The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on January 7, 1891 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

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Algona, Iowa
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Wednesday, January 7, 1891
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TOE OTPMt DES MOINES, ALGONA, IOWA, i JANtTARY j, 1891. .WAVERLAND. tAl |' COMING LANDLOfibS, Bf SAftAS SIADIE BRIOHAM. Gopt/righicd, 1888. , toyd, this la Annie," said the fttttng ladyt shaking my hand with the freedom of old. She seemed just as frank HM happy as ever) only so much more handsome. It did me good to hear her fcheeiy Voice and sec her laughing face In tbe gloomy old room. "IS your pony at the gate, the same aj WMal?" I asked, remembering olden times, "Yes, Loyd, and I long as much as evei lot" a wild gallop over the inoor," she said, playfully. After lunch, which was served In my mother's" room, I went down to the stable, and finding my favorite horse there, I returned, saying. "Miss Annie, I -will accompany you home, if agreeable, and try the wild gallop you suggested." Thus We took up the old life just where It had broken off, when, at tho age of sixteen, we had parted. No embarrassment, no restraint, but glad companionship again, as in. childhood* 1 had not enough ambition to care to fix np the old place, but woulft roam about In an absent, thoughtless Way with my dogs and companions, or at Annie's side, as of old. I was just as exacting with her now as then, and she was just as patient with mr fretful moods i\» when she was a child. Uradually the old house took a different look. The old hall door swung open' without the aid of two or three servants. The windows too could lot in the sunlight,. lor shining panes of glass had taken the place of boards and rags. One evening coming homo I found the drawing-room door open. I entered, and what n sensation of pleasure camo over mo! The old moth-eaten t'urni- fcuro had boen cleaned and brightened, the tapestry had been through the sarno ordeal and was nswly arranged. Tho old neglected piano was open and 011 tho rack , wero several sht-uts of music. The room T had such a cosy, homelike appearance that I bounded away lo will my mother, that she might enjoy it with mo. Taking her ' in my arms I carried her down stairs and pl.-ip.cd her in one of tho easy chairs, then 1 wonl< back to the door to take a survey. While I stood then 1 silently enjoying the Bccne, Miss Everett stopped from the window seat, where .she had been concealed by the drapery, Baying: "Well, Sir Loyd, how do you like it?" "It is line! Wo owe you a thousand ^thanks for this pleasant surprise," I said, oing toward her, . but she turned away, dying: "I only let tho sunshine in," and left the oin. "What a strange girl she is," I said. "Hor active brain has planned and her busy hands have guided all this work." "Yes, she is a sir.-uigo girl," said my mother. "She has given me now lifo since _sho camo, bringing in tho sunshine, ns she says; not only into our rooms but into our hearts as well." "O, mamma, how came you down stairs?" asked Myrtle, as she came dancing into tho room. "How nice it ia! O, mnmmn, stay hero always!" It did seem like homo. A bright room and my mother's gentle presence! Then began n happy hum.', lifo. The evenings wore passed with music and pluosant conversation, and the dreary old house was "tuITof joy and sunshine. One evening not long after, as I entered my mother's room, Bho said: "What do you think, my sou, Miss Everett has asked permission to control the houseiiold?" "I think she can do it, mother, judging from what she has done. You gave her permission, I'm .sure." "Yes, but I told her she would soon tiro of it; that Lord VVuverland's servants wore hard to manage. She only laughed at my fours, saying it was like a diflicult problem that she was very much interested in. I believe she is int'-rosted, for Myrtle Js learning many useful things besides her studies. She is delighted with Miss Everett." When I left my mother I went to the drawing-room. It was still early, and the summer sun mado the room a pleasant one. As I went toward one of the window seats, I saw Miss Everett seated in it busy sowing. It annoyed me, and in a tone of vexation I said. "What right have you to sit working away all tho time, never taking any rest?" She raised her clear brown eyes to mine for a moment, as though asking what I meant, then said: "It is a case of necessity, Sir Loyd, as I find your sister's wardrobe in great disorder." "Well," I said, "you have no right to do that," pointing to the work that lay in her lap. She only shrugged her shoulders and wont on with the sewing. It mode mo more vexed to be, dulled in this manner by H .a.slight girl; and I commenced pacing the •"'floor, saying: "We aro n disgrace to our name, a disgrace to mankind! No one ever