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L ' . t .' ?> . ' - ? ? ? _ ~ ? - ISSUED SEMI-WEEHLT. l. m. qrist's sons, Publishers, i % cfamilg Deirspger: cjfor ft* ?ronto<ion o?theJ|olitiral, ?orial, ^.jgrictiltural, and (Eommeiinal Jnt^rests of the fjeople. {tee*8in^^ ESTABLISHED 1855. YQRKVILLE, S. C., FRIDAY, MAY 13, 1904. NO. 39. V-2: ilsUCVv-S: :-> . |l Uncle CHARLES CI Copyright, I9 0O, by Synopsis.?Uncle Terry Is the keeper i of the Cape light on Southport Island. ( He has an adopted daughter Telly (Etelka), grown to womanhood, who was rescued when a baby from the i wreck of the Norwegian ship Peterson. < Albert and Alice Page are two or- , phans with a heritage of debt, living in the village of Sandgate. Albert is a < college graduate, and through the in- l fluence of his chum, Frank Nason, gets ( a position in the law office of "Old . Nick" Frye in Boston. Frye is a scoundrel and is attorney for Frank's father, I a wealthy Boston merchant. He wants 1 Albert to keep up his intimacy with Frank, who has a yacht, plenty of money and nothing to do but amuse him- J self. In an evening's outing wiui ? Frank, Albert fritters away $20. At ( s the same time Alice is walking four ( miles a day to teach school and sup- . porting herself and Aunt Susan. Frye 1 Increases Albert's pay from $75. to $175 t a month as a bribe to spy upon the j Nasons. Albert tells Frank of his ? debts, Alice's struggles and his- dislike of expensive follies. Frank confesses < his disgust with an idle life and induces 1 his father to make Albert his attorney { in place of Frye. Albert has $2,500 a year to attend to Nason's affairs. He takes Frank to his village home for c Christmas, with the inevitable result t that his friend is smitten with Alice, j Frank is delighted with the country holiday of sleighrides and skating. Alice keeps him at a distance and tells I her brother that his chum ought to ^ work for a living. A notice appears in . the papers, calling for the heirs of Eric 1 Peterson of Stockholm, whose son and r his wife and child were wrecked on j the Maine coast. Frye is the attorney. Uncle Terry goes to Boston and after telling his story in full gives Frye $200 to recover the estate for Telly. Frank g takes a hint from Alice and studies t law. Albert plans a summer vacation trip to his home for himself and chum. 1 Alice resolves not to fall in love with ?. the city chap according to the plot. c Alice avoids meeting Frank alone. However, he scatters tips so freely among the villagers that gossips set 1 him down as a millionaire courting the g pretty schoolma'am. # c L CHAPTER XIX. n r"pTlRANK NASON had consoled v | I1 | himself during the many 1 f23Sl montlls of hard study with WWJ visions of a yachting trip in July and August, when perhaps in some manner Alice Page could be induced to come, with his mother and sisters to chaperon her and her brother and some other friends to complete the party. He had the Gypsy put in first class shape and all her staterooms refurnished, and one in particular, which he intended Alice should occupy, upholstered in blue. So well formed were his plans that he timed the start so as to utilize the July moon for the first ten days and mapped out a trip taking in all the Maine coast, spending a week at Bar Harbor, and then a run up as far as Nova Scotia. He had described all the charms of this trip to Alice and extended to her the most urgent invitation. He had obtained her brother's promise to supplement it and also to make one of the party, and he had persuaded his sister Blanch to aid him with his mother, but he had met discouragement on all sides. In the first place, Alice wrote it was doubtful if she could go. It would be a delightful outing and one she would enjoy, but it would not be right to leave Aunt Susan alone for so long, and then, as her school did not close until the last of June, she would have no time to get ready. To cap the climax of Frank's discomfiture, when July came his mother announced that she had decided to go to the mountains for the summer. "It's no use, Bert" he said to his friend one evening. "I wanted your sister to go to Maine with us and mother and the girls and a few more to make a party, but it's no go. I can't ' induce your sister to Join us, and it's no use if she would, for mother has ' determined to go to the mountains, and e that settles it If you and I have any * outing on the yacht we must make up a gander party." "That suits me just as well as, and ' In fact better than, the other plan," re- 1 plied Albert consoliugly. "If we have 1 a lot of ladles along we must dance at- 1 tendance upon them, and if not we can c flsli, smoke, play cards, sing or go to sleep when we feel like it. I tell you, Frank." he eontiuued, evidently