MAY 23 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
337 
A SERMON. 
“ Only a flower," the rich man said, 
When he trod it down in his careless walk; 
But his little daughter raised its head. 
And tenderly held the broken stalk. 
And from its place by the dusty way. 
She carried it home to her garden small. 
And set it where, from day to day. 
Sunlight and shadow would on It fall. 
It lived and thrived In the garden small, 
And when the autumn winds were chill. 
And the roses died tn the frosty air. 
The hardy wild flower blossomed still. 
The little maiden often smiled 
To see it bloom when the rose was dead 
And the father watching Ills happy child, 
This sermon short In the blossom read. 
Too often wo crush with our careless feet 
The flowers of love in our pnths that blow, 
And that, cherished, would open full and sweet 
When summer blossoms were lying low. 
[Amelia K. Daley. 
©ur ^torg-Ql^r. 
THE HAUNTED MILL. 
BY JOSIE KEEN. 
Durino the oold, blustering, autumn storms 
of 18—, Mr. Trowbridge one evening entered 
his sister's warm* cosy sitting-room. “This 
looks something like 1“ ho exclaimed, rubbing 
his hands and holding them out towards the 
lire. “ Sister Jennie, 1 must give you credit for 
being a sensible woman." 
“ What for, brother Will?” 
“ Why, for having a (lro lighted in the grate. 
It is storming terribly, and the air, for this sea¬ 
son of the year, Is as raw and chilly as possible." 
“ I half expectod, Wild, that you would drop 
In this evening, and I well know your predi¬ 
lection for a comfortable seat by the fireside. 
Besides, 1 like to soo the cheerful, open grate 
too well myself to merely use the furnace." 
“ It does, Indeed, have a cheerful appearance, 
and reminds me of the old-fashioned home 
fireplace wo gathered around In childhood. But 
where are the boys, and my pet Susie ?" 
“Just as you came in Susie went up stairs 
with the baby to have nurso put her to bod, and 
the hoys are out on an errand. It, Is full time, 
though, that they were back," said Mrs. Lee, 
going to the window and anxiously looking out. 
“Oh,how It storms! They will he drenched, 
and take cold, I'm afraid." 
“ Don’t worry, Jennie. The youngsters, I'm 
sure, only think it fun to he out in such a blus¬ 
tering storm. On coming in they will probably 
shake themselves like great Newfoundland 
dogs, and feel none the worse for their duck¬ 
ing.” 
As Mr. Trowbridge ceased speaking, merry 
voices were heard in the hall, and soon after 
three bright, intelligent looking children en¬ 
tered the sitting-room. They warmly greeted 
their uncle; then George, the oldest, turned 
to his mother and said : 
“ O, mamma, we have had such a time getting 
home I The wind blew so hard It turned our 
umbrellas inside out. And once It took Wide, 
who is not as big or stout as I am, right off his 
feet, so I thought ho was going up like a bal¬ 
loon." 
“ But I held on tight to my umbrella,” added 
Wile, “or that at least would have gone up 
sky high, and perhaps have paid a visit to the 
moon.” 
All laughed merrily over their amusing ad¬ 
ventures, and t lie odd appearance of the people 
they met hurrying along to he out of the storm. 
“How cornea It, though,” asked Mrs. Lee, 
“that you are not wet through ? 1 feared you 
would be like drowned rats." 
“ Why, mother dear, we came In the back way 
and took off our wet overcoats and soaked boots 
in the lower hall. Bridget then gave us dry 
stockings and slippers to put on before we ven¬ 
tured to appear in your presence." 
"That's right, George," said his uncle; 
“you cannot begin too oariy to show polite 
deference to your mother and sister. Let me 
also assure you, that hoys who grow up with 
thoughtful consideration for others, generally 
turn out much kinder and better men than 
those who are always rough and heedless. Mind 
too, boys, that we expect you to become pol¬ 
ished gentlemen.” 
George gave a serious nod, as though taking 
the subject, into conslderarton, while Willie, 
with a smile, and acting upon the suggestion, 
pushed a large, heavy arm-chair towards the 
most oomfortable corner of the hearth for his 
mother. 
“Well, Susie,” said George, “I suppose I 
must foil w Will’s example of gallantry and 
give you a chair by mother’s side.” 
“Thank you, brother George," said his sis¬ 
ter, with a sweet smile. 
“ Now, uncle,will you give us a place by your 
side and then tell us a story 
"What boys you are for stories! Do you 
think I'm made of stories?" 
“Not exactly, uncle Will; but there is no 
one quite equal to you In relating adventures." 
“Ah, Master George! where did you learn 
the policy of flattery? I suppose you think I 
cannot now resist your entreaties.” 
“Hardly, uncle," laughed George, tn reply. 
“But,boys, there are your mother and jester 
Susan to he considered. Perhaps a story may 
not be agreeablo to them." 
“ Mother, do you object ?" 
“No, my son; and Susie is as eager for a 
story from undo Will as you are.” 
“Yes, uncle, and l would like to have you tell 
us a ghost, story. The wind is moaning without 
and It is growing dusky within, so it is the very 
time to tell one.” 
