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

along for what seened hours. my feet suddenly struck eobble-stones.
 Dead old Bowes at'iasti
 No human being ever so loved to be in Bowes before. But where was the hamlet. after aii7 No light from cans de gleamed from window within it. Here and there along the zig-zag street q faint glimmer flushed against some tiny panes, Peering within. old and palsied erones. bent and trembling. were here and there seen erouching over fiickering embers or meager fires.
 Drenched from rotten tiatches, star tied by the storm lashed trees, and now thoroughly frightened from the pros- pect of no resting place for the night, l felt my way along what seemed 10 be the street-facade of some large struc- ture. and, coming 10 it's corner. shrunk along this, where l halted for n little. well out of the full power of the in- creasing tempest.
 Scarcely had sufficient time elapsed to permit my getting my back against the building before there was an alarming splattering rush in the dark ness. My legs escaped the fury of the object making it but with return att tack the ample tails of my storm-coat were gathered In sort of voiceless vice which only death or q masters command can loosen. Few were the snufiies and snortings caused by the working of the four-legged mechan- ism. Its forces were exclusively devo- ted to effort, That effort was certain ly one of bringing n prize into port
 Necessarily yielding without protest to the spirit of the occasion, I moved with its movements and tackled with its tackings. In a zigzag attitude of gentle though inexpensive inquiry. was brought, now sidewise, now back wise along the vast open court into a stony archway, all in utter darkness, into little room not ten feet square, where, beneath rows of copper meas ures and behind black old mahoga- ny bar nearly as high as his head. a grinning, frowsy. puffy-faced publican was looking benignly down upon half dozen gigantic Yorkshire ploughboys. Q
 These. already well-befuddled with liquor and pounding the deal table vi- olently with their mugs, were Justify roaring:
 Work York for my monie;
 Of all the places l ever did see,
 This is thcbest for good companie,
 Except the city of Lunnon!"
 They roared louder still when I stood before them held fast and motionless by magnificent bulldog. The ugly looking Boniface quietly reached for huge club. This he brought down with a huge crash upon the table enforcing silence in that quarter; and then thanking his dog for his oddly-secured guest with a cruel thump, which re- leased me, he led the way through lab yrinths of cobwebbed arched railways and huge deserted rooms to a wretched apartment, and, pointing to bed scarcely better than pile of rags, turned without a word of civility to take his departure.
 "One moment, landlord" I said be- ginning to remove my torn and drip- ping mackintosh... 1T am ghost-hunt- er." Ns -si
 2 He dropped the candle from his hand; snatched it hastily from the floor and scoWled at me suspicieusly.
 That is why I came to the Unicorn. There are ghosts about the old place I am told. If they are genuine, and you can treat me nicely while Isremain, I will make the old inn so famous that your business and profits will be largely increased"
 Ghosts do pay" he returned thoughtfully, but still with much cau- tion and suspicion. s4Iis lordship re- as much" .r, %N
 His lordshipt' vas sore on the subject of the nobilitysand spoke thotly. .''Why-yes7that fs-one, as comes here now, ansaagin." Then stfffening up noticeabiy: "Weil, we has no ghosts as Is ever seen." ~"-"
 How about the one of the beautiful maiden that recently made her ap- pearance here?" /: Herr" He stumbled outside the door; grasped the latch and slammed 1t shut; then opened it an inch or two and stammered: "Oh, she's not worth mindin'. Jess raps and moans out a little by day an night. You won't heed such foolishness as hers. It's the 9ld, prowlln' ghosts you'll doubtless be WaHtln, SIT. G0od-n1ght! l With this he slammed the door and dumped away down the echoing pas- sages.
 This was the once famous George. now the Unicorn Inn. Eight coaches, bound to London, or Glasgow, daily changed horses here in the good old | coaching days. Dickens and his friend | Habiots Browne, had occupiedithis very room, once a cheerful parlor chamber, when the former was making his stud ese for "Dotheboy's Hali," which still | standssa wraithful rnemento to olden Yorkshire schoolboy horrors, not half | , mile away. But the night with it's unreliable fu- les of. an awful storm shrieking about | he grewsome old place, with windows r 'attling like crazy castanets doors of railways and cupboards opening as if lung into the room by unseen hands, lnd the very fioorboards restless and 1squiet as though struggling with lgly gnomes below, seemed to unite all he hateful and evil spirits of the dead ,ast in protest at disturbance by. life lfld health and inquiry. "
 Thoroughly exhausted, put out my ight and flung myself upon the misera- 'le bed. Sleep, I thought, will safely hut out all hateful things from him vho will come with storm over stane- noor's. wifds. IHwas soon, despite the reaking, groaning and moaning of the i'd structure, in a gentle dose. Sud- lenly I awakened. from this.
 Someone was surely rapping at my loor. I sprang from my bed, lit my andie, flung open the door and peered own the low, long hallway. No one