desir- * Ing to cheer up that young man, "girls are all right as companions at home or at balls and theaters, but on a yacht s they are in the way." A week afterward, and early one f bright morning, the Gypsy, with skipper, crew and a party of eight * jolly young men on board, sailed out of Boston and that night dropped anchor under the lee of an island in j Casco bay. She remained there one . full day und the next ran to Boothbay and found shelter in a landlocked cove forming part of the coast line g Ul jsouiiipon isuiuu. iL nna unci urnner next day, and while the rest of the party were either playing curds or napping in hammocks under the awning. that Albert I'age took one of the boats, his pipe and sketchbook and rowed down the coast a mile to an inlet he had noticed the day before. The outer point of this was formed by a bold cliff that he desired to sketch, and pulling the boat well up behind the inner point, tying the painter to a rock and taking the cushions nlong. he found a shady spot and sat down. The sloping rock he selected for a seat was a little damp, but he thought nothing of it, and lighting his pipe began sketching. He worked for an hour putting the weed draped rocks and long swells that broke over th.em_uito_his. book. fc.m mm Terryg J\RK MUNN pffllli -^???? ' %"* * \^i?#3*#**V I !,?? Va SHETA^TtT} ]:Va'/F md then7 lulled perhaps by" the monotrnous rhythm of the ocean, lay back ) the cushions and fell asleep. The lext he knew he was awakened by a :old sensation and found the tide had isen until it wet his feet. Hastily rettlncr nr>. he took the cushions and eturned to where he had left the boat, >nly to find it had disappeared. The ising tide had lifted the boat and >ainter from the rocks, and it was jowbere to be seen. "There must be some road back up >n the island," he thought "that will ead me near the cove where the 3ypsy is," and. still retaining the mshions. he started to find it But ie was a stranger to Southport island, md the farther away from the sea he ?ot the thicker grew the tangle of scrub spruce and briers. It was too hick to see anywhere, and after n lalf hour of desperate scrambling the ifternoon sun began to seem about due jnst. He had long since dropped the inshions. and finally, in sheer exliaus:ion, he sat down on a rock to collect limself. "It looks as though I'm billed to stay lere all night." he thought as he noted he lowering sun, "and nobody knows iow much longer! There must be a oad sotnewnere, though, and I'm gong to find it if the light lasts long tnougb." He started once more and had not' i tone ten rods ere he came to one, and hen he breathed easier. His clothes ere torn, his hands and face scratch- < u by briers, and to save himself he ouldn't make it seem but that the sun i vas setting "hi the east. lie sat down i o think. All sound of the ocean was 1 ;one, and a stillness thai seemed to rawl out of the thicket was around 1 dm. lie rested a few moments more i md then suddenly heard the sound of vheels and presently saw, coming i :round the curve, an old fashioned arryall, worn and muddy, and. driv- i ng the horse at a jog trot, a man as dilapidated looking as the vehicle. Haddened at the sight, he arose and, tolding up his hand as u signal, halted he team. "Excuse me, sir," he said o the man, who eyed him curiously, but will you tell me where I am?" "Waul," was the answer in a slow Iruwi, "ye're on Southport island an' bout four miles from the jumpin' off ilace. Whar might ye be goin'? Ye ooked bushed.' "I am," answered Tage, "and badly msbed too. I lost my boat over back lere on the shore ' and have had a meeriui urne among xue .uuuuwk jriers. I belong to a yacht that Is mchored in a cove of this island, 1 ran't tell where, and if you will take ue to her I'll pay you well." The man in the wagon laughed. "Say, stranger," he observed with a huckle, "you 'mind me o' the feller hat got full an' wandered round for i spell till he fetched up to a house in' sed to the man that cum to the loor, 'If you will tell me who I am or vhar I am or whar I want ter go I'll five ye a dollar.'" Page had to laugh in spite of his )ligbt. for the humorous twinkle In he old man's eyes as he uttered his oke was Infectious. "I'd like ter 'commodate ye." ho add(d. "but as I'm earryin' Uncle Sam's nail an' must git home an' tend the ight, an' as ye don't know whar ye vant ter go. ye best jump in an' go lown to Saint's Rest, whar I live, an' n the mornin' we'll try an' hunt up rer boat." It seemed the only thing to do, and Ubert availed himself of the chance. "Can you tell the spot where you 'ound me?" he said to the man as they itarted on. "I'd like to go back there omorrow and And my cushions." "Waal," was the answer, "as I've Iruv over this road twice a day for ligh on to thirty year, I'm tolerable lamlliar with it. My name's Terry, in' I'm keeper o' the light at the Cape in' carry the mail to sorter piece out >n. Who might ye be?" "My name's Page, und I'm from Boson, and a lawyer by profession," redied Albert. TTrmlo Topit ornrt him ruthpr ahnrnlv "I wouldn't 'a' took ye fer one," he laid. "Ye look too honest. I ain't nueh .