comes here without being imposed upon. Here you must be compelled to be seamstress for your pupil. But what a fool I anil What do you know about it?" The quick, keen glance she gave mo as I turned to leave the room said as plainly as words could say that she did know and care, .Her active life was a constant rebuke to my idle ono. 1 had never felt ths need of a purpose in life, and had followed a listless, thoughtless existence until her coming hud stirred a new impulse; but as yet 1 was not willing to follow it. One morning I was passing through the kitchen, when to my surpi-isu and astonishment I saw Miss Kverott with a big white apron on and u, bunch of keys at her side, giving directions to the servants for dinner. I was vexed. "Miss Everett," I said in no pleasant tono. "I thought that was the duty of tho housokeoperl" *• Making me a comic bow, she said, "I am tho only housekeeper this establishment bas at present." "Why, where is Mrs. Ingram?" I asked, amazed. "She has boon ou^ housekeeper ever since I can remember, and I thought phe was a fixture." "She loft a few days ago," said Misa Everett, coolly. "Loft?" I said, "why, she has not been paid for years." "Beg pardon, Sir Loyd, she has been paid. I paid her myself," said she archly. "Well, Miss Evcroit, iiow soon are you going to take charge of tho estate? That needs attention, next," I said, in an Impatient tone. Sue made me no anr-wer for a few moments, but stood tapping tho floor with her JUMe foot iu a nervous fashion; then, turning toward me with a thoughtful expression, she said: "Sir Loyd, "if I were you I would »o( et lay inheritance go to Confused rind hntnilated t left the room My Inheritancel 1 had hover thought of : as inine. tint Sometime, no doubt, : would belong to me. I sought the library there'1 begnit.to think, yes, actually think Here I was, rt young man, strong of Hm .and sound in mind, but thinking ani working wore things new in my life. Saw something for me to do. Here was vast estate. With tenants good and bud Men, women and children living in wau and degradation, that I might help to more prosperous existence. I went o«( over tho osfnto ftnd faun trouble and difficulties at every step. Th tenants were in rebellion at the high rents and the most bitter complaints were made Want and filth greeted me everywhere Could it be th.it I vma to blame for the tci rlble misery I smv? Clearly, some one wn grently tol)l-.-.;ii-: for hero were men, wo men and children living in hovels so smal and filthy that I would blush to put mj hoi-sos into t jii'in. Here tvere large fainUic living and paying exorbitant, rents lo those old hovels and a few acres of land while the constant fear that they would bi turned out'kept them in anxiety. All tho lime I was listening to tho cloa ringing words, "If I wore you I wotdd no let my inheritance go to wtistl" But what could I do? 1 went home dis couraged, though not without a purpose I had been [-.roused at last. I had some thing lo do in life. The dream of my child hood I would try to realize. I'rom tha 1 day to this, 1 'have tried to work for tlu good of the poor, despised, dowu-troddei people that we call tenants. CHAPTER IV.—THE IlKATtTLESS Going lininc one evening fitter a woari some day, J found tho house in imusutt' commotion. Tho servants were runnini, hero and thc-ix-, mid things were In dtsor der generally. On the stairs I. met Miss- Everett. Her eho'.'kM wore red, and hei eyes had a nov.- tiro in thorn. "What is i!,;" "Lord AVavcrland has come," sho answered in ti hunr.sc whisper, passing on. "Then you have seen him," 1 said, as Bho passed. Her looks betrayed feelings of deep indignation, as sho said: "Yes, he is in the drawing-room. Miss Stella Everett had seen my father, and from her manner, I know Hint ho hat' said something to oll'end her. He could say or do most anything. I wont to the drawing-room. There, seated in an easy chaii before the lire (it was a damp, cold day ii September), surrounded by his dogs, sat my father. His fine, manly form scorned as nroct as eve;, and his dark, curly hail had few threads of grey. As I opened tho door ho turned his faco toward me. It showed evidences ol dissipation. "This seems like home, but the little rninx that, rules hero has plenty of five, in her small body," ho remarked, without changing his position to greet me in an) way. "Sho lias courage to defend herself, a1 least," I replied, not very politely. "Ah! Ah! so it is my lady's governess instead of Annie Wren? I thought she was tho chosen one," said ho in derision. The dinner bell sounded. Lord Waverland left tho drawing-room to meet the friends he hud brought with him. When they wore seated at dinner Lord Wavor- land said. "It seems the fairy genie of the place has boon in the kitchen, too, for hero we have a well cooked meal decently served." There was now a merry party at AVaver- land. The ladies remained in their rooms when Lord Wavcrlnnd and his guests wore at homo; for they were a wild, reckless class and became very noisy under .the influence of their evening potations. How my heart rebelled against this! There could bo no pl.