302 
THE 
MAY 42 
Robert In his great chair. A shlek came from the 
young man’s Ups. He seemed to hear It fading 
away Into unfathomable distance. The cold 
touch penetrated Into his very bouI. 
“ Do you try spells upon me, Ltndoros? That Is 
a tool of the past. You shall have something bet¬ 
ter to work with. And are you so Rare of whom 
you call upon ? If there is such a One, why should 
He help you who never called on Him before? ” 
Llndores could not tell If those words were 
spoken. It was a communication rapid as the 
thoughts in the mind, and ho felt as if something 
answered that was not all himself He seemed to 
stand passive and hear the argument: “ Does Hod 
reckon with a man In trouble, whether he has 
ever called ou Him before? I call now.” Now he 
felt It was himself that said: “Go, evil spirit I 
Go, dead and cursed! Go, In the name of God 1 ” 
Ho felt himself flung violently against the wall. 
A faint laugh, stifled In the throat, and followed 
by a groan, rolled round the room; tho old cur¬ 
tains Beemod to open here and there, and flutter, 
as If with comings and goings. Uadores leaned 
will) his hack against the wall, and all his senses 
restored to him. He felt, blood trickle down his 
neck, and In this contact once more with the 
physical, his body, In Us madness of fright, grew 
manageable. 
For the first time he felt wholly master of him¬ 
self. Though the magician was standing In his 
place, a great, majestic, appalling Ugure, he did 
not shrink. “Liar!" he cried, in a voice that 
rang and echoed as ip natural air—“clinging to 
miserable Ufc like a worm—like a reptile; prom¬ 
ising all things, having nothing but this den, un- 
vlslted by the light of day. Is this your power, 
3 r our superiority to men who die? Is It for this 
you oppress a race and make a house unhappy ? 
I vow, in God's name, your reign is over! You 
and your secret shall last no more.” 
There was no reply. But Llndores felt, his ter¬ 
rible ancestor's eyes getting once more that mes¬ 
meric mastery over him which had already al¬ 
most overcome his powers. He must withdraw 
his own, or parish, lie hud a human honor of 
turning Ills back upon that watchful adversary; 
to face him seemed tho only safety; hut to face 
him was to be conquered, .slowly, with a pang 
Indescribable, he tore himself trom that ga/e; It 
seemed to drag his eyes out or their sockets, his 
heart out of Ids bosom. Resolutely, with the 
daring of desperation, he t urned round to the spot 
where he had entered—the spot where no door 
was—hearing already in anticipation the step 
after him—feeling the grip that would crush and 
smother his exhausted life—hut too desperate to 
care. 
How wonderful Is the blue dawning of the new 
day before the sun! not rosy-fingered, like that 
Aurora of the Greeks who comes later with all 
her wealth; but still, dreamy, wonderful, stealing 
out of the unseen, abashed by the solemnity of 
the new birth. When anxious watchers see that 
flrst, brightness come stealing upon the waiting 
skies, what mingled relief and renewal of misery 
Is In It! another long day to toll through—yet 
another sad night over! 
Lord Gowrlo sat among the dust and cobwebs, 
his lamp flaring idly In tho blue morning, lie 
had heard his son’s human voice, though nothing 
more; and he expected to have him brought out 
by Invisible hands, as had happened to himself, 
and left lying In a tong, deathly swoon outside 
the mystic door. This was how It hud happened 
to heir after heir, as told from father to son, one 
after another, as the secret came down. One or 
two bearers of the name of Llndores had never 
recovered; most, uf them had been saddened and 
subdued for life. Jlo remembered sadly the 
freshness of existence which had never come 
back to lilmsclf; the hopes that had never blos¬ 
somed again; the assurance with which never 
more he had been able to go about the world. 
And now Ids son would bo as himself—the glory 
gone out of his living—bis ambitions, his aspira¬ 
tions, wrecked, lie had not been endowed as his 
boy was—he had been a plain, honest man, and 
nothing more; but experience and life had given 
him wisdom enough to smile by times at the co¬ 
quetries of mind In which Llndores indulged. 
Were they all over now, those freaks of young In¬ 
telligence, those enthusiasms of the soul? The 
curse of tho house had come upon him—the mag¬ 
netism of that strange presence, ever living, ever 
watchful, present In nil the family history. His 
heart was sore tor his son; and yet along with 
this there was, a certain consolation to him in 
having henceforward ft partner In the secret- 
some one to whom he could talk of it as he had 
not been able to talk Blnce his own father died. 