-,tuck on lawyers," he added with i chuckle. "I've had 'sperenee with em. One of 'em sold me a hole in the frouiKl onet. an' it cost me the hull o' twenty years' savin's! Ye'U 'scuse ne fer bein' blunt?it's my natur." "Oh, I don't mind," responded Al>ert laughingly. "But you mustn't udge us all by one rascal." They drove on, and as they jogged ip and down the sharp hills he caught light here and there of the ocean, and ilongslde the road, which consisted of wo ruts, a path and two grass grown idges. he saw wild roses in endless H'ofusion. On either hand was an interminable thicket. In the little valeys grew masses of rank ferns and >u the ridges, interspersed between the wild roses, clusters of red bunchjerries. The sun was almost down tvhen they reached the top of a long lilll and he saw at Its foot a small harbor connected with the ocean by a narrow Inlet and around It a dozen or more brown houses. Beyond was a tangle of rocks and, rising above them, the top of a white lighthouse. Uncle rerry, who had kept up a running fire of questions all the time, halted the horse and said: "Ye can now take yer first look at Saint'3 itost. otherwise known as the Cape." WeTcetch somelolJSterfl'aH'TlsH here an' hev prayer meetln's once a week." Then he chirruped to the horse, and they rattled down the hill to a small store, where he left a mail pouch and then followed a winding road between the scattered houses and out to the point, where stood a neat white dwelling close beside a lighthouse. "I'll take ye into the house," Bald Uncle Terry as the two alighted, "an' tell the wimmin folks to put on an extra plate, an' I'll put up the boss." "I'm afraid I'm putting your family to some inconvenience," responded Albert, "and as it is not dark yet I will walk out on the point. I may see the yacht and save you all trouble." The sun, a ball of fire, was almost at the horizon, the sea all around lay ao Mmwt Mnmskm/1^?in i Stifjd, (here uncon8duu8. I unruffled expanse of dart blue, undulating with the ground swells that 1 caught the red glow of the sinking sun 1 as they caine in and broke upon the < rocks. Albert walked on to the highest < of the shore rocks and looked about. ' There was no sign of the Gypsy, and 1 only one boat was visible, and that a dory rowed by a man standing upright 1 Over the still waters Albert could de- 1 tcrct the measured stroke of his oars. ' That and the low rumble of the ground 1 Bwells, breaking almost at his feet * ? 1~ ?i Ilk. . .1 were me ouiy euuuus. n ? uo hk <* dream of solitude, far removed from the world and all its distractions. For a few momenta be stood contemplating the ocean alight with the setting sun's red glow, the gray rocks at his feet and the tall white lighthouse towering above him, and then started around the point. He had not taken ten steps when he saw the figure of a girl leaning against a rock aud watching the setting sun. One elbow was resting on the rock, her face reposing in her open band and fingers half hid in the thick masses of hair that shone in the sunlight like burnished gold. A broad sun hat lay on the rock, and the delicate profile of her face was sharply outlined against the western sky. She had not heard Albert's steps, but stood there unconscious of bis scrutiny. He noted the classic contour of her features, the delicate oval of her lips and chin, and his artist eye dwelt upon and admired her rounded bosom and perfect shoulders. Had she posed for a picture she could not have chosen a better position, and was so alluring and withal so sweet and unconscious that for a momeut he forgot all else, even his own rudeness in standing there and staring at her. Then he recovered himself and, turning, softly retraced his steps so as not to disturb her. Who she was he had no idea and was still wondering when he met Uncle Terry, frho at once invited him into the house. "This 'ere's Mr. Page, Lissy." he said aa thov nntortvl nnrl mot n stent. elder ly and gray Laired woman. "I found . him up the road a spell an' wantin' to know whar he was." Albert bowed. "I am sorry to intrude," be said, "but I bad lost my boat and all points of the compass when your husband kindly , took me in charge." Being offered a chair, Albert sat down and was left alone. He surveyed the plainly furnished sitting room, with , open fireplace, a many colored rag carpet on tbe floor, old fashioned