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?? 'mgm^ lewism' qki8tnftopnetor.} -A11 Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. j?z peeakhukinadvAidw. VOL. 5. 7 : YOEKYILLE, S.C., THURSDAY, AUGUST 25,1859. - ; :?* Nd. 84: "Milk J%j}%arty' WRITTEN FOB THE YC "WHO IS T . * OJ THE DARK MYSTERY OF BY WILLIE L AUTHOR OF "LULA WOODSWORTH," "WINN! SUN," "OLD HEADS AND Y ABRIDGEMENT. Ghapteb I.?A matoh-vender, named Jim, accosts a gentleman?George Vandry?to whom he desires to sell a part of his merchandize. Vandry having but just met with a heavy pecuniary loss, is not in the best of humors, and gives the boy a sharp reply. The boy replies in the same strain ; provoking Vandry so much, that, losing all selfcontrol, he inflicts several cruel and severe blows upon the boy's shoulder with his walking cane. Surprised at the boy's power of endurance, Vandry endeavors to ascertain something of his antecedents?his name, parents, place of residence &c. To bis surprise, the boy knows nothing of his parents; refuses to make known his residence; to accompany him home ; to accept cf his proffered friendship or to receive money at his hands. Jim wanders off to the river-side ; i) so mortified and saddened by the cruel treatment of Vandry, that he throws himself under the shading branches of an oak and bursts into tears. Rosa, a beautiful child of about his own age, addresses the weeping boy. They enter into conversation, in the midst of which, theyare interrupted bythe appearance of a strange old woman, who wishes to purchase matches from Jim. Rosa ia alarmed and runs to her mother, who is walking in another part of the grounds. The strange woman makes herself known to Jim as old Loo, the fortune teller, and advises him to stop selling matches ; to leave his present place of abode ; to endeavor to obtain an education; to be very careful with whom he associates, as he is in danger?iminent danger. She could, if he were not too young, tell him more of himself; of his parents and birth than he knew or dreamed of. After Loo leaves him, he is alarmed by the cry: "help! help!" from another part of the grounds. He rushes to the spot just in time to save Rosa from a watery grave. Jim is about to leave the grounds, when old Loo again makes her appearance ; and, angrily demands an explanation of his conduct in saving Rosa. Jim endeavors to justify his conduct by appealing to the law of instinctive benevolence and duty. Old Loo, in much agitation, assures him that it would be far better that the girl should have been drowned in her inuocence, than be saved to the great sorrows that were in the future; that he would be called upon to endure much for Rosa; but that as he had saved her, he must nerve his heart fgr the sorrows and perils which would ultimately grow out of the act. r>TT ?The chanter onens at a Dublic inn,' fifty "nfiTes" from the town where the Incidents, related above, took pine*. The lnndlnrd?Thomas Gould?enters into conversation with a certain Jude Simster, who has but just returned to England after an absence of some thirteen years, and presses him to join him in a glass of wine. Jude denies his identity, and assures the landlord that he is mistaken in applying that name to him; but, after finding his denial altogether useless, and that the landlord has recognized him even in his disguise, he acknowledges that such is his name, and requests the landlord to make it known to no person, as certain reasons have made it necessary for him to adopt an assumed one. A stage arrives. Two gentlemen epter the inn, one of whom is at once recognized by Jude as Claude Milton ; while the appearance of the other does not seem altogether unfamiliar to him. Claude Milton addresses Jude in a tone of haughty contempt; and the latter returns the compliment in like manner. Milton deems it the best policy to make friends; and the two persons bury their spleen in a bottle of the landlord's wine. Milton's travelling companion, who, since his entrance in the inn, had preserved a sullen silence, was then requested to join them in a glass. He haughtily refuses, but insultingly offers to pay the gentleman's wine bill. Milton becomes angry ?the landlord interferes?and Milton apologizes for intruding upon the meditations of the stranger. The stranger, upon hearing Milton's apology, regrets his rude and uncalled for response, and entreats the pardon of Milton; states how the cruelty, injustice and ingratitude of his fellow men has soured his disposition; had been absent from Englaud for thirteen years, having been driven from her shores by a sorrow too sacred for words to express ; had returned altogether changed in disposition. Was desirous of knowing where old Loo could be found, as she was in possession of secrets of the utmost importance to him &c. Barney, a young Irishman, then rushes into the inn apparently much alarmed. Relates his ad TT?.rJ on onnoritiAn Q t tllP "Dfl. I yemurcj!. JLf.au 3CCU ou a^muivu ? ?