he has come back; every one knows that he 
went away; we are quite safe.’ 
“ I did not speak; but she read my consent 
in my eyes, and we had no further time for 
parley, for even then we heard him stumbling 
down the steps to what proved his grave. 
The cellar door was a trap-door of solid oak, 
and was so heavy that it was difficult for one 
person to lift; hut lie managed it, and we 
heard him go down the stone steps. Then 
we flew across the hall and down into the 
basement, and just as lie was turning to come 
up again, we let the door fall, and barred 
and double barred it. He screamed and 
roared and beat the door all that night and 
the next day; but no one but us could hear, 
and our hearts and cars were both closed to 
liis cries of fear and agony. I went often to 
the door and reminded him of our baby; I 
told him we were going to starve him to 
death, and I laughed scornfully at all his 
promises and entreaties. In a few days all 
was quiet, but neither Papkta nor 1 ever 
entered the place again for years. 
“ Before we left the house, we ventured in 
and lifted what remained of the decaying 
skeleton and burled it in ihe corner where 
we found it lying. My father never came 
hack again. He was killed in a fight near 
Panama, and his ship sunk. Mr. Whitmore 
delivered up to me my father’s will and 
money, but though I am sure no one sus¬ 
pected us of murder, everybody looked cold¬ 
ly on ns, and the meanest of our acquaint¬ 
ances shrank from us. We bore the sights 
and sounds in that wretched house ns long 
as it was possible; hut at last even Papkta, 
(who had at first dared and defied them,) 
shrunk from any longer struggle, and we re¬ 
moved to the little place from which Col. 
Ratcliffe brought me here. That is all,” 
she said, wearily; “my life has been so ut¬ 
terly miserable that the sooner you take it 
from me the happier I shall be.” 
It was of course impossible to keep this 
terrible tragedy any longer a secret. Vast, 
crowds were gathered round the house while 
the authorities sought for the evidences of 
the double murder. Some remains of Pks- 
cnrni were still left; and on opening the 
window seat described, the body of a little 
child was distinctly visible. But ns soon as 
the air was admitted it crumbled away to a 
handful or two of brown dust. 
Both of the women were tried, and Pape- 
ta was hung. Maria Hare was sentenced 
to perpetual imprisonment, but she soon fell 
Into an imbecile state in w hich, fortunately, 
she lost all remembrance of her crimes and 
sorrows. 
My friend Col. Ratcliffe was compelled 
to at once abandon the house; no servants 
could be persuaded to stay, and even Mrs. 
Ratcliffe refused to sleep another night in 
it. I received orders to make what disposi¬ 
tion 1 thought best of the property, hut on 
no account to rent it as a dwelling house. 
The place stood unoccupied for years, until 
finally the town had grown up to the very 
walls of the great, green gardens. Then I 
persuaded the city to buy the land, raze the 
house to its very foundation stones, and im¬ 
prove and extend the grounds as a place of 
public recreation. A large fountain and ar¬ 
tificial pond covers the site of the old build¬ 
ing; merry children shout and play through 
the long silent walks; lovers exchange vows, 
and old age rests under tire shade of the fa¬ 
mous Linden bowers, most of them ignorant 
of the crime and suffering once shut up with¬ 
in those walls. 
loved him. Only the same old story, gen¬ 
tlemen. I loved him, and a few months 
after he went away gave birth to a hoy— 
bis child. The only innocent, happy hours 
I have ever known, the only glimpse of a 
pure womanly life I have ever had, was in 
nursing and playing with this child in a 
large room at the top of the house where I 
hid him; for no one but Pafeta knew of 
his existence. In this way two years passed, 
and still my father did not come. The little 
fellow now called me “ Mother.” He could 
run after my footsteps and he slept in my 
breast. Sometimes I stole clown into the 
garden with him, and when Papkta was 
in a good humor she let him eat with me 
and stay all day at my side. Then, again, 
she would shut him op all alone, and his 
wailings of fear and loneliness nearly broke 
my heart, and made me humble myself in 
the dust to thi9 wretch, who held my baby's 
life in her hand. But soon after this we got 
a letter, saying that my r father was coming 
home, and Papeta began to hint dark and 
fearful things about the child. She declared 
he must be got out of the way, and called 
herself a fool for not having clone, it at the 
first, when it would have been easy enough. 
What days of fear and misery I spent! and 
I fancied even the child knew the terrible 
fate approaching him, for he was still and 
quiet, and clung more closely to me. 
“In the midst of a quarrel about him, my 
father came home, and I had hardly time to 
run up-stairs and hide my treasure. All 
that night I sat up and held him on my 
knee; but no one disturbed us, and Pes- 
chiri was to arrive the next day. Surely, 
he would do something to save his own 
child, Alas! his short-lived passion for me 
was all gone, ancl the boy was an obstacle 
to be removed at any cost. 
