the ruin. Push
log the crazy door baok, two of us enter, while
two remain without. A third enters like a flit
ting spectre, it is the dog. AVe strike a light
and survey the room; it is empty, I see the lit
tle apartment to the right, which Mr. Lockwood
noticed, aud approach it The dog is there be
fore me. When I reach the entrance, I can see
in the farther wall an opening, too small to ad
mit enough of oar light to illuminate it, yet
sufficiently large to admit the body of a man.
Looking >nto this hole, I thought I saw the
glimmer of a spark of fire. I could not then ac
count for it, but know now that it was the burn
iug wick of old Levi’s lamp. He had just ex
tinguished it, as he thought, but the well-charred
wick continued to burn without giving forth
light.
“The dog sat by the aperture, growling and
showing his teeth, Satisfied that the dwarf was
ooncealed in the dark hole before me, I ad
vanced towards it with a quick step, but the dog
attacked me so furiously, I was forced to give
hack aud to use my pistol. This I did with ot
feet, for the dog, the next instant, leaped growl
ing into the opening. I heard a crash as he
sprang into t.h-e dark place, whioh was followed
the next second, by a startling, blinding light.
I looked to see Levi dart from his hiding-place,
but be came not; there was the dog, the flames
running over him, not barking now and lying
very still.
“It was useless to try to extinguish the fire;
indeed, we had no desire to do so, had it been
possible. So we looked on, quite crest-fallen
at the escape of our man, and considering, in a
a oonfused sort of way, what to do next.
“The flames must Lave reached some com
bustible material, for , in a very few minntes
from the time the lamp was overturned, they
burst throngli the thin, dry petition walls which
first confined them, and sent a sadden flood of
light through every part of the ruins. Just
then, looking aloft, I descried the ugly figure of
the humpback, With a leathern bag iu each hand
standing on a single plank tint lay across the
girders, some twenty feet above the ground.
He bad, evidently, been making his way to a
small opening in the roof, through whioh he
could pass to the roof of a shed below, from
which, by leaping to the ground, he hoped to
make his escape. But the sadden flash of light
surprised him; he had jnst turned round when
we discovered him, and was looking at the fire
with a startled air. Then turning his eyes upon
us, and seeing that he was discovered, he faced
about, and made for the hole iu the roof as fast
as he could.
“He had advanced only a few stops, however,
when he stopped; drew both hands, still hold
ing the leathern bags, in front of and close
against his stomach, and began to bend double
until his body writhing all the time as if in
great pain, he settled down upon the plank,
with his feet dangling below it. AVhile the par
oxysm lasted, the contortions of his face were
frightful, as were the alternate groans and
hoots which seemed to be forced from him.
These sounds, after a little, when the agony
grew less acute, became articulate aud intelli
gible.
“ ‘Oh, that whiskey!’ he groaned, through
lips covered with white froth. ‘To be caught,
like a fool at my own game, Another swallow,
and I'd ha’ been done for. Oh, that devil! oh,
that Swetwell!—He waiated my money, oh hoo!
- 'jie oouOubU Vo u&verlUBV&ignt oi nis situation
and our presence while uttering these disjoint
ed sentences. Presently, turning his eyes be
low and again seeing ns, he started, and shout
ed oat,—
■ ‘AVhat are you doing hert? what do you
want with Levi Flapp? If you want money, go
to Swetwell; he’s got it—I have none, not a pen
ny. Oh, I’ll swear it—not a penny.’
‘AVhile speaking, he changed Lis position so
as to again stand npon the plank, and did it so
qnickly and with ease that he must have been
entirely free of the pain which had forced him
to sit down. Having regained his feet, instead
of continuing toward the hole in the roof, as
we expected him to do, he ran back and forth
along the high and narrow plank, scowling upon
us with his evil eyes, and cursing and hootiDg
as he went. Still grasping one in each hand,
the leathern bags, and alternately raising and
lowering his long arms, he looked like a great
owl attempting to frighten an enemy from its
nest.
As he thus ran back and forth along his dizzy
path I heard him curse his dog for betiaying
him and eurse Swetwell for drugging his whis
key aud curse himself—as I understood him—
for failing to drug Swetwells’s.
The fire, all the while rapidly advancing, has
now caught the roof. A gust of flame suddenly
darts down upon the maD, warning him with
its hot breath of his danger. He faoes about,
and is hurrving once more towards the opening
in the roof. He forgets now to curse, intent
only upon escaping the pursuing flames. No,
he has one other passion—to save his money
bags. He reaches the aperture but it is too
small to permit his egress through it. He com
menced to beat off the half-deoayed shingles,
using the money-bags as battering rams. As
soon as he had widened the aperture sufficiently
to admit his body through it, he crawls out on
the roof. At the same time I saw my compan
ion leave the interior of the house and pass to
that sid9 of it on which Flapp is endeavoring to
escape. AVe see him step out upon the roof aud
with the agility of a cat run along the treacher
ous slope towards the shed already mentioned.