~v ? ~ serted House ;" bad heard terrible screams while passing. The stranger, who had since given his name as Wentworth, calls for ahorse, and expresses bis intention of immediately setting oat for the "Deserted House," but is finally over persuaded to postpone his visit until the morning, when Milton would accompany him. Milton and Wentworth then sup together, after which, the latter expresses his intention of retiring to his chamber. Ho finds that the charges have been withdrawn from his pistols, and demands an explanation from the landlord. The landlord knows nothing about it; and Wentworth, after bestowing a loek of suspicion upon Milton, leaves the room, and repairs to his chamber, followed by the landlord. CHAPTER III. Some strange commotion Is in his brain : he bites his lip, and starts : Stop on a sudden, looks upon the ground Then lays his finger on his temple ; straight, Springs out into fast gait; then stops again." Shakspeare. "What, are my door opposed against my passage ? Have I been ever free, and must my house By my retentive enemy, my gaol ? The place, where I have feasted, does it now, Like all mankind, show me an iron heart? No sooner had Wentworth and the landlord left the room, than Milton arose from* his seat, and began pacing the apartment with rapid strides as if his mind had been wrought up to the highest possible degree of excitement and rage. Barney, who was then rapidly disposing of the remnants of the supper, ever and anon ' 1? a. ! glancccl wonaeringiy upon .nuiou, uot imagining what in the world had come over him, and determined to beat a hasty retreat, as soon as he could devour a very dainty looking morsel of venison, which he had just taken upon his plate. Barney was just about to leave the table, when Milton placed his hand upon his shoulder, and said in an undertone of voice :? "Promise me, that you will mention nothing about what you may have seen or heard at the deserted house to night, and you shall never want for anything that love or money can procure." 'Its not the likes o'meself to tell a gintleman's sacrets to ivry man in the town,' replied Barney. 'A gentleman's secrets!' repeated Milton, starting and growing pale. 'What mean you, sir?" Original Jfoibdttte. RKYILLE ENQUIRER. HE HEIR?" R, THE DESERTED HOUSE. IGHTHEART, E AND WILLIE," "THE CHILDREN OF THE OUNQ HEARTS," AC., AC. ? ? 'I beg pardon?I'll niver tell a word of me adventures to ooy living man,' said Barney, moving towords the door. Stop, Barney,' said Millton, taking from his pocket a well-filled purse. 'Here are a few pounds for your folks at home, whom I know are not above accepting a small trifle from one who gives it with a sincere desire to minister to their temporal comforts." 'Hivven bliss ye! 'twill be a rigular fort* ?\ i i n k i tune ior tnepuir outa craters in uorx, saia poor Barney, with tears in his eyes. 'Is it enough to take three folks to Ameriky, dacintly?' 'Do not think of going to America, Barney ) for after you get there, you will find it just as hard to earn your food as in old England or Ireland. It is a great mistake, that your olass of people make, when you sup? Milton suddenly paused, as if a thought of some point and importance had occured to his mind, and arrested bis words; then, after pacing up and down the room for some moments, he seated himself in a corner of the room in deep silence and gloom. Barney watched the moments of his mysterious companion with considerable interest ; then advancing toward Milton, with hat in hand, he said : 'Ye would not be afther advising me to go to Ameriky, thin V 'Well, Barney,' said Milton, 'when I think over the matter a little, I do not know but what a hard working mechanio, like yourself, would stand an excellent chance in some of the western States. Not only are wages higher, and land oheap, but a man has opportunities of being promoted tooffioesof public trust, and making an immense fortune by safe speculations. If you lived here a hundred years, you would never be anything more than poor Barney O'Flannagan, tlie wheelright; but ten years good behavior, and sharp dealing in the States, may make of you a gentleman of position, wealth, and influence.' ?Thin, by me sowl! Ameriky's the land for puir Barney !' exclaimed the delighted Irishman, rubbing his hands. 'We will speak more about this matter at some other time Barney,' said Milton; 'but you must not forget, that you have promised to say nothing about your adventures at the deserted house. Such a strange tale as you have told us must not become public, or it would materially lessen the value of the property, you know. But, Barney, who is this Mr. Wentworth, that has just left us in such a passion about his pistols ?' 'Niver saw the gintleman, before, 'replied Barney. 