Almost all the mental struggles which Gowrte 
had known had been connected with this mys¬ 
tery ; and he had been obliged to hide them In his 
bosom—to conceal them oven when they rent 
It In two. Now he had a partner in his 
trouble. This was what he was thinking as he 
sat through the night. How slowly the moments 
passed! He was not aware of the daylight coming 
In. After a while even thought got suspended In 
listening. Was not the time nearly over ? He 
rose and began to pace about the encumbered 
space, which was but a step or two In extent. 
There was an old cupboard in the wall, In which 
there were restoratives—pungent essences and 
cordials, and fresh water which he had himself 
brought—everything was readypresently the 
ghastly body of his \yoy, halt dead, would be 
thrust forth Into his care. 
But this was not how It happened. While he 
waited, so Intent thftt his whole frame seemed to 
be capable of hearing, he heard the closing or the 
door, boldly shut with a sound that rose In muf¬ 
fled echoes through the house, and Llndores him¬ 
self appeared, ghastly Indeed as a dead man, but 
walking upright and firmly, the lines of his race 
£ _ 
RURAL WE W-YORKER. 
drawn and his eyes staring. Lord Gowrte uttered 
a cry. He was more alarmed by this unexpected 
return than by the helpless prostration of the 
swoon which he had expected. ITe recoiled from 
his own son a a It he too had been a spirit. “ Lln¬ 
dores!” he cried. Was It Llndores or someone 
else In his place7 The boy seemed as If he did 
not see him. He went straight forward to where 
the water stood on the dusty tabic and took a 
great draught, then turned to the door. “ Lln¬ 
dores said his father, In miserable anxiety, 
“don’t, you know me?” Even then the young 
man only half-looked at him, and put out a hand 
almost as cold as the hand that had clutched him 
In the secret chamber; a faint smile came upon 
his face. “Don’t stay here,” he whispered; 
“cornel corn©!" 
lord Oowrle drew his Bon’s arm within tils own, 
and folt the thrill through and through him of 
nerves strained beyond mortal strength. He 
could scarcely keep up with him as he stalked 
along the corridor to his room, stumbling as ir he 
could not see, .yet. swift as an arrow, tv hen they 
rouebed bis room he turned and closed and 
locked the door, then laughed as be staggered to 
the bed. “ That will not keep him out, will It?” 
he said. 
“ Llndores,” said his father, “ J expected to And 
you unconscious. 1 am almost more frightened 
to nod you like this. I need not ask If you have 
seen him ”— 
“Oh, I have aeon him. The old liar! Father 
promise to expose him, to turn him out—promise 
u> clear out that uocursed old nest! It Is our own 
fault. Why have we left such a place shut out 
from the eye of day? Isn't there something In 
the Bible about those who do evil bating tho 
light?” 
“ Llndores, you don’t often quote the Bible.” 
“No, I suppose not; but there Is more truth In 
—many things than wc thought.” 
“Lie down,” said the anxious father. “Take 
some of this wlue—try to sleep.” 
“ Take It away; give me no more of that devil's 
drink. Talk to me—that’s better. Did you go 
through it all the same, poor papa ?—and hold me 
fast,. You are warm—you are honest!” he cried. 
He put forth his hands over Ills father’s, warming 
them wlt,h the contact. He put. his cheek, like a 
child, against his father’s ann. He gave a faint 
laugh, with the tears In his eyes. “ Warm and 
honest," he repeated. “Kind flesh and blood! 
and did you go through It all the same?” 
“My boy!" cried the father, feeling his heart 
glow and swell over t he son who had been parted 
from him for years by that development of young 
manhood and ripening Intellect which so often 
severs and loosens the ties of home. Lord Gowrlo 
hud fell that Llhdores half despised his simple 
mind and duller imagination; but this childlike 
clinging overcame him, and tears stood In his 
eyes. “ I fainted. I suppose. I never knew' how 
It ended. They made what, they liked of me. 
But you, my bravo boy, you came out of your 
own will.” 
Llndores shivered. “ I fled!” be said. “ No 
honor In that. I had not courage to face him 
longer. I will tell you by-and-by. But I want to 
know about you.”—[To be continued. 