The rotten shingles crack beneath his tread,
threatening at every step to give way and pre
cipitate him to the ground below- But he is too
late, the fire has reached the shed before him;
he oan only attain the roof by leaping through a
sea of flame. He stops a mement as if consider
ing its feasibility, then tarns and rapidly re
trace his steps. He is ccmpe ’ed to keep dan
gerously near the eaves of the roof, for the
fierce flames had possession of the ridge. There
is a tall dead oak which stands neai the corner
of the building, raising its long arms above the
roof. Towards this tree the man is evidently
making his way. If he can gain its branches
he will not only escape the fire, but there is a
chance that he may elnde onr clutches, for its
long limbs on the side opposite the mill extend
far over the waters of the creek that sweep
aronnd its base. And now he reaches the spot
where the tree overhangs the roof; he seizes the
nearest branch, which, brittle with decay, snaps
in his grasp, nearly preoipitatiDg him to the
ground. There is only one other large enough
to sustain his weight in reach, and it may be
reached only by a perilons leap. He panses for
a second to snmmon all his strength, cronohes
slightly and then makes the daring spring.
He gains the limb, still carrying, one in each
hand, the leathern bags. Ha utters a shout of
triumph now, whioh rises above the roar of the
flames aud then proceeds, by leaping from limb
to limb with the agility of a squirrel to the other
side of the tree. By the lurid gleam of the
flames we see him making his way swiftly and
surely among the dead branches of the oak and
at a fearful distance above the ground. But now
he suddenly stops and convulsively grasps the
nearest limb with his arms. A sharp cry of
pain esoapes him, while his body begins to
writhe and to twist itself until it winds itself
into a shapeless knot about the limb. Just then
a great mass ot flame, driven by a sharp gust of
wind, suddenly turned downward towards the
dead tree. For several seconds I saw the body-
of Levi Flapp completely enveloped by the far
reaching, eager flames. AVhen these withdraw
I Dotice that the clothing of the miserable man
is aflame, and then, still watching him, I see
his body begin slowly to unwind from about the
limb, the leathern bags drop from his relaxing
bands and fall to the ground with a dull clink,
and now he hangs by only one hand—as ghastly
a spectacle as the glare of a burning building
ever revealed -«nd then crashing through the
dead boughs, he tails to the earth with a dull
thud.
We list no time in extinguishing his burning
clothing, and then removing him and the two
leathern wallets beyond the heat of the flames,
On examination we found that old Levi was
dead. Whether he was killed by the flames or
by the poison which it seems he had unwitting
ly taken, or by both, we will hardly know.
We then took the liberty of examining the con
tents of the two bags. In one we found Mr.
Lockwood’s two watches, together with a few
one and two dollar bills, some fractional cur
rency and a quantity of silver and copper coins.
The other bag contained only coins, both si.ver
and gold. Disappointed in not fioding the
bills which had been taken from Mr. Lockwood,
we turned from the bags to again examine the
dead body. After vainly searching through his
pockets we began to remove his shoes and the
remnant of his clothing left by the fire. AVe
presently found, buckled about his waist, a
broad buokskin girdle, within which were the
bills you see before you on the table. These
being secured, we returned at once.’
‘Did yon leave no one with the dead man ?’
asked Mrs. Goldie.
•Quite a number, attracted by the light of the
lire, had come to toe spot before we left. Some
of these undertook to convey the body to the
store.’
‘Did you find a note signed by Mrs. Goldie ? I
managed to ask in a whisper.
‘We did Dot.’
There was silence for a moment, which was
broken by the doctor:
‘Swetwell and Flapp,’ he said half musingly;
‘they were well matched. But they mnst have
had a jolly carnival last night, each one intent
on poisoning the other. This then explains
why Flapp was so late in making a start to get
away. He was delayed, too, in trying to secure
his ili-gotten gains, But, my friends,’ changing
his tone, and speaking with more animation,
•the strength of our patient is exhausted; he
needs quiet and rest.’
Acting on the hint thus given, all within the
room, including he who gave it, at once ;w‘th-
drew, leaving me to muse in silence on the
events just detailed until sleep came to my re
lief bringing oblivion and rest
TO BE CONTINUED.
A Dangeroni Torpor.—Torpor or inactivity of it
kidney!i is seriously da gorous to those organs, since the
is the precident of diseases which destroy their substance
and endanger life. This sluggishness may b- overcome
by stimulating them, not exeesstvely, but moderately,
an effect produced by Hostutter’s Stomach Bitters, a
general invigorant and alterative, possessing dbiretic
properties of no common order. The impetng whh h this
admirable medicine i ives to their evacnative function
counteracts any tendency to congestion which may exist
in their tissues. Both they and their associate organ,
the bladder are invigorated as well as gently stimulated
by tho Bitters, which exerts a kindred influence upon the
stomach, liver and bowels, and by s'rengthening the svs-
tem, eeableb it to withstand malarial epidemics, to which
when exposed it might otherwise snecomb.