-aiant hours in tho drawing- room now enlivened with music, as had been our habiv. Miss Everett was cjuite n musician and .Annio and I would join her in singing, while my mother and Sir AVren enjoyed a quid game of whist. But now this rude, boisterous crowd of counts and braggarts that composed Lord Waver land's party had taken possession of the house. The sheriil', v.'iih his band of armed soldiers, was in constant demand, evicting tenants who wmild not or could nut pay -tho rent. That b;;:id of rough, roy.sti.-ring follows made themselves very familial about the phico. Many of tho tenants could not pay, and some of them were afraid of incurring the •.lisplcasuro of tho Land-League and dare not pay the rack-rent demanded by Lord AVaverluiid. J lo would not- lower his rents so when the warrant was read it was a severe struggle of eviction. Men wore sout out without work, or any means of saving their families from starvation. During the month that Lord AVaverland was at homo, as 1 afterward learned, more than two hundred families were mado homeless. Soino tenants were more afraid of eviction than of tho Land League and paid no rent. Ono tenant, Patrick O'Noil, who had a lar^;.- holding on my father's estate, paid his rent. A few days after I saw him ami lie had a handkerchief tied about his head. "What is the matter, Pat?" I asked. "Och, and it's a bad cold I have." "That will nover do, Pat. Let me sco your ours!" After some demurring I persuaded him to take off the kerchief, when, as I had been told, ho had lost bdth his ears. "How did it happen, Pat?" I asked, sorry for tho poor man. "You sco, the rule is, if ono pays tho rint that is too high, some ono is shore to foind it out; and tluMi yo's havo to pay tho pin- nlty. But wha: is a uion to do? Ho will be turnod out if ho does not pay and ho 'will lose his ears if ho does. I thought I had rather kwp my homo and loso my ears." "It's a bad : tato of affairs when a man must choose botwoen tho two," I said, feeling very much yriovod for tho poor tenant. "But," said Pat, "the worst was when our baby, that was sick at the time, d'ed. Not one of our fi-iends, not oven my father and mother, dur.il: CQJIIO to soe us. But for tho swato lady at the house, no ono would have como to wash and dross our dear dead baby." "Who did you say came?" tasked, for I conld not think of any one at AVaverluiid that would care for tho poor tenant's sorrow, "Why, the young lady in black." "Miss Everett?" I asked in astonishment. "Yes, she always knows when any of ns are in trouble, and comes to help us if she can." "Did no one come to help bury your Child?" "No one but tha priest. They dursont." "These things are hard to bear," I said, soliloquizing to myself, "Yez may well say so, sorr. I could stand my own parli of it. But one is not alone," said Pat, tears rolling down his rough face. "There's we wife and child- ers that are dearer to tne than my own life. I cannot sorr, beur the thought of seeing thtnt starving ann freezing by the ro'ndslde. I have gitCU up iny ears to savi thim. iJo you blanie ine, sorr?" "No, Pat," I said taking his hand in tnine. "You are a noble man to sacrlflci so much for your family. May you receive a just reward." Not long after iny Visit with Pat, Lord "Waverland gave a grand reception. The suite of rooms opening into each other •wern brilliantly lighted. My mother, as Bisted by Miss Everett,- came into the drawing-room to receive the guests. My mother had on a black velvet, dress trim nied with rich old'lace, and wore the fami ly diamonds. Miss Everett, also, dressed in black, but her only ornament were a few flowers. The guests were received and passed on to the hall. When Lord Waverland entered thi room with two or three of his companions he stood and gazed at my mother and Misi Everett a moment, then said. "Mon Dleul whom have wo hero?" mak ing a mocking bow to them. My mother did not quail beneath his scorntul look but remained calm. His scorn changed to admiration. "Why Lady Waverland, you are kidccc a beauty! Where did you got your fine toi let?" he asked, as ho stood carelessly lean ing against the broad mantel, looking a my mother and Miss ICvcrctt with bold ad miring eyes. "From my wardrobe, sir," said m mother, inspired with some o£ tho iude pendcnce of Miss Everett's courage. "Where is the infant?" asked Lord Waverland, as ho wont to my mother's side "I see her governess is hero!" "I came .to assist Lady Waverland, sir, 1 said Miss Everett, as she took a step nearer to my mother's side. Lord Waverland turned and \vulkec away, but it was evident that he had- been defeated in something which ho had intended. As