“ Why, Marie," he said, “ if your father 
knew of his existence, not only would all 
my chances of promotion be gone, but my 
life itself would not be wortli an hour’s pur¬ 
chase as soon as we were on the high sens 
again.’ 
“ Papeta had reasons equally selfish and 
cruel. For several nights after this I sat 
and watched my child, feeling neither weari¬ 
ness nor sleep; but at length, utterly broken 
down by mental exhaustion and physical 
weakness, I fell Into a kind of lethargy. 
Now pity me, if you can; during it they 
took my darling from me, and murdered 
him. Ilis own father brought him to me 
with the cruel gash across his white throat, 
and ordered me to put him into a recess of 
one of the windows, which was boarded in 
and closed on the top with a lid, thus ma¬ 
king at once a seat and a trunk. I took the 
dear little form In my arms. 1 could not 
weep; I have never wept since. Then I 
put ii pillow at the bottom of the box, and 
tenderly laid him on it. After lids, they 
nailed the lid down tight, and all I loved 
was hid from my sight forever. Bend now, 
and see whether I tell the truth or not. 
“ Why should 1 speak of my grief and 
hatred and revenge? I got the latter. Yes, 
I got my revenge, and it was sweet! It 
came in this way :—My father soon went to 
Liverpool, but left Peschiri to attend to the 
building of a ship of which he was to have 
the command, and which was to he ready 
sometime in October. We had his company 
all summer, and after my father's departure 
his behavior became intolerable. Often he 
beat me cruelly, and his arrogance and t.\ 
runny to Papeta were fast rousing in her 
heart the bitterest hatred. I was glad of 
this, for I could do nothing against him un¬ 
less Papeta joined me. When life ship was 
finished he took her to Liverpool, and we 
hoped that we were at last rid of a presence 
which had made our house, fbr months, an 
earthly hell. But as his fate would have it, 
he forgot some papers of the greatest im¬ 
portance, and had to return for them. He 
came by coach, and arrived lute at night, 
when both Papeta and 1 were in bed. The 
necessary delay in admitting him aggravated 
his evil temper into fury. lie cursed and 
swore, and as was now quite usual with 
him, struck and kicked me without mercy. 
When he had eaten and drank, he ordered 
Papkta to go down to the wine cellar for 
more liquor. She was in an ugly temper, 
too, and she refused in a very sulky manner, 
saying‘That he had drank too much al¬ 
ready.’ Then he went a step further than 
he ever dared before— be struck her. If you 
could have seen Papf.ta’s face then, you 
would know how nearly a devil a bad 
woman can become, even in this world. 
She did not speak to him, but she called me 
into the kitchen. 
" * Have you the heart,’ she demanded, ‘ to 
take your reveuge on that wolf who cut your 
baby's throat?’ ‘Show me how to do it,’ I 
replied, ‘ and 1 will cut his throat from ear 
to ear.’ 
“‘We can do better than that, Maria. 
He won’t do without liquor; he will go him¬ 
self for it, and when he is in the cellar we 
will fasten him in; if he scream his throat 
open, no one can hour him. No one knows 
“ Yes, 1 saw it.” That was all until we 
were safe in his dressing-room. Then we 
compared notes and found our experience 
Imd been the same. In a little while we 
called up Harry and his mother, and ques¬ 
tioned him more particularly. The brave 
little fellow said he bad done what neither 
of us had ever thought of—“ prayed to the 
Lord Jesus to send it away.” 
This was about the 25th of May. The 
affair was kept from the servants and the 
other children; and some excuse made for 
altering Harry’s sleeping room; but we, 
who were in the secret, watched in anxious 
fear day after day lor some new develop¬ 
ment. Nothing further happened until the 
19th of October, when about ten o’clock at 
night, while llie family were sitting at supper, 
a cry so savage, so fearful, so despairing, rung 
through the house that every one, master, 
children, and servants, sprang to their feet 
It was impossible to locate this cry, though 
the general impression was that it came from 
the wine cellar—a Bquare room in the very 
center of the building. Of course it was 
considerably below the surface, and was 
reached by a flight of atone steps perfectly 
dark. For a few days this cry was heard at 
irregular intervals, gradually growing weak¬ 
er and weaker until it ceased altogether. 
I thought now that the Colonel would 
sell the place; but he declared he had no 
such idea; and his wife was of bis opinion. 
“ The property," she said, “ was valuable, 
and they could not afford to throw thou¬ 
sands of pounds away to please any one, 
living or dead.” All winter the house was 
full of life and gayety, and nothing un¬ 
pleasant occurred, although even Harry’s 
room had frequently been occupied by 
visitors, who always declared they had slept 
well. Then we grsdually stopped talking 
and wondering about the subject, and the 
next move in this remarkable drama was 
made by agencies purely human and more 
easily understood. 