- 
A snOKT time ago a lady residing at Clifton, 
England, having an Income of *26,000 a year, was 
so struck by the devotion of a younj; crossing 
sweeper to his mother that she proposed to him, 
placed him In the hands of a tutor for a couple of 
months, and whon he had been Intelligently ven¬ 
eered and polished, married him at Wells Cathe¬ 
dral. The qx pertinent was not a success, and the 
lady is now suing for a divorce. 
fitmuii Mlorli). 
RECENT LITERATURE. 
Irrigation tor the Farm, Garden and Orch¬ 
ard. -By Henry Stewart. (Cloth.—pp. 264.) 
New York: Orange Judd Company. 
For years we have urged the Importance of irri¬ 
gation, not only In regions of country where there 
was constant and positive need or It In order to 
produce crops of any kind, but also hi localities 
where it. is seldom or never practiced. The need 
of more moisture than naturally falls In rains, In 
order to produce large crops, Is being folt more or 
less in all of the older States, as well as In the 
new. but how to obtalu It, or how best to apply It 
when obtained, are questions which have puzzled 
many a seeker alter such information. Mr, Stew¬ 
art’s work Is therefore quite opportune, and It Is 
to be hoped that, our farmers will not be slow to 
appreciate so valuable a contribution to the agri¬ 
cultural literature of the country. It Is a valu¬ 
able work upon a Very important subject, and no 
cultivator of tho soil can afford to be without the 
information given in this thoroughly practical 
and trustworthy treatise upon Irrigation. 
A Critical History of the late American 
War. By A. Mahan. New York : A. S. Barnes 
& Co. (Cloth—pp. 461.) 
This Interesting work is introduced by a pre¬ 
face from the pen of Lteut.-Gen. il. W. Smith, who 
Reems careful not to commit himself, thus permit¬ 
ting the Intelligent render to begin the book with¬ 
out prejudice. The doctor at the outset explains 
that he Is not a military man, but forthwith at¬ 
tacks his subject with all the vehemence and as¬ 
surance or an old campaigner. He doesn’t exactly 
shoulder his crutch and show how fields were 
won, but how they might, could and would have 
been, had the disposition of the troops and other 
minor details, (Including his own advice,) received 
that careful consideration the Importance of the 
subject demanded. The doctor’s style Is as con¬ 
vincing as the kick of t he persuasive mule, and 
has a somewhat similar effect. We imagine, how¬ 
ever, t here are military critics who will dispute 
some of bis positions st renuously. 
The Wine - Bibbers’ Tenipornnce Society. 
Cloth, pp. 76. Boston: Lee A Shepard. I’rlce, 
76 cents. 
This Is the temperance cause from another 
point of view. The writer, who puts Ills argu¬ 
ment In the colloquial form, makes the unlll-owner 
explain lfls ideas of temperance to the deacon, 
who Is one of the rampant radicals. It Is finally 
agreed to try tho now plan, which advocates tem¬ 
perance on a tolerant basts. The drunkard Is not 
to bo reviled any more than the sinner, and Is to 
be encouraged by a discussion of bot h sides of the 
question to he temperate, when finally It will be 
seen that, to abstain entirely from drink Is the 
only true method. This Is to be accomplished by 
forming societies on the plan or debating clubs. 
The Idea may be worth trying, and we would 
suggest that the book be read to those who have 
tried the barroom praying-band method without 
success. _ 
How to Comp Out.- By John Gould. (Cloth; 
12mo.—pp. 134.) Illustrated; price 75 cents. New 
York : Scribner, Armstrong * Co. 
Wk are very glad to see a growing desire on the 
part, of our people to make the acquaint a neb of 
nature by personal contact. The number of par¬ 
ties made up for living out, of doors, during sum¬ 
mer vacations, ta Increasing every year, and to 
such the book named above Ls almost Invaluable. 
It, contains not only the results of the author’s 
experience, but, sjich other Information as he has 
been able to gain Irom the failures and successes 
of others. Mr. Gould seems to know all about 
camping out, and has told It here. Whether you 
are going alone, with two or three, or a large 
party, carrying your own supplies or having a 
baggage wagon, you will need no further direc¬ 
tions. In short, the whole book is described In 
the title, for It. tells concisely and completely 
“ How to Camp Out.” 
A llnuil-llneU n( Fruit OnIturej being a Guide 
to the proper Cultivation and Muniigcun-nt of 
Fruit Trees. iidcI of Grapes and Email Fruits; 
with condensed descrlpiions or many of the best 
and most popular varieties. By Thomas Gbego. 