“Well, Sue, since you choose the witching 
hour of twilight for a ghost story, I’ll try to 
gratify you. I’m not, though, much or a hand 
at telling such kind of stories ; In fact, can only 
relate one at second hand, and you may already 
have heard it." 
“<), no matter for that. If it is a good ghost 
story, it will do to repeat. And perhaps, after 
all, we may not have heard it.” 
“Then I’ll begin my story by saying, It has 
to do with an old mill which stood on the banks 
of a picturesque stream in a town which shall 
be nameless. It was rather a lonely spot, how¬ 
ever, and some distance from the village. Just 
back of the mill were dense woods of tall, dark 
pine trees, which gave the place a rather gloomy 
appearance after sunset. The miller’s house 
and barns were near by; hut, as lie employed 
several men to work In the mill and the quarry 
beyond, the upper story of the old mill w;ts 
occupied by Xiem for u sleeping room. One 
evening after dark. Instead of going to their 
usual quarters they entered their employer's 
kitchen. After sitting around awhile they de¬ 
clared they were not going to sleep In the mill 
that night, for thoy were sure It was haunted. 
“ 4 Wbnt a ridiculous Idea!’ said the miller, 
laughing, * I'm afraid you ail drank too much 
beer lost night, and so had the nightmare or 
bad dreams.” 
“‘It Is only Hans Kittkndofe who drinks 
much beer, and he slept like a top. But the 
rest of us were us wldo awake as you are this 
minute; and I declare wo heard ail sorts of 
queer sounds.’ 
“ 4 Indeed wo did!’ added Jamie McDonald, 
‘and It was a’thegcthor uncanny.’ 
“O, Jamie, I guess It whs nothing but the 
winds whistling among the pines, and with your 
Scotch superstition you conjured up a ghost.’ 
“‘Hoot, mou, wl* your Scotch superstition. 
I tell ye we were a' awake, and dinna kenned 
whnt the awfu' noise could mean.’ 
"‘Ocb, sure!' joined In Michael, ‘such a 
groaning and shrieking! Tndudo, yens never 
heerd the likes of it. The place is haunted, 
sure, and never a bit will Michael O'Toole go 
hack there to sleep.' 
“One and all had the same story to tell, and 
the miller could not persuade them to go to 
their beds. John Mahon, however, bravely 
declared that ho should not be seared by a 
ghost, so lie went back to the mill to sleep 
there alone, while the rest made themselves as 
comfortable ns they could In the barn. But one 
night, shortly after, John rushed into the mil¬ 
ler’s house, pale and trembling, to tell of the 
awful sounds he had hoard. So at last the 
ghost proved too much for him to endure. 
“The mill was finally deserted. Even the 
people in the village talked about the strange 
moans and unearthly groans and shrieks that 
came from there after twilight. They were 
sometimes heard In the mill, then above, ap¬ 
parently above the trees; then over In the 
quarry like an echo; then back again In the 
mill. So it went tin for weeks, but no one 
could account for or imagine the cause of such 
strange doings. If any one ventured to drive 
by after dark if was with fear and trembling, 
dilated eyes and suspended breath.” 
Mr, Trowbridge paused a moment and 
gravely shook Ids head. A breathless silence 
reigned around, and nil eyes were Intently 
fixed upon him as he resumed: -“John Mason, 
who had been ridiculed for his boasted bravery, 
determined to once more go hack, to the old 
mill and solve the mystery, if lie had to seize 
the evil spirit itself, which was making such a 
commotion there. So one night, with a lan¬ 
tern and strong club, lie took up hi.-i station on 
the ground floor. It was a late hour; all na¬ 
ture was hushed in silence, when ho heard the 
tread of light feet over Ids head, a sort of 
shriek, and then a moan, tils hair stood on 
end and ids limits trembled. He seemed glued 
to the spot, while another uml another of those 
horrible groans made the old mill Boom filled 
with evil spirits. 
" Finally John gained a little strength and 
courage. He tightly grasped his club; then, 
with his lantern, slowly crept towards the 
stairs. But, once more, on hearing strange 
sounds, his courage failed. What was he to 
do? ‘Bo a man. Jack Mason !'he muttered. 
Then tie very cautiously glided up the stairs 
and beheld—Oh, horrors 1" 
Susie, with a sldver, slipped her hand In her 
mother's, and Willie drew nearer to his 
uncle’s side; while George, scarce above a 
whisper, ami with a trembling voice, asked: 
“ What did he see, uncle ? Do tell us." 
“ Why, what do you suppose? An immense 
rat running round the rim of an old-fashioned 
spinning wheel, which had found its way 
among some things stored In the mill. It had 
not been oiled In many a day, and when the 
wheel weut over it, sounded up the stream like 
a screech ; when it was under it was a sort of 
groan, and was strangely echoed In the quarry. 
Then It seemed back again In tho mill. 
“ Seizing his club, John Mason felled tho rat 
with a single blow, and carried It in triumph to 
ids frightened companions as the ghost of the 
old mill. Thus the imaginary ghost was laid, 
and John regained the title of the bravest man 
among the crowd." 
“Nobody but a rat after all," laughed the 
children. 
