The daily morning journal and courier., 1894-06-30

while his features were as impassive and restful as in sleep.
 When you are calm and reasonable say this evening. or in the morning I would be glad to see you again, un- til then. Newton. won't you oblige me.
 won't you oblige us all. by withdraw Ing from the house?"
 I went out into the sweet old streets of Oxford daZed ns one blinded from drink or a blow. Those were the las.
 words ever heard spoken by the man who had made my youthtide and ear iy manhood almost heaven, and, who, in day. had seemingly palsied my whole life. So as the train thundered on towards Waterloo station. past, present and future was like horrible dream, and as devoid of hope-saye for the one look of pitifui appeal In Robe mas white face. beside Lord Neville in his brougham-as the night outside my compartment window was rayless of light.
 | III.
 | Our sub-editor had regarded me with watchfulness and concern for a full week.
 Newton" he finally kindly said. you are not yourself. Your work has no go In 1t. One of three things Is certain. You are suffering mental syn cope after the excitement of your OK ford victories: you are really ill or you have been tilted. In either case you must have an entire change of environ- ment. Ghosts are just now coming on in the Saturday supplements and the reviews. Leave London at once. Set out for the north. Go as far as the Scottish border. if you like. Search out the most ancient parish churches, ru- incd castles and abbeys and old, desert- ed manor-houses. Find ghosts. You may give us from one to twenty spe- cials on ghosts. Treat the subject, In authentic instances only, scientifically. philosophically or humorously. See if you cannot really capture live ghost for us. Good luck and goodbye" This partly accounted for my being | so soon in the north of England; al- | though I must own that its contiguity | to Dumfries, to which city had alrea- | dy dispatched many unanswered let | ters and telegrams to Robena and her mother, was the more powerful, though half unconscious, motive leading me | on.
 Through all the length of England l had not found a single ghost. Here and there were vague hints and rumors of gbostly presences and haunted structures; but close research and in- vestigation caused all these village | wraiths to vanish into nothingness. My notebooks were filled with mass of rubbish; ghostly traces of the eva sive quarry sought.
 In this condition of defeat and dis couragement, found myself standing alone, one wild and fog-swept after | noon, with old John Prunskill, porter, on the windy station-platform of the lonely little hamlet of Kirkby Stephen, among the fells of eastern Westmore-- land over against the desolate moors of northwestern Yorkshire.
 After I had for a time listened to his eager chatter about Roman walls, Ro- man pottery and Roman eoin, for he is a strange, mellow compound of faithful old railway employe and rustic anti quarian, told him honestly of my lit erary quest and it's i'll success.
 "Brunskill," I concluded in burst of professional generosity and zeal, "a guinea for a ghost"
 "Wf1y, sir, yell find scoressof 'em on Stanemoor, if ye dare walk. 1t in tn grey O tn evening, sir. An if ye don't find 'em theer, jess step over into York cbira ua,J find ,apo it, opu hopco in dead op Bowes" g. .s...t
 "Thea I shall cross the moor and be with the ghosts of Bowes this night" I answered cheerily.
 "so ye will; so ye@wifl,,'if ye get theer at all, sir. But we're like t lose yer way in tn fog. Don't go tonight, sir. May be we can find ye ghost in old Kirkby Stephen, if we're mortal set on havin' one tonight Anyhow, we're like t be blown from tn road into tn rock-beds along tn passes. Bide ere till morn, sir!'' .
 I told him I was determined to go; for of all nights when ghosts were live- Hest, such an one as was coming on was most favorable; that if found , one on wild Stanemoore or in dead old Bowes, the promised guinea should surely be his; when he recalled ru- nor among the rustic folk round- about that only within the week anoth- CT ghost had come to the attention of the simple folk of Bowes. s-,
 "Its at tn oP Unicorn Inn," said John Brunskill reflectively and seriously; "an' they do say it's ghost o'a beau- tiful maiden as sometime met foul play. Tn op rat-trap's full O 'eln any, how. Ye can take yer pick, But I shall be right glad t see ye back safe 'ere, sir; guinea or no guinea. Keep t tn road, sir" he concluded anxiously Never leave it, or we're lost manw4
 Something ip old John Brunskill's | hint of the ghost of the beautiful mai den spurred me bravely on over, storm swept, fog pounded Stanemoor. Strangely, too, despite my efforts to reason ;t down, I saw in the face of ! this wrath of B Bowcs the one white face haunting every waking and sleeping hour of my life. plunged through the tempest with such marvellous elation l as I had never before known; almost l with the heart thrill of hastening to | my own!
 The wild, grand sweeps of country l usually visible from the peak of the mountain moor was denied; but at l last stood beside Rere Cross, unmo- tested by witch or warlock, and re- | called the meaning of the gray old relic | that had stood there so sturdily for more than eight hundred years.
 William the Conquerer, and Malcolm, King of Scotland, met here with their 1 armies to decide, by battle, the bpunda-