he turned away I followed. He passed to the club room with his friends. As they entered tho door the count said: "Sho is a rare beauty when roused." "Yes, and she has given my lady some of her overbearing imlnre. But I'll bring her to time yet. See if I don't! This being cowed in my own house by a woman more than I will stand." But those wild, reckless fellows were quiet and well behaved throughout the evening. Tho old hall so long unused wna bright with light and fragrant as the summer air with llowcrs and verdure. The assembled guests were in a cheerful mood. The stringed instruments sent forth their sweet melodious strains that w,ake tho impulses no new life. With hurrying feel that longed to echo back the melody ol music, youths and maidens sought their places, swaying to and fro iu tho glad ecstacy of joy and tenderness. Sir Wren, with a beautiful lady cm his arm, formed part of tho brilliant throng. When the dance ended ho came to where I stood with Annie by my side. "My niece, Lady Irving," said Sir Wren ns ho presented tho lady. "I will leave her to your care," he said, politely, and walked away. Johnny O'Rork, a young man from a neighboring estate, came to claim his promised dance with Annie. Lady Irving begged to rest awhile; so wo returned to the drawing- room to join my mother and Miss Everett. After a little general conversation I ikod Lady Irving to play for us. She seated herself at the piano and gave us some grand music. While she was playing I watched Miss Everett's expressive face. Tho love of music was a passion with her, and when, as now, she heard jood music, it seemed to thrill her very soul. Soon Lady Irving was claimed as a partner, and was led back to the hall. I ivent to Miss Everett, who refused all partners and had remained by my moth- jr's side during the evening. But seeing aer deep emotion I said. "You seem charmed with music," "Yes, Sir Loyd, if I could always hear such sweet strains of music I could banish evil thoughts and be content. "Why, aro you ever troubled with uu- )lcasant thoughts?" I asked, "You al- Wfiys seem so happy!" "Yes, sir, I have temptations hard to overcome. 1 have often thought Uiat people were liko books. Some churm, others vex and annoy. I think Lady Irving vould always charm me," sho said, look- ng toward the hall whore youth and beau,y were making a most attractive scene. "Will you dance with me?" I asked, of- lering her my *.rm. "I have never danced any tiling but the iimplo country dances," she said, placing icr hand upon my arm. As we wore pass- ng through the crowd I hoard some one iay— "There sho is nowl Fine nlrs sho puts in for a governess! I wonder if she thinks .he can associate with gentlefolks because icr mistress is kind to her!" I looked at ny companion's face. The glad light had n«led from her eye; her lips trembled with i childish quiver. So self-reliant and linn, thought, yet so keenly sensitive. We urned to the conservatory, which was Bright with light and flowers. "You remain here, Miss Everett," I aid, "while I seek some refreshments for weirtt fioiina. Jrrotn every rooirt tne inmates In their alarm hn«t-ened to the hall It was bright from the light made by the burning stables. All round the house ant yard a throng of people crowding nnt1 shouting in great excitei.-.ent, were calling loudly for Lord AVaverland. The party left the billiard hall and Lore AVaverland sat cowered down in a cornel of the room, trembling with four. His fnce was haggard with a terrible dread. His conscience told him, but too truly, what this midnight visit meant. .Hoarse voice? thundered up from below, "Bring him out or we'll burn him out!" Every face In the room was white with terror. AVhnt could be done? Iwentti the window and threw open the sash; as 1 did so a ball came whijv/.ing aiul lodged in the window casing. I dodged, but there was no time to quail. The mon below were carrying largo torches of bhwing fagots. "AVhnt will you do if Lord AVavcrlaml answers yotir call?" 1 asked. "Make him promise to reduce our rent> and relievo our wants, or we'll show hin a big blaze!" replied a voice from the crowd, "Bring him out, or we'll burn him out!' again thundered up from the, desperate people, and they began throwing log.' against tho doors. Something must, bi done, for there was no way of escaping i'roin the house. AV", all went, to Lord \Va- verlund and urged and entreated him It go to the window. He sat glum and nindi. no reply to our pleadings. At last Miss Everett- wont to him ami said: "Sir, if you do not answer wo must all perish." He sal; for a moment: undecided, then rising, he took her by tin- hand and led her h Dm window. 1 mado a movement lo kcc;: her buck, but sho waved me oil' with a motion of. her hand. 1 followed them, ami when they reached tho open window, she called out in her clear sweet voice: "Hero is Lord Wfivt'rliind!' 