chairs , and dozens of pictures on the walls. i They caught his eye at once, mainly , because of the oddity of the frames, which were evidently homemade, and . then a door was opened, and Uncle Terry invited him into a lighted room where a table was set. The elderly . lady was standing at one end of it and beside her a younger one, nnd as Albert entered he heard Uncle Terry say. "This is our gal Telly, Mr. Page," and , as he bowed he saw, garbed in spotless white, the girl he had seen leaning against the rock and watching the sunset. CHAPTER XX. T1HE appealing yet wondering glance that Albert Page met as he bowed to the girl stand iSiragSwi lug beside the table that even ing was one he never afterward forgo It was only one, for after that and dur- , ing the entire meal her blue eyes were kept veiled by their long lashes or modestly directed elsewhere. "It's a charming spot down here," he remarked soon after the meal began "and so hidden that It is a surprise, i noticed the light as we came In, but did not see the village." "Waal, ye didn't miss anything," responded his host. "None o' the houses are much for style, an' mebbe it's lucky they're hid behind the rocks." "I thought them quaint and comfortable," observed Albert, "but what an odd name you have for the place! Why do you call It Saint's Rest?" "Chiefly 'cause none o* the people have any chance to become sinners, I reckon," was the answer. "It's a trifle lonesome in the winter, though." "I suppose Ashing^ is your principal occupation here," continued Albert, seeing that sentiment was not considered by Uncle Terry. "Yonr land does not seem adapted for cultivation." "There ain't much chance for tillln'," he replied. "The land's wuss'n whar I was brung up, down In Connecticut, an' thar we had ter round up the sheep once a week an' sharpen thar noses on the grin'stun! We manage ter raise 'uough ter eat. though!" When the meal was over Uncle Terry said: "It's nice an' cool out on the r.-u-i.-a ?n' tliar's some seats out thar. If ye eDjoy suiokin' \fre best go out wl.ile the wlmmin ' are doln' the dishes." The moon that Frank had planned to use was neuring Its full and high overhead, and as the two men sought congeniality In tobacco out on that lonesome point Albert could not curb his admiration for the scene. His offer of a cigar to his host had been accepted. and as that quaint man sat quietly enjoying an odor and flavor he was unaccustomed to ,Albert said: "This experience has been a surprise to me from the moment I met you. I had an ugly hour's scramble over the rocks and through a tangle of scrub spruce and briers until I was utterly lost and believed this Island an Impassable wilderness. Then you came along and brought me to one of the most beautiful spots I ever saw. I should like to stay here all summer nnd do nothing but look at this magnificent ocean view and sketch these bold shores." * "Do you paint picturs too?" queried Uncle Terry, suddenly Interested. "Telly's daft on doin' that, an' is at It all the time she can git"~ Then he nr\Aextl urlth o oUtrht raflc^Hnn nf nHHn "Mebbe ye noticed some o' her plctura In the slttln' room?" , "I saw a lot of pictures there," answered Albert, "but It was too dark to see them well. I should like to look at them in the morning." "Ye'll hev plenty o' time," was the reply, "I must pull my lobster traps Fust, an' after that I'll take ye In my lory an* we'll go an' find yer boat I juess she must be lyln' In Seal cove, the only openln' 'twixt here an' the lead she'd be likely ter run Into." "And so your daughter Is an artist is she?" asked Albert Indifferent now is to where the Gypsy was or when le was likely to return to her. "Has she ever taken lessons?" "No, It conies nat'ral to her," replied Dncle Terry; "she showed the bent o' ler mind 'fore she was ten years old, in' she's pestered me ever since ter git ler canvas an' paints an' slch. But then, I'm willin' ter," he added In a tender tone. Telly's a good girl, an' Llssy an' me set great store by her. She's all we've got in the world." Then pointing to n small tfalte stone just to the right of where they were, he ldded, "Thar's whar the other one's seen layln' fer mor'u twenty years." "This one has grown to be a very aeautlful girl," said Albert quietly, 'and j'ou have reason to be proud Of ner." Uncle Terry made no reply, but seemed lost In a reverie, and Albert slowly puffed bis cigar and looked out in the ocean and along the ever widening puth of moonlight He wished that this fair girl, so quaintly spoken if, were there beside him, that be alight talk to her about her art. How It could be managed and what excuse to give for remaining longer than the morrow he could not see. He looked toward the house, white in the moonlight with the