'Ah ! very well; I thought, that youmight possibly have known him, that's all,' replied Milton, with assumed indifference. 'If ye have nothing more to spake to me,' said Barney, rubbing his eyes, and moving towards the door. 'I'll jist see if uncle Tom will not show me a matrass to slape upon.' ?I have nothing more to say, Barney? but, stop !?who is that man asleep upon the sofa yonder ?' Ooh! its the puir drunken body, that spake to ye whin ye first came in.' 'Yes, I knew all that; but what is his name ?' asked Milton, in a whisper. 'His name??shure its no the likes o'meself can tell ye the same,' replied Barney yawning. <\17oll Troll it ilnoo nnt mottor ' aai A Afil_ I v..., " , ? ?" """"""""I ton, still looking towards the sleeper. 'You may leave me, Barney.' c Barney gladly made his exit; while Milton again began to pace the room to and fro with quick, sudden strides. <A very strange tale !' soliloquized Milton. 'The old house has been closed and unoccupied for at least fourteen years, and yet every person, whom I have seen, speaks of it. as being haunted. 'Tis plain, that this honest fellow has been terribly alarmed and frightened about something?Oh, God ! can it be a?pshaw! I will not believe it!' 'Wentworth ! why must he insist upon entering the old house to-morrow ? Who is he, that I cannot look upon him without a shudder throughout my whole nature ?? How is it, that he manifests such an interest in young Julius D'Vilton, whom he has never seen? Know his mother!?ha! ha!? his mother!?a bastard's mother, forsooth!' 'Claude Milton, beware!' said a loud voice. 'Heavens !' exclaimed Milton, <1 am entainiDg a listener!' and so saying, he snatched the candle from the mantle-piece and held it high above his head, looking in the direction from whence the voice seemed to have proceeded. Except Jude and himself, there certainly was no human being in the room; and Milton's hand trembled as he replaced the candle, and looked wilkly around the old wainscoted room. Milton drained alarge glass of wine; then cautiouslv advanced towards Jude with the intention of awakening him. 'Do not trouble yourself, Claude Milton" said Jude, jumping to his feet; 'you peroeive that I am wide awake.' 'My dear sir, who are you ? and why have you practised this deception upon us V asked Milton. 'What deception do you allude to ?' asked Jude. ?'Why, you were thought to be in a drunk en sleep, aod I find, that you are quite sober, and perhaps have not been asleep one .mo- t ment,' said Milton. - c 'Why, Claude Milton, I have been so wide awake, and in such a perfect state of 1 sobriety, that I have heard every word spo- ? en in this room to-night.' f 'Every word??did you hear Barney's tale about the old deserted house ?' asked 1 Milton, eagerly. 'Certainly I did,' replied Jude. < 'Curse my folly 1'?exclaimed Milton,bit- < terly; striking his brow with his clenched i fists. 'I beg, that you will suffer what you i have heard to go.no further, my good sir.' 0, no; such a strange tale might lesson i .the value of the property,' replied Jude, sar- i casticdly. i 'What do you mean by tbatsnnie r aeKea Milton. * | <A guilty conscience needs no aocuser, Claude Milton,' said Jude. 1 'It strikes me, sir,' said Milton, erecting his manly-form, 'that your impudence and familiarity go very far beyond your acquaiu- 1 tance.' 1 'Well, I can't say, that it strikes me in i that light,' said Jude. 'Fellow, you are insolent!' said Milton, passionately biting his lips, and clenohing his fists. . . 1 'Sir, you are complimentary,' replied 1 Jude. < Come, sir,' said Milton, throwing aside his cloak and drawing his sword, "I will 1 submit to no more of this insolence.' 1 'Does Claude Milton wear a sword ??and he calls himself one of the Holy Fathers 1' 1 said Jude. * ' 'Is it possible, that I am so well known !' exclaimed Milton, sheathing his sword, and 1 quailing before the fierce glance of Jude's 1 darkly flashing eyes. 'For heaven's sake 1 sir, who are you ?' 'One who fears no man ; be he priest or 1 pope!'replied Jude. 'Blasphemy!?what is your name ?' 'None of your business, Claude Milton.' ' 'But it is my business, sir; and by heavens ! I shall know it before you leave this 1 bouse, or one of us will be taken out by pall-fcearers!' said Milton stamping his feet 1 with rage. 'Indeed ??well, never mind about it now 1 ?how's the boy ?' 'Boy??wh-wh-what boy?' asked Milton, 'for God's sake tell me plainly what boy you allude to!' ?lhe one wnom ioiks take, ior dunus irViltoo,' replied Jude, smiling. . 1 <TV hat mean you to insinuate by that word, 1 take 1" asked Milton, growing pale with emotion, and clutching at the back of his chair : for support. 'Just exactly what you fear,' said Jude. 1 > 'What I fear ?' said Milton, suddenly re- 1 covering his self-control. 'Tut, man ! I fear nothing.' 1 'You ain't at all afraid of Edward D'Yilton, I suppose,' said Jude sneeringly. 