1 Jn ,-i n incnt the hoarse cry changed to a triumphant shout, for the "Swato Lady!" For fome moments the cheering continued. When there wns a lull she called out again: "Lord \\ r nvc')-l/ind will speak to yon!" "AVhat do you want?" he asked in a trembling voice. "AVe want our rent reduced, our homes restored and a promise of protection I' cri?it ii voice from below. "Come to me in the morning, and I will grunt you anything and everything, only spare us now!" ho said trembling, his teeth chattering as with an ague fit, "O, yes, ycK can plado for mercy now, but when we pled for our wives and child- ers whnl; mercy did yuz grant.?" called out a voice. The men gathered in a group and held u short consultation, then left the yard shouting, "Ireland n-nd liberty fin-over!" With a thankful heart 1 went, to Miss Everett, and tnkinglu-r hand I-saiil, "We owe you n debt of gratitude, my dear friend. But for you our home would havu been in ashes, and all of ns either murdered or burned alive." A shudder ran through her frame at the terribly thought, but she permitted me to still retain her hand. The guests all gathered around her ti; odor their thanks. Even Lord Wnveri.'im'l came to her, saying: "WJia-i/ nm 1 to do next, Miss Evcwlt? you seem to know." "Do as you have promised. ("Jive lho:'f men the justice (hey demand ol! you," she said, in a calm, clear tone, (hat addedfu; - ct to her words. "What! would you let those miserable wrctchus know that they have frightened me into submission:'" To be continued. As I left the conservatory I mot Lady Irving, and led her to Miss Everett. I oft them visiting like old «cqii,-iint;incos. Mioy talked of Dickons, Thackeray and icott. They seemed familiar with the vholo world of authors, and wore at home n each other's presence. When I returned vith icos and cuke they wore laughing and hatting liko old acquaintances. Far away in the night, when the dawn gau to break, the house was left alone. Viien tho last guest had departed, I found fiss Everett, uud said. "How did you liko your new book?" "O, you moan Lady Irving! Sho is do- ilghtl'iil! I wish sho could always bo my frieyd— She is a widow, and expects to snend a fo\v years traveling," said Miss Everett- with u suppressed sigh. "Why that weary sigh?" I asktd. "I was thinking how nice it would bo to be like Lady Irving," sho said, looking down and making a little impatient movement with her foot. "And travel?" sho said. "I long to see something of the treat world that I have read and neard so much about. Sometimes I long for wings to fly away from this weary plodding life. Nay, I am sick at heart to-night, and will not vex you with my discontent." '•You sod? Our sunlight hid behind a cloud?" I said, stepping toward her, and would have taken her hand, but she turned away, bidding me good-night. What was there in her clear brown eyes and low, K\voot voice that had such a charm for me? This question was often in ray thoughts. CHAPTER V.— MY NEW BESPONSIBILIT1ES. Due evening not long after the recop- tion, when Lord AVavciiand and his friends were, enjoying a game of billiards, a shout, wild and terrific, rang out upon the air. It tilled the house with a strange, The Gambler's Girl, In the shadow of the peak he stood with a weary look on his handsome face. Here il'old he used to meet Carita, here he liid played at love a whole summer hrough. On the day of parting he told ier of the bride that waited his coming in ,he city beyond. It was a terrible shock iu poor Ciiriiit, but without a bitter word ihe bade him God-speed. So he went away to seek his bride, and ihe returned to her wild mountain life. Butthe impression on Roy's heart was reater than he imagined. Carita's face vas ever fresh in his memory; he could not forget her, and so he broke with the atly to whom he was engaged and came jack to the mountains. As he stood at the old trysting-place he aw a tall hunter coming'toward him. "You are Handsome Roy, tho gamier'?" said the stranger. "lam." "Well, I huvp. come here to kill •ill you as you killed Carita." "1 killed Carita—Carita " "Oh, you didn't shoot her, as I •on. You just broke her heart with your air face—but 1 swore to shoot you when [ ookmy last look at her dead face " Her dead face!" The words grated ut from between his pallid lips, and laiuUome Roy reeled against the tree as f ho had been struck, and looked at his nemy with such mute inquiry in his agonized eyes that the hunter replied as if you- shall —little darling—T am not far—behitu Why did I not listen to my heart tha night in A—? t might hnve Known tha Cnrita's eyes cjuld only be in her face.' A low monn of pain, and the golden heai was low again, and the white lids fe over the' blue eyes that had forever Ips their brghtness. But still the low voic murmured brokenly: "She said sh would think of me in her grave. Ah Carita, do you know that 1 am lying- dying hero beside you? lam dying— 