tall lighthouse and Its beacon flash just beyond, and wonflered If he should see the girl again that night. He was on the point of suggesting they go In and visit a little with the ladies when Uncle Terry said: "I believe ye called yerself a lawyer, Mr. Page, an' from Boston. Do ye happen to know a lawyer thar that has got Byes like a cat an' rubs his hands as If tie was washin' 'em while he's talkIn'?" Albert gave a start "I do, Mr. leery," he answered. "I know him well. His name is Frye, Nicholas Frye." "An' as ye're a lawyer, an' one tnar looks to me as honest," continued Uncle Terry, "what Is yer honest opinion of this Mr. Frye?" "That is a question I would rather not answer," replied Albert, "until I know why you ask it and what your opinion of Mr. Frye la Mine might not flatter him, and I do not believe In speaking 111 of anybody unless forced to." Uncle Terry was silent, evidently revolving a serious problem in bis mind. "I am goin' to beg yer pardon, Mr. Page," he said at last, "fer speakin' the way I did regardin' lawyers In gineral. My 'sperence with 'em has been bad, an' naterally I don't trust 'em much. I've had some dealin's with this 'ere Frye 'bout a matter I don't want to tell 'bout, an' fbe way things Is workin' ain't as they should be. I b'lieve I'm robbed right along, an' if ye're willin' to help me I shall be most tarnally grateful an' will give ye my word I'll never let on to anybody what ye say?an' Silas Terry never yit broke his promise." Albert silently offered his hand to Uncle Terry, who grasped it cordially. "I will tell you, Mr. Terry," he said after the handshake, "all I know about Mr. Frvo and what my opinion is of him. What your business with him is, matters not. I am certain you will keep your word. I recently worked for Mr. Frye six months and left him to open an office for myself. In that six months I became satisfied Nicholas Frye was the most unprincipled villain ever masked under the name of lawyer. If all those you have had business with were like him, I don't wonder at your remark today." Uncle Terry leaned forward, with elbows on his knees, resting his face In the palms of his hands, and ejaculated: "I knew it! I knew it! I'm a blamed old fool an' ought to hev a keeper put over me!" Then turning to Albert he udded, "I've paid that thief over $400 this year an' hain't got a scrap of paper to show fer 't an' notbln's beea_done so fer as I kin see "ft>ut the business." He meditated a few moments and then turning around suddenly added: "My P< wife an* Telly don't know nothln' 'bout this, an' I don't want they should. Thar's a sucker born every minit an' 0f two to ketch him, an' I b'lieve it! I've a been ketcbed an' skinned fer dead sure. I want to sleep on't, an' mebbe In the 0f mornin' I'll tell ye the hull story an* of how I've been made a fool of. I'm be- ab ginnin' to think I kin trust ye." ab "I thank you for your good opinion," ov answered Albert, "and if I can help you In any way I will." When the two returned to the house, be Albert was shown to a room that re- j minded him of bis boyhood home, the old fashioned bed, spotless counter- ' pane and muslin curtains all seemed bo sweet and wholesome. A faint odor t of lavender carried him back to the 0 time when his mother's bed linen ex- qu haled the same sweet fragrance. He ag lighted a cigar and sat down by a window where the crisp salt sea air came %v in. and tried to fathom what manner of ta business Uncle Terry could have with t0 Frye. And Into this meditation also crept the face and form of the girl he bad first seen watching the sunset In to be continued. pisccllattrous leading. so FUNNY FEATURES OF THE FAIR. A Waxen Woman?An Iron Man?A a]( Cotton Darkey?A Horse of Hops? rn) A Prune Bear and Other Odd Objeots In the Exhibits. on Correspondence of the Yorkrille Enquirer. In St. Louis, May 7.?Quaint and curious are many of the objects on exhi- an bitlon at the World's Fair. Several of the states vie with each other in presenting the oddest freaks of human ar conception to exploit their respective ^ products. Some of these creations at provoke broad smiles, not to say hearty laughter, but all are useful In showing forth some leading product of CQ the state to which they belong. hl] California sends several such exhlbits. One is a horse made entirely of pe hops. In size and appearance this fig- ^r( ure looks Just like a real horse, and some of the athletic girls who have tr) seen the animal in the Palace of Agrl- nQ culture have remarked facetiously that Q(, they would like to harness "Hoppy" for a drive around the grounds. "Hoppy" ca is from Sacramento county, where hops eg grow abundantly. California's exhibit also shows a startlingly lifelike black bear, reared ha upon his haunches as