“ That was all," replied their uncle. “ Like a 
groat many other things in this world which 
we magnify into something terrible, It proved 
but a trifle. Hats and mice are said to be very 
fond of music, and this troublesome old rat no 
doubt enjoyed tho discordant music ho made 
by running round tho spinning wheel. 
“ The storm has abated and I rnuBt go now. 
Good night.” 
“Good night, uncle, and thanks for your 
story of The Haunted Mill.” 
-- 
A WOMAN’S REVELATION. 
My husband came tenderly to my side. “ Are 
you going out this evening, love?" 
“ Of course l am." 
I looked down complacently at my dress of 
pink crape, dew-droppod-over with crystal, and 
the trails of pink azaleas that caught up its 
folds here and there. A diamond bracelet en¬ 
circled one round white arm, and a little cross 
blazed fitfully at my throat. I had never looked 
bettor, and I felt a sort of girlish pride as my 
eye met the fairy reflection in the mirror. 
“ Come, Gerald, make haste !—why you havn’t 
begun to dress yet!" 
Where were my wifely instincts that I did nut 
see the haggard, drawn look In Ida features— 
tho fevered light, in Ids eyes? 
“ 1 can't go to-night, Madeline- I am not. well 
enough.,' 
“You are never well enough to oblige me, 
Gerald. 1 am tired of being put off with such 
excusos," 
He made no answer, but dropped his head in 
his hand on the table before him. 
“ Oh, come,Gerald," I urged petulantly. “It 
1 b bo awkward for mo to go ulono, always.” 
He shook Ids head listlessly. 
“ I thought perhaps you would be willing to 
remain at home with me, Madeline." 
“ Mon are so selfish," 1 said plaintively, “ and 
I am all dressed. Claudia took hall an hour 
for my hair. I dare say you’ll be a groat deal 
quieter without mo-that Is, if you are deter¬ 
mined not to go. 
No answer again. 
“Well, If you choose to be sullen, 1 cannot 
help It," I suld lightly, us I turned and went 
out of the room, adjusting my silver bouquet 
holder, the tuberoses and heliotropes seeming 
to distill Incense at every motion. 
Was I heartless and cruel ? Had 1 ceased to 
love my husband? From the bottom of my 
heart I believed that I loved him as truly and 
tenderly as over wife did, but 1 had been so 
spoiled and potted all iny brief, selfish life that 
the better Instincts were, so to speak, entombed 
alive. 
I went to the party and had my fill of adula¬ 
tion and homage, as usual. Tho hours seemed 
to glide away, shod with roses and winged with 
music and rbh perfume; ..ml It was not until, 
wearied with dancing, I sought a momentary 
refuge In tho half-lighted tea-room, that I 
heard words awakening me, as it were, from a 
dream. “Gerald Cion?" I could not bo mis¬ 
taken In tho name—it was scarcely common 
place enough for that. They wore talking— 
two or three stout, business-like loo king gentle¬ 
men—In the hall without, and I could catch, 
now and then, a fugitive word or phrase. 
“Fine, enterprising young fellow! —great 
pity!—totally ruined, so Bees and McMorcken 
Say!—reckless extravagance of Ids wife?” 
All these vague fragments I heard, and then 
some one Bald — 
“And what is lie going to do now ?', 
“ What can he do! I am sorry; yet ho should 
have calculated his Income and his expenses 
better. “ Or his wife should. Douce take these 
women—they are at the bottom of all a man’s 
troubles 1" 
And they laughed! Oh, how could thoy? I 
had yet to loam how eusy It 1 b In this world to 
bear other peoples troubles. 
1 rose hurriedly up, with my heart beating 
tumultuously beneath the pink azaleas, and 
went back to the lighted corridors. Albany 
Moore was waiting to claim my hand for the 
next redowa. 
“ Are you ill, Mrs. Clen ? How pale you look!” 
“I—I am not very well. I wish you would 
have my carriage oallod, Mr. Moore." For now 
I felt that home was the place for me. 
Hurried by some unaccountable impulse, I 
sprang out the moment the carriage wheels 
touched tho curbstone, and rushed up to my 
husband’s room. The door was locked, but I 
could seo a light shining under the threshold. 
I knocked wildly and persistently. 
“Gerald! Gerald ! For heaven’s sake let me 
In!" 
Something fell on the marble hearthstone 
within, making a metalic clink, and my hus¬ 
band opened the door a little way. I had never 
seen him look so pale before or so rigid yet so 
determined. 
“ Who are you ?" he demanded wildly. “Why 
can’t you leave mo in peace?" 
“It’s I Gerald—your Madelino — your own 
little wife.” 
And I caught from his hand the pistol he was 
striving to conceal In his breast—its mate lay 
on the marble hearth under the mantle—and 
Hung it out of tho window'. 
“Gerald, would you have left mo?” 
“ I would have escaped!” ho cried, still half 
delirious to all appearance. “ Debt disgrace 
—misery — her reproaches—I would have es¬ 
caped them all I" 
His head fell like that of a wearied child on 
my shoulder. I drew him gently to u sofa, and 
soothed him with a thousand murmured words 
a tbousapd mqte caresses; for had Jt pot be^n 