'ebbs tho [crimson life-blood fast'—Frai" used to rant something liko that, wonder if that could be called poeti justice? If Fred but knew of this—wha a grand thing "it; would bo for his nex play—grand tableau—the favored lover shot by. a jealous rival, dies on the grave of the beloved one—curtain falls to slow music. If (here is a God I wonder if hi will let me near Carita? Death hold the winning hand. I—Carita," A lie life in a low sigh left him. The pine, monn and sob, and the moon, which hai so often peeped mischievously into tha dark nook to watch tho tender love scenes there, draws back in terror and hides be hind a cloud, as her halo , rilvcry lighl gleams on tho white, upturned face lying on that little mound of dark earth. Even the winrl creeps ssftly and shudderingly by, and Carita is once more alone with lici lover, in the dewy darkness and silcntncss of the summer night. answering a spoken question. "Yes, she is dead. • She walked to A , to get one more look at your cursed face. Then she came homo again raging with fever, raved ami talked only of yon- curse you! Just before she died she mado ns promise to lay her hore, and " The husky voice grew tremulous and stopped. He pointed to a little mound that was behind Roy, who had not S3tm it in his rapid walk to the tree. Tho two men stood side by sido looking down on the earth that covered the form of the girl they both loved, Roy was ths flrst to speak. "You'd batter keep your oath and be quick about it, else I will take your revenge from you," "You take it pretty oool. Take out your pistol, man. I can't shoot you like a dog. You are to have as good a show for your life as I have." "All right. I'm ready." and he stood close to tho little grave. The hunter gave the word and they both fired at once, with this difference, ono revolver was aimed at the man's heart, the other was tired in the air. As the sound of the shots echoed on the frightened air, Roy fell with his head near the little mound. The hunter bent over him. "Dead! Well, he was true grit. But he fired in the air; he did not care fora chance to save himself. Poor fellow, he loved Carita after all. I'll leave him here till morning.'' And after looking down on the still form at hw feet a moinenb, he walked away into the woods. A long, long hour of silence, then the form near the mound moved, and, tbofair head was slightly raised, "kefI; fir dead. Ah! not much of a mistake, either. And Carita—already- dead— the kisses did not last her long. Ah, God! why did not some pitying angel whisper to her (bat I was coming? But TIIK PHANTOM UUIVUH. A HhoRtly Visitor Mint Stnrl-lcs and 1*117.7.108 uTcxiis Town. Groat cxcilcnient'previuls among-the poo pic living on the southwestern extremity or Melunney street, in Houston, Tex. over the nightly journey taken ihrougl that, portion of tho town by a pliant on iiirt, horse and driver. They say that a 2 o'clock the vehicle appears near the coiner of Hamilton, and, turning into Me Kinney, movi-s rapidly down it, into tin. open country, where it vanishes in plair view of the 'beholders. The more ignorant of the community arc frantic with terror over the apparition, which they say portends evil, and of which they seen powerless spectators, unable to stop or destroy. Even the more, intelligent citizens profess themselves at a loss to explain 01 ccount for the aupearance, which all have icon and followed, only to soe it, dissolve Ike a mirage. The thing has kept up for nearly two weeks, piir,-,uing its journey in spite ol obstacles, all (.mi pts to halt it, and even shots which have boon fired into it, bu iuve apparently produced not the slight- >st effect. The cart is a very ordinary looking ono, with two wheels and an elevated seat, the ior.sc. it small gray pony, moving as it lame in one foot, and very poor and miser- iblo in appearance, and the driver, a large man. dressed roughly in shirt and dark pants, with a large black hat slouched over his face, hiding it except for a long, straight mustache falling nearly to his >reast. Ho sits bent forward, whip in iiand, but never alters his position or even lurns his head. Thero is nothing special in his appearance nor his horse's nor his cart's, and die latter rumbles along with i good deal of noise, an:l unaccustomed •sound of.which, repeated afc such an un jsual hour, was the first means of calling ittention to tho mysterious journey it performs. Application wns recently riiii'lo o the authorities to place policemen along ts route, who were to forcibly detain the cart and its occupant and solve, if possible, n some natural manner the problem of its iharacter. '.Phis was grant-ed'^nd the street patrolled by Oflicer John Murry and six men for several nights. Murry gives the following account of his ittompt, to stop the sin-nee vehicle: "I iad stationed a man on every corner, and <ept myself a keen lookout on every