if ready to hug th the visitor. He is made of prunes, th of the black variety so popular with j boardinghouse landladies In certain cities. His huee mouth is wide open. and one finds on close examination that r(J even his teeth and tongue are made of j prunes of the lighter shades. ba In Utah's exhibit there Is a statue D6 of a beautiful woman In beeswax. This . tei dainty female Is plump and solid, no framework being used; she Is wax bo through and through, and Is a work b of art. Louisiana furnishes a cotton negro. This Is the only white negro on record. w< Hd has a black face, however, the cot- th ton forming his face being dyed to fln the proper hue. The figure represents an a typical cotton plantation darkey. ^ He looks happy, and causes many a ab smile from the spectators. ^ In the Palace of Mines and MetallurCO gy Is an Iron man, a statue of Vulcan, ^ 50 feet tall, cast In Birmingham, Ala. He Is mounted upon a pedestal of coal fe] and coke, and Is the Goliath of the Exposition. A statue of the famous Indian girl, ar Pocahontas, made of leaf tobacco, tb represents Virginia in both history ^ and agriculture. Kansas has contrl- tb buted a huge steer made entirely of pr corn. Red and white grains of corn gj give It color. Two big eagles made of corn husks add to the Kansas display a m) touch of American patriotism. ?b Figures moulded In butter are provided by several of the states, with , proper refrigerating accomodations, jj. There Is an ingenious map of Oklahoma Territory made of the various cJ kinds of woods found In that territory. ng Indiana has a clock made entirely of th wood, even to the wheels and mainspring. ,ai As a feature of Alaska's mineral ex- an hlbit there is an icebox apparently . - ' ta. i- ^ maae or goia. n i? t?>cicu mm leaf, and is designed to represent the "worthless icebox," as Alaska was conap temptuously called when it was purchased from Russia for $7,200,000. ^ FRIED ONIONS. a? It Will Kill Germs and Are a Sure Cure for Pneumonia. Ier Owing to the prevalence of pneumo- jaJ nia and the great mortality which has w, attended its ravages this winter and spring several boards of health in northern New Jersey have been taking measures against the disease. The health board of Little Washington has Qg published a remedy which is said to fa] be a sure cure for pneumonia and oth- Qp er health boards are looking into the h?) matter with a view to having the same ^ thing published for the good of the px general public. The infallible cure is: jaj Take six to ten onions, according to size, and chop fine; put in a large , spider over a hot fire, then add about th the same quantity of rye meal and j vinegar enough to form a thick paste. In the meanwhile stir it thoroughly, letting it simmer Ave or ten minutes, dii Then put in a cotton bag large enough w to cover the lungs and apply to the re, chest as hot as the patient can bear. In about ten minutes change the poul- an tice, and thus continue by reheating th the poultices, and in a few hours the n0 patient will be out of danger. This simple remedy has never failed to cure this too often fatal malady. Usually thre# or four applications will in be sufficient, but continue always un- ar, til perspiration starts freely from the chest. This remedy was formulated m| many years ago by one of the best ru physicians New England has ever ]aj known, who never lost a patient by the ot VI. aim- ai I disease, anu wuu u?a \jf pie remedies.?Morrlstown, N. J. Cor. 1L New York Tribune. 1 ?h GHOST REVEALS BURIED CITY. th< liv jculiar Conduct of Other Reetlett pa 8pirite. ly Coadepec, a little village in the state * Michoacan, Mexico, has always had ?' reputation for ghosts and spirits. In du e past year, especially, inhabitants at - - - ... .. roi the air or the streams or tne graves ? the many dead that lie burled all abl out the village have been wandering ani out like a colony of reckless night ow rts. They have not been the least shy, la*' ce ordinary ghosts, for they have en seen by hundreds. In fact, there ap' hardly an Inhabitant that has not ma ide an acquaintance with some spirit ( other from the past. Jose Miranda, of all the people, seems ^yl have profited most by their ac- ho' alntance. One night several weeks prl 0 as he was coming home from a op' lghborlng village, a ghost all in spl ilte, its gray cowl falling back from tb 1 shoulders leaving Its head exposed view, met him. It was standing be- 1 een him and the moon, which was ,n Inlng brightly through the hollow t0 ckets of its ayes and a bullet hole In Its skull. *er It stood and pointed with one bony e nd toward the mountains. Miranda pa! is unable to move, but the horse, as e* on as It caught sight of the ghost, ide for the village as fast as It could T A week later Miranda was riding f mg this same road when the ghost an' it him In the same place. This time r0 seized the animal by the bridle with a e hand and pointed with the other e' the direction of the hills. Jose J ought he had better humor the ghost, Ha d turning around went In the dlrecin indicated. th( In about a quarter of an hour they r rived at the foothills. The ghost (nt vrtrto/l on/1 nolnto/1 tn Q V> licro fltoilA w - ..