'You forget, sir, that the gentleman of : whom you speak was lost at sea many years , ago,' said Milton. 'So the world says,' said Jude. 'Then, the world speaks the truth for once,' said Milton. 'I'm afraid not.' 'Wrhat??that Edward D'Vilwn is not dead ?' asked Milton, starting, and turning pale. 'W'ould you know him if you saw him ?' asked Jude. i 'Certainly; I would recognize him immediately,' said Milton. 'Well, 'spose I told you, that he was now ' under this very roof, and is none other than 1 Wentworth himself?.' 1 'Impossible !?and yet?merciful heaven ! now that you speak of it, I must confess that ' ?that?that?great God ! it cannot bo !' ex- I claimed Milton, rising from his seat and 1 walking rapidly to and fro. 1 'Did he not ask strange questions about ' the deserted house?' asked Jude. 'Most true !?I now see through his mo- 1 tives clearly.' 'And do you not remember how anxiously he asked after the health of young D'Vilton V said Jude. 'You are right!?strange, that I did not think of all this before !' said Milton, involuntarilv erasDin? the hilt of bis sword. i 'Come, Claude Milton,' said Jude, 'we 1 may manage to play out our little game yet, man.' i 'Our game!?what do you mean ?' said 1 Milton, looking wonderingly upon Jude. 'Well, you know, that we can very easily ' manage to palm off the young bastard as the 1 genuine Julius P' Yilton?' i 'Distraction !?how came you to know anything of this matter ??answer me, for ' heaven sake !' exclaimed Milton. ] 'Pshaw ! never mind how I have cortie by < this knowledge?I'm too wise to gab about it,' said Jude. i 'Who are you?' asked Milton. ' 'Well, I suppose I might as well tell you, t that my name is Jnde Sinister.' 'JudeSimstor!' exclaimed Milton,sinking < into a chair, 'did you not promise to remain in America ??thou thrice curecd villian !? ' Did I not give thee gold enough to make thee 1 rich ? Didst thou not swear, that thou didst see Edward D' Vilton go down beneath the ; waves of the Atlantic ? Hell-hound ! what brings thee here ?' 1 'Claude Milton, it is enough for you to i know, that I am the only man that can save t you from impending ruin,' said Jnde. 'I i. - T? A mAnrtTT . .a oil T7A11 1 UUUJU LU JLiUIUpC lui UJUUCJ ; uuu MH J W j have to do is to fork over a thousand pounds, t and keep your mouth shut. That, you will j find to be the best policy, Claude Milton.' i 'A thousand pounds !' exclaimed Milton. 'Yes, Milton ; that'll do for the present,' < said Jude. \ 'Villian !?but Jude, you shall have the money?you shall have it, Jude,' said the poor victim, with a deep groan. ( 'That's the lingo, my boy!' said Jude, slapping Milton upon the shoulder. 'We'll 1 see better days yet. d?-a it V, IBM Bill IMil 'But Jude,' said Milton,-'what will we do low, since D' Vil'ion has returned to the i jouhtry V 'Keep dark ! I'm not sure, that Edward D'Vilton and Wentworth are one and the lame; but just leiive him to me and I'll ind out all about him,' said Jude. 'Will you accompany us to the deserted rouse in the morning,' asked Milton. 'Of course I will. No danger of this ihild losing sight of you, Cluade Milton.'? A.nd, so saying, the viilian left the apartment with a laugh, that^rent to the very inmost soul of Claude .Milton, the wily Jesuit. Milton buried his face in the folds of his jloak and groaned aloud; then, suddenly it&rting to his feet, and clutching the hilt of his sword, he exclaimed aloud: 'Undone by the warmed viper!?the baseborn traitor 1?it must not be! Claude Milton 1 be thyself I' And thus saying, he lighted a candle, and hastily left the room. * * * * * * A TTToum Viwiryht on/3 J.U.U1 uiug uaiuo a TVSIUI^ wnguwj HUW beautiful moruiog. The Etorm had passed iwav, aDd the skies, which had been draped in clouds for days together, were now all 'darkly, deeply, beautifully blue.' The top o' the momin' to ye, gintlemen 1' said Barney, as he entered the breakfast room, where Milton, Wenl.worth and Jade, were making preparations for the day's travsl. 'It is to be hoped, that your early rising will do you no harm,' said Wentwortb, glancing at the clock, and smiling. 'Faith / said Barney, 'an' share its not to bed I went till near the morning} an' tired to death I was, entirely/ 'Well, well; make haute and eat your breakfast/ said Wentwortb, 'and you shall be provided with a horse, to accompany us is far as Monctown/ On condition, that he does not build a fire under him/ said the landlord, laughing. 'Och ! niver mention the likes o' that, if ye plaze, uncle Tom/ saicl Barney, coloring to the temples. The poor fellow is so much fatigued/ said Milton, 'that, I think it would be too much to require of him, to expect him to set out fcr Monctown until the afternoon.' 'An' be the whole night upon the road !' exclaimed Barney, upsetting his coffee, and turning over the castor-stand. 'Och! shure I'll be furthered again an' kilt entirely/ 'Well, suppose you postpone your departure until to-morrow/ suggested Jude. 