It was In the following spring, but I do 
not. remember the exact date, that Colonel 
Ratcliffe received by the hands of a little 
beggar boy a most singular note. It. was 
written, or rather scrawled, on tl® fly leaf 
of a hook, and earnestly entreated him to 
call on the writer, 4 Marla Hare,’ the fol¬ 
lowing morning, at ten o’clock. Marla 
Hare was the woman from whom he had 
bought Ills house; and, though very anxious 
for some information about the property, he 
did not relish a second visit to her. How¬ 
ever, having told me where he was going, in 
case of any foul play; he loaded his pocket 
pistols and kept the appointment, though 
not. without considerable repugnance and 
fear. lie found Miss Hark in greater terror 
than he was. Her first words were, “ Take 
me away from here; take me away, sir. I 
will tell you all.” 
“My dear madam,” said the Colonel, 
“ compose yourself; I will call a coach and 
take you to my house.” 
“ Oh, no!” she screamed; “ I can’t go 
there, and I can’t wait; Papeta will be 
back directly; we have not a moment to 
waste. Let us hurry, you see I am ready.” 
Bo, though her dress and appearance were 
both shabby and remarkable, the Colonel 
opened the door, and would have given her 
his arm but she would not touch it. “Do 
you know what 1 am?” she said iu a hurried 
reckless manner. “ Would you give your 
arm to a—murderess?” 
After this the Colonel did not speak, but 
as soon as possible culled a coach and put 
her in. “ Where do you wish to be driven, 
Miss Hare?” he then inquired, 
“ To the office of Mr. Moses, fou see I 
can enter no one’s house, much less yours.” 
When they entered my office, I cannot 
say that 1 was surprised. I had been ex¬ 
pecting her, I think. Any way, 1 took her 
into my private room to compose herself 
and arrange her thoughts, and I also in¬ 
stantly sent two policemen to her residence 
to arrest her servant Papeta. It was after¬ 
noon before I considered her calm and com¬ 
posed enough to make her statement. There 
weie present at the time Colonel Ratcliffe, 
the High Sheriff, the Coroner, and myself. 
I asked her first to tell us something about 
her youth, but she declined, saying— 
“ What can my youth matter to any one? 
It was wretched enough—a fit beginning 
for the years of misery it has brought forth. 
Such as it was, I spent it on some West In¬ 
dian island, with my father’s slaves and 
paramours. He had many children; but I 
was his only legitimate one, and when I 
reached the age of sixteen he brought me 
to this town, (which was his native place,) 
and bought that house for my residence. He 
told me I was to inherit most of his prop¬ 
erty, and ordered Papeta (whom he had 
brought with me) to treat me with respect 
and kindness—which she never did. Whit¬ 
more’s bank paid to us a certain sum of 
money every quarter, and my father re¬ 
turned at intervals and spent a few weeks at 
a time in his home. In one of these visits 
jjgienic Snficrrnratton 
HYGIENIC NOTES. 
Certain Cure lor Earache. 
A correspondent of the Western Rural 
says :—As soon as any soreness is felt in the 
ear, let. three or four drops of tincture of 
arnica be poured in, and the orifice filled 
with a little cotton to exclude the air, and in 
a short time the uneasiness is forgotten. If 
the arnica be not resorted to until there is 
actual pain, the cure may not be as speedy, 
but is just as certain, although it may be 
necessary to repeat the application. It is a 
sure preventive for gathering in the ear, 
which is the usual cause of earache. 
How to Trout a Mud Dor Bite. 
John Peters, Jackson Co., Iowa, writes: 
“ Take immediately, warm vinegar or tepid 
water, wash the wound clean therewith and 
then dry it, pour upon the wound, then, 
ten or twelve drops of muriatic acid. Min¬ 
eral acids destroy the poison of the saliva, 
by which means the evil effects of the latter 
are neutralized.” 
Hygienic Inquiries,—“An invalid' writes: 
“ Will some of the Umi ai. New-Yorker readers 
give a recipe for compounding a Sirup of roots 
and herbssuited to the case of one nffleted with 
torpid liver and great general debility? Also 
refer me to a reliable work on Botanic prac¬ 
tice adapted to family use?”—W. S. asks some 
one to tell how to make u blackberry cordial or 
sirup, to be used in cheeking dysentery.—F. B- 
P. W ants to know the most healthful summer 
drink— one that is refreshing aud palatable. 
FiTi 
■f ' j i • 
m 
■ V i 
Wjl “ | 
■ ^ V F*- 