-D~ ? ve, the foot of a tall tree and then lm- ap] idlately disappeared. It was two weeks before Miranda ugi uld persuade any person to got with ex) m to the spot, which he had marked 0,? a cross. He succeeded at last In ^g( rsuadlng an Indian and a missionary 1 )m Mexico City to accompany him. When they got to the place they tQ ed to move the big stone, but could hje t. They then dug under one side an" it and let it roll down the hill. After about a? hour's work they yQ1 me upon a circle of skulls, stone axand relics of a long past age. Ex- r ilnatlon showed that the big stone .d carved upon its surface a gigantic nd, and that the Circle of Skulls, as QUj e place is now called, was part of < e remains of a great ancient city ilch had been burled by landslides. ^ At Nasonville, in the town of Bur- 1 'J lvllle, R. I., there was a large house att ilch had for some time been bom- ^ rded with showers of stones. The un ople of the wrought-up village, at- h r weeks of careful Investigation and gQ( any conferences with their nelghrs, are at a loss to explain where e stones should have come from. They had all heard the bombard- a ' eai jnt often, ana as many as nny men, )men and children had surrounded wo e house, looked behind every tree th{ d stone wall within a hundred yards, hai d had even scoured a distant grove th< trees; but they had never been Pla le to catch a glimpse of any kind ?? being either flesh or In spirit that ^ uld have been suspected of throwing tbe >nes. mi Finally, the owner of the house of- thl red a reward of $25 for the solution bo' the mystery. Then the bombard- tbe >nt ceased. From this many people thf gued that a human being was at ^Ul e bottom of the whole affair, con- J riding that ghosts would not stop of sir devilment simply because a 'ng ice had been set on their apprehen- b'e soc >n. "But If It Isn't ghosts," asks one wa in who isn't afraid of being called ughouse," "what then is It?" ^a! to The North Woods Cemetery at lines street and York road, Phllelphia, was the scene of much exement among the residents of that ? ighborhood. Many people declared Mr it they had seen spooks. . The supposed ghost appeared regu- . ly as soon as darkness fell, and with j uncanny motion of walking upon ? , flitted from one gravestone to an- ^ her. There was no conventional oans or cianiting 01 cnmns, uui no ^ pearance was so uncanny as to draw ^ Dwds of awe stricken people night thj ter night. . on] A. horseman named Edward Hogan wj aited the spook's arrival, and when , appeared ran toward it. The ghost for oved to be the reflection of a gaso- tng le lamp. The light reflected on a ge polished granite monument, an( is distributed about as the gasolene Jng ;kered and gave the appearance of he( ghosty moving figure. an( About two miles from the village of err inton, Me., is a cosy, old-fashioned Q rm house which is located directly no posite a graveyard, with no other j use in sight. From the window of ily Is little house nothing can be seen . cept the'graveyard with its gleam- pia ? stones, and the hills and* moun- am ins round about. ^ The family that has been occupying j,a( e house moved out not long ago, de- the iring that they could not stand it n0' y longer, that they were wellnigh stracted by the demonstrations, hen they told their story a former In sident, who now lives In Hartford, ^a nminr-oa tViat ho hnH known for vears _tJ 1UUI.VVU w,1*v "w .?v. - - yia at the place was haunted. He had thi t told any one for fear of the rldi- the le of his neighbors. The demonstrations were not only the house, but In the barn and fee ound the premises. Regularly every P?j ght at 12 o'clock a team of horses e. shes from the direction of the vll- to ?e, rumbles over the little bridge mil a slashing gait, and then disappears. never reaches the house. Instead, t0 ostly voices address the members of Jov i family who have the temerity to e there, the voldes coming from all rts of the house, but never so clearthat they can be located. 