Fully UluKirutecl. ((doth : 12mo.-pp. 183.) Price 
75 ot*. New York : S. K. Well* it Co. 
The title, as given above, contains a full state¬ 
ment of what t his book is, and we might leave It 
without further notice, did we not feel It Incum¬ 
bent. on us to recommend it to the readers of the 
Rural, as presenting in u condensed form much 
valuable matter. There are books ou fruit cul¬ 
ture four times its size with one-lialf Us Informa¬ 
tion. While we might take issue with the author 
on some minor points, as a whole we cheerfully 
commend It to all who have oven one square rod 
of ground to cultivate. 
How »o Pniut.— By F.B. Gardner. (Cloth: small 
12mo.—pp. 126.) New York : 8. It, Wells A Co. ill. 
’1’his Ui tie manual, which has reached tlic 
eighth edition, contains Information by the aid 
of which any person of moderate ingenuity can. 
with little practice, do plain and ornamental 
painting in a very satisfactory manner, and even 
professional decorators could find in It some ideas 
that would be of service to them. 
-- > 
COMING EVENTS. 
Petersons’ Dollar Series of Good Novels.— 
With a praiseworthy desire to cater to the wants 
of American readers la these tight times, Messrs. 
T. B. Peterson a Brothers, Philadelphia, have 
determined to issue a collection of the choicest 
works of Action at the low rate of one dollar a 
volume. This collection will be known as “Peter¬ 
sons’ Dollar Series ol Good Novels.” Each volume 
will be complete In itself, and will contain as 
much reading matter as is usually given in a two 
dollar book. Tho volumes will be uniformly bound 
In blue vellum, embossed with black and gold, 
and will present a rich aud attractive appearance. 
The Countess ot Blesslngton’s charming novel of 
•* Country Quarters” has been selected to Initiate 
the series. The Countess of Blesslngton was one 
of tho most brilliant and girted literary ladles 
London ever produced, she was the friend ana 
contemporary ot Lord Byron, Loigh Hunt, Percy 
B. Shelley, and the numerous coterie ot wits and 
literati which graced the British capital in the 
time ot that “ Adonis of fifty,” tho Prince Regent, 
afterwards George IV. Her praises were sung by 
all the poets of her day, and Lord Byron and Leigh 
Hunt were particularly charmed with her. Her 
charming “Country Quarters” will be eagerly 
welcomed by the reading public, at the cheap 
price and elegant, form In which the Messrs. Peter- 
terson have Issued It. “Country Quarters” makes 
&G0 large pages. 
The caustic critics of the London "Saturday 
Review ’’ have found something In American lite¬ 
rature at last which they can praise without qual¬ 
ification. It Is Whittaker's “ Life of General Cus¬ 
ter,” published by the Sheldons. The book ls pro¬ 
nounced by them to be eminently lively and read¬ 
able. The reviewer says“ Its descriptions of 
military movements are clear and graphic, and 
few of the multitude of military biographies to 
which the war has given rise can be read with so 
mueh pleasure.” 
- 4 -*-*^- 
BOOKS RECEIVED. 
Magazines for May: 
Atlantic, Scribner’s. St. Nicholas, Galaxy, Llp- 
plncott’s, Harper’s, Wide Awake. 
DREAM OF PILATE’S WIFE. 
The moon arose from silver bars of clouds. 
And shone n;>on the blue waves of the sea, 
And o'er the hills and vales of Palestine 
The night wind fanned full many a weary brow 
Whose aches and griefs sweet sl*en refused to seothe, 
And brought delicious coolness, ns it passed, 
To many a sleeper's face, where there was seen 
No trace of anxious thought or fell disease. 
There was a gorgeous palace by the sea, 
Wherein a chamber bold the downy couch 
On which the ruler’s wife lay wrapt in sleep. 
The bright stars, twinkling sileutly above. 
Were mirrored in the glassy sea; the night 
Seemed meet alone for dreams of happiness, 
Yet sighs and moans the sleeper’s rare betrayed, 
WhlJe on her face a gloomy sadness reigned. 
Just as the stars were fading from the sky, 
Awak'ning from her feverish dreams, she rose 
And with clasped bands beside the window knelt. 
Her white face upward to the aky « w turned, 
And many a sob broke in upon her prayer 
For safety from the terrors of the dream 
That had rome to her m the lonejy night. 
Thou as the dull, gray light of morning broke, 
She rose and called a messenger and said. 