'Gen tlemen/ said Wentworth, 'your concern for the comfort of this honest fellow is ' 1 J-t- 1 - 1...X 'a. 1 certainly very commenaaoie, dui it bo Happens, that I somehow fail to appreciate it as folly as I might be expected to do.' <1 re ast confess, gentlemen,' said the landlord, 'that I see no reason why Barney should not accompany Mr. Wentworth, since it is the pleasure of that gentleman, that he should do so.' 'But :he poor fellow is tired,' said Milton. 'And 'twould be cruel to expect him to ride fifty miles of suoh a bad road,' said Jude. 'Use your own tongue, Barney; and tell the gentlemen what you have concluded to do,' said the landlord. 'Be aisey wid ye, uncle Tom !' said Barney. 'Och! but this is the most illigant pace o' grouse, that I iver closed my mouth upon?by the powers o' mud, and Irish whiskay!' 'Answer my question, sir, this very instant,' said Wentworth; and let me know whether I shall order a horse for you or not.' Barney raised his head to reply, but meeting the fierce glance of Milton, he remained silent, and pulled nervously at his neoktie, as if considerably embarrassed. 'This smacks of mystery!' said Wentwortb, looking around the room uneasily. Then ?oing up to Milton, and looking him fall in ihe face, he said : 'You need not wait for me, sir?I shall not start for Monctown unlil to-morrow.' 'Harkye sir!' said the landlord, placing bis hand heavily upon Barney's shoulder, do you -know, that this worthy gentleman' ?pointing to Wentworth??has had the charges dVawn from his pistols since he came jnder this roof, and that I suspect that you ire the scotipdrel who dared to do it ?' Och! murther an' blazes ! do ye hear that sow !' exclaimed poor Barney, starting to bis feet, and gasping for breath. The strange manner in which you have icted this morning, only confirms my suspicions?.' What's this!' interrupted Jude, drawing bis pistols from his saddle-bags, and glancing ivonderingly upon the company. 'As I live! my charges have been drawn!' Aha! you double-dyed villian !' said the landlord, collaring Barney. <1 suppose, that pou intended to attack these gentlemen upon ,he road, aud .' 'Holy mother!' said Barney, struggling ffith the landlord, <1 niver saw the gintleman's pistols in me life!?Och ! bad luck ;o the night I cr.me to this divilish house!' Are you quits sure, that they were loaied ?' asked Wentworth, going up to Jude. 'Most certainly I am, sir,' replied Jude ; but I can scarcely believe that Barney could iave drawn the charges.' 'Have you examined your pistols, Mr. Milton ?' asked Wentworth. 'My pistols are Dot loaded, it seems; but irobably I may have neglected doing so,' eplied Milton, with assumed indifference, hrowing his sacldle-bags under the chair. 'Really, gentlemen,' said WeDtwortb, 'It ooks exceedingly strange to me, that Barley should have drawn the charges from six jistols last night, while we were all in the oom.' 'It is evident, that our pistols are not loaled,' saidJude; 'and I koow, that mine vere when I entered the house.' 'So were mine,' said Wentworth. 'I would not like to say whether mine were >r not,' said Milton. 'Search Barney,' said Judej 'and see if le is armed.' iiiilmmu ney,' 'do ye take me for a murthering thafe e o' the warld ?' < 'Aha! what have we here?' said th6 land* lord drawing a well-filled purse from poor 1 Barney's pooket, and holding it up before < the oompany. 'Pon me sowl,' said Barney, 'that's the i money the gintleman gave me, to take me to Ameriky.' 'What gentlemen ?' asked the landlord, 1 angrily. 'That same gintleman,' replied Barney, 1 pointing to Milton. i 'You miserable liar!' exclaimed Milton, < how dare you make suoh an assertion ? I missed- the money this very morning; but: thinking, that I might have lost it wh'le on the road. I did not deem it necessarv to mention the fact. It is plain, that yon have robbed me, you bare-faced villian !' Then turning to Wentworth, Jude and the landlord, he continued: 'You do not suppose it likely, gentlemen, that I would give the" fellow one hundred guineas, when, by so doing, I would leave nothing to pay my bills with.' 'Och ! ye forgit Mr. Milton, that ye gave me the purse, because I promised to say nothing about the divilish things I saw and heard at the old desarted house/ said Barney. 'That's a likely story I?as if /cared anything about what ^ay have transpired at the house of whic'i you speak 1' said the wily Claude Milton. 'This is too mtch !' said the landlord, moving towards the door. 'Here, Sawney ! John! Billy !?come here !' 'Bind this rascal/ continued the landlord, as the tbre^men came running into the room, 'and lock him up in the barn until I can notify the authorities of his tricks.' 'I'm an' honest ao' dacint man !' shouted Barney, striking right and left. 