side, or, to tell the truth, I was convinced hat some fraud or lark was being worked, as I did not believe in spookes. .'he r.ity clock had just struck 2 when I leu-rd the sound of horse's faet and the olting of a cart that needed axle grease nighty bud. 1 ran back and saw the man ,'hp had been stationed at Hu.milton street, rying to catch up with the cart. ' stop>ed him and asked him where it had coue rom, when he told me that while he was taring direclly clown tho street, without vurning, ho saw the cart moving where a lomcnt before there was nothing. The lectric light was only about forty feet way, and it was impossible for it to have pproached without his noticing it. 1 lew my whistle and the other mon came mining, when I directed them to stop tho ning, which was going slowly down IcKinrey street, into which it turned, lal Parker then ran on to c.itcii the arse's bridle. I was to cover tho river with my pistol, and Dick Tomlinson was to spring in the cart and see what it, carried. 1 saw Parker m ilco a snatch at the horse, ;inJ I called out ''II dt!" to th) in la, but the next moment Parker was down in the slreot, the curt going over him, and I fired a half dozon shots at the man who was driving, and who had never oven turned his head to look at me. Tho other men who had boen kept bade to help in if we had need were gathered rou-id Tomlinson, who was loaning on ono of them, so I went-, over to see what was the matter with Mai Parker. Ho was insensible and all drawi. up in a knot. "It took 'us nearly an hour to bring him to, and it wasn't till lato next day that ho couid do anything but shiver and cry when the subjccl, was mentioned, but ho finally told me that wnan he tried to lay his hand ou that ghost horse something caught his arm with a grip like » hand of ice. and (lung him to tho ground, when he know no mire till he found hinnelf at home. It is mighty hard to beliovo, for I know I sasv the cart run ovor him as he fell, but there ain't a mark on him to show that it did. Totnlinson SIVH that he had made ready to jump when he looked in and saw an oprm coffin sitting in the wagon and the white fauo of a dead m in lying in it. It scared him so that hi ain't out of bed yet. Ho said that a smell like twenty grave yards struck him nearly down'when he looked in that cart." Miijor Robinson, who lives on chi corner of McKinney and Willow, whmi interviewed on the subject, professed hiniaolf wholly at a loss to givo an opinion. "I am not a spiritualist," ho said, "or I could very easily explain the thing. At 'jrst I was amused by the furor it excited, then worried by the crowd that follow it every night, shooting at it, throwing bricks and even small hand grenades at it, and making the night hideous, and then I undertook to solve the mystery and rid the neighborhood of the nuisance. I went'out one night just b_efore the thing aoines along and tied a wire clothes-line right across the street, and then sat down to wait for the cart, thinKing it would a time going through, that wire. as 1 am a living man, sir, tha,tj devil's . kept on down the street, and when I went to look after my line I found it unbroken, though with my own 6yen t had seen the cart pass me." Last night the phantom was watched for by a crowd that lined the street for plocks, and who followed it until it va&- isned before their eyes in open country more than half a mile from a tree or house, but in the midst of all the hubbub ande** citement he produces the spectral driver never .for a moment hastens his tame horse or turns his head. WHAT Thero is much prejudice extant concerning Spanish cookery. Foreigners about to entor Spain are convinced they are going to be poisoned, and they shudder at the buro thought of Spanish oil and garlic. If, however, they ventured to give the subject a moment's sober reflection they would sit, once bo struck with the thought that in hotels ail over the peninsula the cooking must be French and not Spanish it all. To know what Spaniards eat and liow they eat is possible only to those rho liavo lived in the country and frequented them for years, un'css the traveler From the outset stray beyond all beaten :-racks. It is among the well-to-do, middle-class Spanish homes, writes a correspondent ot the Sun, that, all the real old customs and dishes arc to be found. These houses acencrally employ a female cook, who is assisted in her work liy one or more women. These helps attend her to market itid carry bur well-filled basket whenever hhoeo-einera is lop proud to do so herself, 1'Iarly every morning in thn Madrid horses these cooks may be seen with their baskets. They look merry and are neat and clean in their dark jackets, largo iprons and well-made drossus. Their hair, which is elaborately done up, is frequently the work of the coiffeur, who comes around every morning to arrange their head dross. The clatter of their tongues