“ Wo, say unto my lord, ’’ Have naught to do 
With that Just man , lor I have suffered much 
This night, in woetu] dreams, because of him. 
A long life-time in these dire visions passed; 
An angc.l bore me to the realms of air. 
And seated me upoii the fleecy clouds 
Whence could be seen the sluiub'ring world below. 
I gazed entranced on mountain, hill and sea, 
Until he turned bin sad, dark eyes to mine, 
And with a voice far sadder than his gaze; 
“ * Oh, sin-Hick, fallen world,' said ho,' 'ti« well 
The suffering io Gethscmanc is hid 
From mortal eyes. Ou yonder earth to-night 
A Man of Borrow* keeps his last sad watch. 
The Holy Son of OoiL 
For many days 
Tho multitude have listened to his voice 
Ou mountain Bide, and in the desert drear. 
His weary root among the homes of men 
The ways have trod, and those whose wasted hands 
His garments touched, e’en In the crowded streets, 
Were blessed with strength and lusty health once more, 
While at hm mild command the devils fled, 
And at Ills gentle touch the darkened eyes 
Beheld the free and glorious light of day. 
The deaf cars opened to his gracious call. 
The tempest wild upon the stormy sea 
Was hushed by hi* calm words of “ Peace, be still 
The weary sinner from his lips hath heard 
The blessed words of heav’nly pardon fall, 
E’en those who slept the last, long sleep of death 
By his command to life wore raised again. 
“ But now he is betrayed and scorned of men. 
And judged by those who soon must bow before 
His holy will, and hear the solemn words, 
* He came unto his own, and they received him not.’ ” 
The angel ceased, and lo! tho scene was changed; 
The sun shone brightly o’er Judea’s hill* 
But with a sick'iuug glare. The Sou of God 
Led forth to Calvary, upon the cross 
Wus hung, white Home’s fierce soldiers Jeered and 
swore 
And madd’ned Jew's reviled, and from afar 
Looked on and wept Jerusalem’s sad daughters. 
At last, with face upturned in agony. 
His trembling lips breathe forth the sad, sweet prayer, 
“ Forgive them. Father I” Then, tho stilly air 
His death-cry rent, and o'er the doomed land, 
While yet the sun was high, thick darkness felL 
Then all agaiu was changed- I stood before 
A dazzling throne and ail earth’s myriad tribes. 
And nations yet unknown, were gathered there, 
And from the lips of Him who sat thereon 
To many the sweet wurds, like music, fell, 
“ Come unto me, yc blessed of toy Father.” 
But as He turned to where I stood transfixed, 
tits fnce and voice filled all my sou) with dread. 
’* Ala9 ! I eurne unto mine own," said He, 
“ But they, mino own, received me Dot. .Depart." 
[Sabbath School Student. 
---- 
GOD FOR HIS PORTION. 
It Is observable in the court or kings and 
princes, that children and the ruder sort ot people 
are much taken with pictures and rich shows, and 
feed tbelr fancies with the sight ot rich hangings 
and One gay things; whereas, such as are great 
favorites at court pass by all those as things below 
thorn, not worthy of their notice; they have busi¬ 
ness with the King; they have the eye, the ear, 
the hand, and the heart of the king to take pleas¬ 
ure and delight in. So most men admire the poor 
low things of the world, and are much taken with 
them; but a man that hath God for his portion, 
will pass by all the gay and gallant things ot the 
world, for his business ls with bis God, and bis 
thoughts, and heart, and affections are all taken 
up with him. 
-♦♦♦- 
Troubled Christia n, bear up bravely, for what¬ 
ever hardships thou meetest with In the ways of 
God, shall only reach thy outward man; and 
under all these trials thou mayest have as high 
and sweet communion with Him as If thou hadst 
never known what hardships meant. 
such ls the corruption of our nature, that, pro¬ 
pound any divine good to it, it is entertained as 
Are by water; but propound any evil, and It ls 
like Are to straw. Did God leave men to act ac¬ 
cording to their natures, they would be all In¬ 
carnate devils, and this world a perfect heU. 
It was long since determined In the schools Shat 
penitents had more reason to be thankful than 
Innocents, sin giving an. advantage to mercy, to be 
doubly free in giving and In pardoning, and so the 
greater obligation ls left upon os to thanktulness 
Let those be thy choicest companions who have 
made Christ their chief companion. 