'I did not meddle wjth the pistols) an' the money is me own ! Don't touch me, ye spalpeens! or I'll be the death of ivry one o' ye!' 'See there !' said Jude, pointing to something protruding out of Barney's pocket.? 'As I live! it is a silver spoon !' Poor Barney was speechless, as the enraged landlord snatched a large silver spoon from his pocket, and shook it in bis face. 'See here!' said the landlord. ?I suppose, that this, too, was a present from some rttVior oantlaman '* 'Och! the divil knows how the bloody thiog got in me pocket/ said Barney trembling. 'Unfortunate wretch !' said Wentworth, compassionately. 'Ye may well say that, sir,' said poor Barney, sobbing like a mere girl. 'Divil a bit I care what becomes of a pair misfortunate crater like Barney 0' Flannagan; but Och ! it will break me owld mothers's heart to hear the likes o' her only son !' 'Take him away!' shouted the landlord. As the three men laid hold of Barney, Wentworth?pretending to bind the poor fellow's hands?whispered into his ear: '/ icill save you}' upon hearing which, Barney made no furthur resistance, and was quietly led away. As Barney left the room, Jude walked up towards Milton and whispered something in his ear, upon which both walked out upon the piazza. 'Did the fellow aotually rob you of one hundred guineas?' asked Jude. 'Did you not see the purse in his possession ?' replied Milton sullenly. 'True; but I was not asleep when you placed that .very purse in his hands as a bribe to secresy/ said Jude. 'What! 1 placed one hundred?' 'Come, Claude!' said Jude, slapping Milton familiarly upon bis shoulder, 'you know very well, that Barney is an honest fellow, and would not dream of robbing even a child.' 'Honest!?how comes it to pass then that the charges are drawn from our pistols ?? How came the silver spoon in the fellow's pocket ?' </ drew the charges, and I placed the spoon there,' replied Jude. 'But what motive oould have influenced you to act thus ?' asked Milton. 'The same that led you to accuse the poor fellow of theft, when you knew that he was innocent,' replied Jude. 'I see, that it is no manner of nse to attempt to deceive you, Jude; so I will candidly inform you why I have acted thus strangely,' said Milton. 'When I gave the money to the fellow I had no intention of charging him with its robbery; but when the landlord accused him of drawing the charges from Wentworth's pistols?when you swore that your pistols had been trifled with?when the spoon was found in the fellow's pocket?the temptation to aceuse him of stealing my purse was so irresistable that I yielded to it ?' 'I really do not understand you, Claude,' said Jude. 'To be plain, then, you are aware, that Barney's story about the 'Deserted House' would never do to be made public. Such a story, whether it be true or not, would create 1 considerable excitement; and would end in 1 subjecting the premises to a thorough search. Rr on/inoinnr Ttiirnow nf fchpfr, hp pnn hp nil ( the better persuaded to leave the country 1 for America before his adventures become rumored abroad. Had Wentworth succeed- 1 ed in persuading Barney to accompany him 1 to Monctown, there is no telling what may i have been the consequences to us in the long run.' i <It was because I thought as you do,' said 1 Jude, 'that I acted so important a part in < the farce. That simple fellow, Barney would : have done more to frustrate our plans than 1 you are aware of; and even now, if we do ] not keep an eye on him, he will make his 1 way back to Monctown and alarm the citi- ] zens before we cam arrange matters to our ] satisfaction.' 1 'Suppose we take him with us to the De- 1 serted House,' suggested Milton. , ] lecured Wentworth; bat ke must be atten- ' led to first,'replied Jade. " 1 < 'What possible ase woald it be to secare i SVentworth?'asked Milton, casting a look 1 )f suspicion upon Jade. 'Suppose that he is Edward D'Vilton,' i mid Jade. Milton shaddered. 1 'If be is, who can prevent him from ta- < king immediate possession of the 'Deserted i House?' asked Jude. 'Who can prevent bim from unravelling the mystery which has surrounded it for so many years ? Who can deny him the right to demand an explanation of the mvsterioas disam>earance of his wife ? Who dare .' Stop, Jude, I?I?distraction 1 What accursed fate has brought you back to England !' And so saying Milton wrapped his cloak about his tall form, and paced the piazza with rapid strides. 'Does Claude Milton's heart fail him ?' asked Jude, placing his huge hand upon Milton's shoulder. 'Hush !?somebody is coming !' said Milton, glancing towifrds the door. 'After some reflection I have 'concluded to accompany you, gentlemen, to Monotdwn,' said Wcntwortb, who at that moment appeared in the doorway. Jude and Milton exchaoged glances, as the latter smilingly replied : 'Your company will afford us much pleasure sir, and ftdd much to the anticipated enjoyment of the day.' 