3n one memorable night a member the family went to the barn Just at sk without a lantern. A figure stood the corner of the building, and he i to learn what the straggler wanted out the place. The figure silently d mysteriously melted into the shad8 and was gone. rhe foundation of the story was d seventy-five years ago. At that te a young woman, handsome and parently happy, was betrothed to .rry a neighboring farmer. Dne evening she went into the vil;e and later that night she was found Ing by the roadside in front of the use. She was buried in the little vate burial ground, and the general Inlon seems to be it is her unquiet rlt which is disturbing the peace of s dwellers in the old house. rwo districts in Ulster, Ireland, are a state of great excitement owing supposed supernatural visitations. County Cavan no one stirs out afdark, and the people are said to in a state of terror, as for weeks st the most unearthly sounds have :n heard every night, n the farmhouse of a man named ompson in County Tyrone, stones 3 bricks have been hurled through ; windows, and churns, milk pans a other utensils have disappeared >m the dairy, although the doors ve been locked and strict watch ?t. V college story that is often told at .rvard is cited sometimes as show- , ; the effect of an apparition upon ! one who beholds it. rhe story is of a youth who took it o his wise head to endeavor to conan infield companion of his by pearlng as a ghost before him. He :ordingly dressed himself up in the jal ghost attire, having previously iracted the ball from a pistol which T..ys lay near the head of his friend's 1. Jpon first awakening and seeing the paritlon, Brown, the youth who was frfffhtonpH vprv cnnllv Innkpd > companion, the ghost, In the face a said: / 'I know you; this Is a good joke; u see I am not alarmed. Now you Ly vanish." ' &y"" ' The ghost stood still. 'Go on now," said Brown. "That to >ugh. I shall become angry, det t of here." Still the ghost did not move. 'By ," burst forth Brown, "if you n't get out of here in three minutes shoot you." - ' ' Be waited the time stated, dellbersly leveled his pistol and fired, hen he saw that the Immovable flgi stood stock still Brown uttered a rlek of fright, became convulsed and >n afterward died. n Columbus, Ga., the Fortune Hole, place where the city carts dump its rbage, was infested by negroes who uld search there for articles which >y might be able to use, but which d been discarded by the people of > town. But the "ha'nts" are on the .ee now, and no colored man will within blocks of It . The old pine coffin which contained t body of Charley Sparks, a negro irderer who was hanged, had been own Into the hc'e. His mother jght him another offln, and when > colored undertaker refused to take ! old pine one In exchange she mped It Into the Fortune Hole. L little negro boy secured a piece the Sparks coffin, and congratulat; himself upon having such a fine ce of kindling, carried It home. As >n as his mother found, out that it s a piece of a coffin, she had it own Into the river, and ever since j resorted to divers' voodoo methods conjure the evil spirits away from He Was Saving the Country. Lawyer W. R. Cline of Erie has d a divorce petition in behalf of s. Betsy Smith. It is different from ; dry-as-dust papers usually found such proceedings, as, for example, this description of Mr. Smith: That for several years prior to this te defendant became a frequenter of oons and spent his time in loafing, cussing politics, whittling dry goods ' ces and saving the government of > United States from ruin; that the y necessaries of life that he was lling to provide for plaintiff was iter' and this marital duty he permed grudgingly, his whole time be: occupied In preparing for a cont with the red dragon, the octopus i other monsters that were breath: destruction and devastating . the pless millions of American serfs, 1 so engrossed was defendant in dng the running gear of this goviment and advocating a dollar that uld be good In Europe that he took time to indulge in the vulgar purts of rustling provender for the famlarder. 'That this work was left solely to intiff, and that she kept the gaunt i hungry wolf from the door only running her sewing machine from nn's early light till the king of day 3 retired to his night's repose in i ! western horizon; that plaintiff has :hing for all these thirty years' work keep her from want; even hersew; machine is in the possession of this iat financial general, who is so apt his dissertations on finance, per plter" and the maintenance of the % in the Philippines; that this .intiff is no richer than she was rty years ago, when she was led to ! altar by the defendant?except in Derience?and though she is broken health, plaintiff is willing to take > above asset for her sole alimony, ling that it will be easier to suprt herself than to provide longer for Pendant. 'That plaintiff feels that she ought have her sewing machine as a render of the work that it has permed in the past and as a memento it she was once united in marriage the defendant herein."?Kansas City lrnal.