A Wonderful Discovery._« arboline, a deodor
ized extract of petrolinm, is absolutely the only article
that will restore hair to bald heads, is au elegrnt dress-
Wliy Will Yon Allow ucold to advance in your
system and thus encourage more serions maladies, such
as Pneumonia, Hemorrhages and Lung troubles when an
immediate relief can be so readily a'tained? Boschee’s
German Syrup lias gained the largest sale in the world lor
the cure of Coughs, Colds and the severest Lung Dis
eases. It is Dr. Boschee’s famous German prescription,
and is prepared with the greatest care, and no fear need
be entertained in administering it to the youngest child,
as per directions. The sale of this medicie nis unprece
dented. Since first introduced there has been a constant
increasing demand and without a single report of a fail
ure to do its work in any case. Ask vonr druggist as to
the trnih of these remarks. Large size 75 cents. Try it
and be conviLced.
The celebrated instruments of Daniel F, Beatty the
great piano and organ manufacturer of Washington. N.
J„ are unrivalled iu parity of tone, action and excellen
cy of finish, being the result oi years of iudelatigable la
bor, the aim of which has been to make only the very
best, and sell at the least possible profit. This course
has resulted iu the name of Beatty becoming a house
hold word in every State and territorv of the Union and
Canadas, and familiar to numbers of the residems of
England. Germany, France aud Italy. The special offers
of Mr Beatty, which appear in our columns to-day. mean
just what they say. The instruments are all and more
titan is claimed tut them, while the prices arc barely
manufteturer's'eost, for Mr. Beatty is determined to place
his unexcelled instruments in the homes of the entire
music-loving population. No one contemplat ng the
purchase of a" organ or piano should fail to take advan
tage of his offers, as a neglect to do so will be a matter of
regret. Remember these offers are only good during the
n(! xt thirty days. The illustrated catalogue of Mr. Beat-
tv is detailed and fnll of information interesting to every
one. It will he mailed free on application. Send fora
copy to Daniel F, Bsattv. w.cio-.-ton, New Jersey.
Coussens’ Honey of Tar will relieve severe
coughs of long standing, and prove a blessing to
all who suffer with affections of the throat and
lungs, and is confidently offered the public as the
best remedy in the world. In our rigorous clime
where coughs and colds prevail, this favorite rem
edy should have a place iu every household. AVhen
the little ones are attacked by croup, or whooping
cough, nothing will afford such instant relief as
Coussens’ Honey of Tar. Price -50 cents. For
sale by Hunt, Rankin, & Lamar, Wholesale Drug
gists, Atlanta, Ga.
The Mexican Dollar.
What is the difference between the Mexican dol
lar and Tabler’s Buckeye Pile Ointment ? One
does what it promises and the other doesn t. The
Mexican dollar says, ‘1 am one hundred cents ; ’
but when you come to invest i,t you find it is only
eighty-five. Tabler’s Buckeye Pile Ointment says
•I will cure you of Piles; and upon trial it is found
to do so in every case. It makes but one promise—
to cure Piles; and does so without failu.e. Price
50 cents a bottle. For saie by Hunt, Rankin &
Lamar wholsale Druggist, Atlanta, Ga.
Worth Twice the Sum.—We are just in re
ceipt of The Chicago Lelger, the leading
Family Paper of the AVest, which is now enter
ing upon its seventh volume. The Ledger is a
large forty-eight column weekly paper, printed
upon bold, plain type, which can be read with
ease, by either the old or young, and is fitted
with choice stories and matter of p&rticular in
terest to every household. This excellent jourr at
is supplied to subscribers, postage oaid, for the
extremely low price of one dollar and fifty
cents per year. In order to more rapidly in
crease its present large list of readers, the
publishers of this paper have just made a new
contract for the manufacture of sevral thousand
fine Niokle-plated English Steel-Barrel-and-Cvl-
inder Seven Shot Revolvers-22 caliber—whioh
they propose to distribute among their sub
scribers at cost, and therefore offer one of these
elegant weapons of defense and The Ledger
one year for three Dollars. The revolver will
be sent by mail, postage paid, on receipt of
the price. They have already distributed 3,000
revolvers and are mailing hundreds daily. Now
is your time to get a firft-class revolver and the
best paper in the country for less than half the
actual worth of either. Three sample copies of
The Ledger will be sent to any address for
fen cents. Address The Ledger, Chioago, 111.