The daily morning journal and courier., 1894-10-27
TALES OF TEN TRAVELLERS.
'sTRuTHER kAMMocrs HALLOWEEN.
BY EDaAR [. wAKEMEs.

desk in his dingy library. in ancient Hammock Manse, and listened moodily to the moaning night wind of autumn. as 1t swept wildly through the almost bare branches of the elms and syca- mores which shut in the gray old place darkly from the highway that led to the near and pleasant New England village below.
 old Stone 'Struther, he was called by the villagers who had most cause to dread the cruel power his heartless nature and considerable wealth enabled him to exercise Miser Hammock was his commonest title among the many who knew only his niggardllness and greed.
 Brother Anstruther. he was always called by his dead brothers wife. who, as his sole housekeeper and servant, tremblingly slaved on through the years to thus protect her two children from want. Ogre Anstruther these children, Edith and Herbert Hammock, whisperingly spoke of him to each oth- CT, to their mother and to one loyal friend, the village schoolmaster. Charles Penruth, between whom and old 'Struther Hammock there existed some thing akin to mortal hate.
 Here's another cursed Halloween!' muttered 'Struther Hammock at his ram- shackle old desk.
 He struck outward and backward with his fist. It broke piece of leath- CT out of his frayed and time worn armchair.
 ''Everything's going to rack and ruin;" he continued as he noticed the rent his fist had made.
 He sat back in his chair and grabbed ly closed his eyes. A slight sputtering of the candle started him into an up- right position.
 "Of course! That's got to waste. too. The wick actually turns over and burns the side all down into the socket"
 He snuffed the light with a savage snap of his fingers. It burned up bright CT for a moment. and some sort of relevancy took his attention to the an tiquated fireplace near.
 "See there! Look at that waste. That woman'n ruin mev'
 He stepped to the chimney side and with his foot kicked ashes over the edges of the blazing logs.
 'Wood costs money. But, Lord! Lit tie they care. That's what comes of feeding a dead brothers wife and brats"
 He turned back to his chair and, just ss he was about to reseat himself; he caught sight of his own shadow upon the wainscotted wall. It was high as the cracked ceiling and was swinging its giant arms wildly.
 He wheeled about to look at it. It seemed to confront him threateningly. Shadows, shadows, shadows| he
 
 Just the same everywhere. Shadows under trees, shadows behind buildings, shadows alongside grave-stones. Un- necessary. All folderol. All waste"
 He advanced to his own shadow on the wall and it gradually shrunk to his own stature The he put his hard fist against the pan cling with 8 grinding motion.
 That's 1t, now. Go right at any thing that threatens and it'll wilt, Beat it out. Grind 1t out. Wipe it out. If you don't, it'll wipe you out. That's Anstruther Kannock's way; and it's mighty good way, tool!
 Despite his clustering bravery, the man seemed to be environed with shad- ows. They worried him. The tapping of some little branch against the pane brought him with 8 start to the win dow.
 Why ain't them blinds shut?" he querulously muttered. "Just like their pesky carelessness. I don't want any body looking in here, and they know 1t. Confound them all! They'd be even glad to have pranks played on me here to-night-the brats and that devilish schoolmaster would, anyhoww
 He stood at the window a moment and seemed to relapse into his former miserable reflections. It was one of those eerie nights when it is dark and clear by turns, and the wind leaps ! across the face of nature in cutting. whitening puisations filling all the out CT world with invisible forces and pres ences.
 Yes" continued the man at the win dow in an ugly tone, waste, waste. waste! Look at that cloud of leaves. Every ones got to go. That's waste. Grass Is all bent and matted. That's waste. Birds fused and fumed alI summer building their nests. Dead now; and that's waste, too. If I'd made the earth and the things in 1t, there'd been no such dodrotted folderol!" He turned his great eyes peeringly into the night. The roof of a gray old < church loomed darkly above the writh- ing branches of surrounding trees. and 'Struther Kannock,s face darkened.
 That cost ten thousand" he nut tered. "What allfired nonsense and waste that isr'
 At that moment the scant moonlight revealed q little huddle of white tonb- stones like crouching ghosts against the hills beyond the church front, and one, taller than the rest seemed to fill the man at the window with hateful re-