'Thanks !?I am ready to mount immediately,' said Wentworth. 'We had better start at once, as I purpose to stop for an hour or two at, what you have been pleased to call, the deserted house.' 'You are at liberty to do so, sir; but I have already given you my opinion about the propriety of entering another man's house,' said Milton with assumed indifference. . 'With all difference to your opihion, I have made up my mind to enter the house, "even if I am compelled to shatter every lock before I can do so?come, gentlemen !' Milton and Jude followed Wentworth in silence; and the trio were soon mounted and on their way to the 'Deserted House.' The party travelled nearly ten miles in perfect silence ; each man being busy with his own thoughts. Milton looked away back to the past, when the heart was comparitively pure; the visions of the future all bright and beautiful. Ambition aihd avarice alas! had plunged him into crime and villiany; but as it was only once, and years had gathered their dark folds over that terrible hour j :i _ j :4_ i /.^ _ ,i 1.1\ _ aua veuea iw ngrrors ^as ne inougntj 10 oblivion forever, be laid 'the flattering unctioo to his son],' that his ends had all been compassed, the prize obtained, and his oWn Safety and agrandizement secured. The skillful accomplice?the only man who could have been a swift witness against him?had been bribed with gold, aod sent afar off beyond the seas. Thirteen long ^ears had passed away?the dark, ivy-covered walls of the 'Deserted House' frowned upon the superstitious traveller as ever, but no whisper of suspicion had ever fallen upon the quick ear of the respected, reverenced and beloved Claude Milton. Now, (oh ! fearful reality!) the accomplice returns from the far-away land?the swift witness rides at his very side. He too, whose bones were thought to be cradled in the dark caverns of the Atlantic, rides before him in pride, power, and full manhood, leading the way to the theatre of action? the old 'Deserted House.' Imagine his thoughts.Tn/la'a fVs/\tir?V?4a wam kwon Qkuiaaa wuvio a yuvugiibo nciO uuojr lUU. uuau^Cj that he should have returned to England just at this time! Money was all his base heart craved?money at any price ! any sacrifice of principle !?and what amount could be not extort from Milton now ? what demands would he dare refuse? What amount could he not obtain from Wentworth ? Ha! he would play a 'trump' this time, and sweep the stakes into his own boeom?buy land in America?settle down somewhere and Kve like a prince. Such were his thoughts as he rode between Milton and Wentworth. We will not attempt to describe Wentworth's thoughts; neither, in fact, could we do so without divulging much which the reader should not know at this stage of our romance. The party had now reached the summit of a kill which commanded an extensive and beautiful view of the country around for many miles. Away off, towards the north, partly concealed by venerable oaks, loomed up the dark walls of the 'Deserted House' ?dreary, inauspicious, and colossal. 'As I live!' exclaimed Milton, standing in his stirrups, and pointing the butt of his whip in the direction of the old house, 'there is an open window!' 'Nnthinc sr> verv remarkable in that.' said "V o ? J : / rWentworth, handing a flask of wine to Milton. v 'But it is remarkable/ replied Milton, taking the flask with a trembling band. 'I have travelled this road as many times as there are hairs upon my head, yet never have I seen that window see there!' Milton made this exclamation, he suddenly reined in his horse, and pointed the lask towards the open window. 'There is some person at the window, or , my eyes deceive me!' said Jude, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and shading them ] ivith the other.' I 'What if there is?' said Wentworth indifferently. 'The house has been unoccu- , pied for so lcDg a time, that I do not wonder at finding it inhabited by persons, who ( ire perhaps too poor to live elsewhere. Go ( with me to Scotland or Ireland and I can ] point to hundreds of fine old dwellings which have been deserted by their owners and supposed to be haunted, by the vulgar and superstitious, with ghosts, hobgobblins and all i that kind of things. These houses are often taken possession of by the better informed peasantry, and made comfortable homes.' what sharply, 'that the house is go ied, in all its doors and windojrs, that qo baman being could enter it, except, by^fc: lwa?* Zr. *i , u :- ?- */ - ? 'Perhaps violence fas been resorted to,'. suggested Wentporth. , ...? ^ 'My dear sir/ said Milton, 'thereif net, for twenty miles around, a man, woman, -jsj obild, who would ao mooh as venture <PJ>*W that house, if it could possibly be avoided/ 'Do you, then, believe it even possit^ft that the figure at the window is other.than that of a human beine ?' asked Wentworth. <1 cannot answer that question?see I tty window closes!' n.r,; itW 'What in the devil's name can it be I' said Jade.. ; '* ? The same person that gave poor Buraoj such a fright/ said Wentworth, liughiog.G, Mr. Wentworth, I am nota sapemitious man, bat I ventare to assert, that you will find the house teoantless at our arrival/eaid Milton. 