ind the running fire of the jokes they keep jp with the street-car conductors makes a lively scone of native entering, as few Families run up bills at the grocer and baker, and ths amount of loaves that is daily consumed in a Spanish household is wonderful. It is thn only commodity nought to the house twice and sometimes ;hren times a day, as Spaniards never oat stale broad. Madame, tho cook, hands in her account every evening to the family. Though', as a rule, Spaniards are not rly risers, thoy begin the day with the dcsayuno, as they call the meal. Tflis usually consists in a large cup of milk and coffee or a small cup of thick chocolate, with a kind of cako called cnsaimada. jhocolato is made with milk, never with water, except, in the poorest families. Between 1 and 2 p. m. old-fashioned Spanish folks have their dinner. The able is very simply laid with a clean cloth and several plates of sweets and 'ruit, (lowers seldom appear; salt-cellar, )oppor box and inustnrd pot never. A spoon, Cork and knife lumped together, a umblcr for water and u small wine glass ire set at each place. A Spaniard never commits thehoiesyol: mixing-wine and vater; ho says it is "spoiling two good hings." A' goodly sized loaf of bread Links each plate. The man servant, if here be such a personage, waits at table, itherwise the maid, with a neat, white ipron, performs that office. The soup tureen is first handed round, ind if its contents are a trifle greasy noth- ug can be more nourishing._ It is coin- )oundod of all the good things that go ;o make up the classical cocido or puehero. The substantial portion with which the oup is made is placed in three separate lishus and served up immediately after- vard, On one dish figure largo, thick ilices of boiled beef and pieces of fowl vithslices of bacon; on another appear he garbanzos or (thick peas and on the bird are tho vegetables, with slices of ihorixo or sausage. The cocido is usually laton as it is, in some houses with tomato anoe. The puehero or cocido takes its name roin the pewter pjfc in which it is slowly joilcd. In oveiy well-regulated home hroughout Spain the cociJo is made once , day, and a right good thing it is, as at ny hour you may chance to noed a cup of iroth you can by supplied with it. It is M-opared after tho following manner: The peivtor is filled with cold water. ,A loco of beef is then well washed to take ut tho blood and put into the puchero ith some ham or bacon, half a fowl and good-size:! cupful of garbanzos. These hick-peas mint have boen steeped in wa- or ovai 1 night. SiVcjral hours later the egofcablus are put to boil in (mother pot vith tho sausage or chorizo. Some add no vegetables and chori/o to the purch- 1-3 for a few minutes before tha latter is ikon out in order to flavor the broth, ho hroth is served up with rice, macaroni or soiws othur pa^te. The contents f the pnuhero aru> separated and carved y tho cook bet'ovo being put out on the iblo. The next dish is the frito. Frit? mflins fry, rind tho dish usually consists of riod brains, I'rioil sweetbreads, croquetes f fowl, etc. lit no cjufitry aro tilings led better than ia Spun, because good live oil is .isod to fry them in, and oil lakes thoso deli&icioi nnro crispy. 1 That punish oil may ba turnod to good aooounfc >r anything in c loking will no doubt xiise unb mii'lori surprise. Tlisre is no onyi'ig the Fact, however. Pood ill pre- d with oil is no doubt a trying case iso far tv* the pilate and nostrils are onoerrie 1, but, a gild Spanish eiolc Icuows ell how to disguise the taste of the oil i many ways. Tne simplesUuid perhap 10 best advice is to let the oil come to the oiling punt an-I to throw in a piece of bread, whiuli is ta'wu out ai som as it becomes brown ami thrown away. This tak j s off any b.yl taite the oil may have; tho pan is then carried to an open window and the sto.un blown away, a process which eff jutually clears it of any unsavory smell, I have soon foreigners eat with relish egg and potato ?s which they would scarcely behove had bpon prepared with oil thus treated. The fried croq'iuf.teii -served at a Spanish tablo are never m lie fro n the rain iim of tha previous diy's fovlorveal; fresh chicken, vnnl an I Ivun first boiled and thon hasued uo and dvinfcilv dreased and cookfl'l in milk are invariably used; when a Iwd o>nte is formed it is allowed to conl, rolled up in croquettes and Met' in oil. All roasted royals a| a So wish dinner are sery >'l bihre the fish. Wti9(ih,T er fovl, vsn\, j >inU or vJasiou, the niJOifc is aiw.iys done wall-ni jh to a cinder, 'iftPl most Spaniards would not think of touching out-if-tho-w iy nmt. Birring potatoes, Spmiards seliOai indulge ia vegetables other than those furnished, " h) pu iii'j. EAT. */' -fl -Nr,K,,ihV, a i-,n m ? p ''r K?i i Pr^SftllD, tUMBl'M « th« Hnl- i far IIPF gear,

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