'There is suoh a mystery cooneoted with the history of that old building,-*Wt pne cannot help being influenced by aM many strange sights and sounds which aft continually seen and heard tbyre/ i ? Put spurs to yonr horses gentlemen 1?3 will solve that mystery, or die in the attempt!' said Wentworth, leading the way at a fall gallop, w pulton/ said Jade, as WeDtwortb's hone dashed past them, 'the game grows daspecate. Look sharp, for God's sake 1' and ap sayiDg the consc'ence-smitteu villian rode rapidly forward, followed by Milton, 5 *. An hoars' hard ride brought the foaming, smoking and panting bones before the dilapidated walls of the 'Deserted House/? No sigu of human footsteps appeared open the damp earth before the door?no sign ft 1 1!/. _?_?t 1 ?' * numan me was visieie aoout trie deserted yard?no sound of human voices came from within. All was wreck, ruin end silence. Every door was closed?no window mfrv creaked upon the rusty hinges; but, to all appearances,.neither door nor windoirbed been opened for many long years. ? ? 'This is indeed wonderful/ said Wentworth, after making repeated efforts to open the doors. 'Perhaps the hack door may be forced with your assistanoe/ Milton whispered something to Jade, after which, both followed Wentwortheronnd the hoase. . *1 certainly heard the soand of voioes within/ said Wentwprth, as Milton and Jade approached. ? A 'Impossible !' said Milton, placing bil ear to the key-hole, and growing deathly pale. 'Hark!' exclaimed Wentworth, staggering backwards, and drawing a pistol from his breast, 'some poor oreatnre is incarcerated within these walls, beyond all donbt!' 'For heaven's sake, sir! do not attempt e a. j ii m ifi. ?? ' 10 iurce iue uoor ; saia iuiitou. 'iNO Unman beiog could have uttered that terrible-scream. Hundreds bare beard it before,ancT-Mndead you must not en ter!' 'Must not ?) said Wentworth, placing the muzzle of his pistol to the key-bole, .'did. I not come here for that very purpose !' 'Stay, sir!' said Milton, striking,the.pistol from the hand of Wentworth. 'If .j^u are determined to enter, here is a key wbieh will open the door.' ^ ^ ^ 'Ha l?the key!?whence dune it, sir.?' said Wentworth, snatching it from MiltOI& band, and closely examining it. 'That key,' replied Milton <wa*-H*a?r!- tb-that is to say?I will inform you whep jp enter the house.' ^ lj( <By heaven's ! you certainly shfdCPt exclaimed Wentworth, patting the kejpin the door, and endeavoring to turn the holt. 'Accursed fool V whisjjered Jude to Stilton, 'that key will ruin as !' 'Ill manage it!' whispered Milton, as the rusty bolt was drawn' Back by Wentworth, and the door swung wide open. Walk in gentlemen !' said 'Wentworth stepping aside, pointing to the open door. Darn it! I woald not be the man 10 eater this old rookery for all the money in England !' said Jude, stepping back. Neither, would 1/ said Milton, hesitatingly. Follow me, then !' exclaimed Wentwortfi, walking boldly withio; bat he had no sooner done so, than he heard the door slam behind him and the rusty bolt grating into the lintel. He was a prisoner. Open the door!' shouted Wentworth^ but his voice re-echoed through the oM house with a startling emphasis, while the tramp of the horses in the distance told hhn that his companions were gone. 'What posssble motive can these men have in thus actiog towards me V was the first thought that occurred to Wentworth'smiod, as he groped about in 'the darkness. How came the key of the house in their possession ? Why their hesitation to enter, themselves ? Would they return at night to rob and murder him. These and such like thoughts took possession of his mind; and, after vainly endeavoring to force the door, be sat down to devise some means of deliverance from so terrible a prison-house. [TO BE CONTINUED.] J&* A farmer, whose son had been ostensibly learning in a popular academy, not beincr nprfopf.lv ftflt.iflfiprl with the Conduct of "& r J? _ ? young hopeful, recalled him from school, and placing him by the side of a cart, addressed him thus: 'Now, Joseph, here is a fork, there is a heap of manure and a cart; what do you call them in Latin ?' 'Forkibus, cartibus et manuribus/ said Joseph. 'Well, now,' said the old man, 'if you don't take that forkibus pretty quickibun, ind pitch that manuribus into that cartibus ['11 break your lazy backibus. Joseph went to workibus forthwithibus. Just as We Expected.?The story about Mrs. Bradley, of Warren, Ohio, having eight children at a birth, is a malicious hoax. Mr. and Mrs. Bradley have been married about six years, and have never had