The record-union., 1894-06-30

or blow. Those were the last words l
ever heard spoken by the man who had
made my youthtide and early manhood
almost a heaven, and who, in day, had
seemingly palsied my whole life. So,
as the train thundered on towards Wa
terloo station, past, present and future
was like horrible dream, and as devoid
of hope-save for the one look of pltlful
appeal in Robena's white face, beside
Lord Neville in his brougham-as the
night outside my compartment window
was rayless Of light.
Our sub-ed:tor had regarded me with
watchfulness and concern tor full
week.
Newton" he finally kindly said,
'you are not yourself. Your work has
no 'go' in il. One OF three things is cer-
tain. You are suffering mental syncope
| alter the excitements OF your Oxford vic
tories; you are really i'll, or you have
| been fitted. In either case you must
hays All entire change OF environment.
| Ghosts are just now coming on in the
| Saturday supplements and the reviews.
Leave LoAdon at once. Set out tor the
north. Go as far as the Scottish border il
you like. Search out the most ancient
parish churches, ruined castles and alb
beys and old. deserted manor-houses.
Find ghosts. You may give US from one
10 twenty specials on ghosts. Treat
| the subject in authentic Instances only,
scientifically, philosophically or humor-
ously. see If you cannot really capture
a live ghost for us. Good luck and good
by!''
This partly accounted for my being so
| soon in the north OF England, although
must own that its conLiguity to Dumfries,
TO which city | had already dispatched
Iatt md al
10 kobena and her mother, was the more
powerful, though halt unconscious. mo-
tive leading me on.
Through all the length of England l
had not found single ghost. Here and
there were vague hints and rumors OF
ghostly presences and haunted struct-
/ ures. but close research and investiga-
! ton caused all THESE village wraithS to
vanish into nothingness. My note
! books were filled with mass OF rub
| bish, ghoStly traces of the eyasive quarry
sought.
In this condition of defeat and discour-
agemeut l found myself standing alone,
one wild and tog-swept afternoon, with
old John Bruuskill, porter, on the
windy station platform OF the lonely
| little hamlet of kirkby Stephen, among
the fells of eastern Westmoreland over
against the desolate mOOrs of northwest
| ern orkShire.
After | had for a time listened to his
eager chatter about Roman walls, Ko-
man pottery and Roman coin, for he is a
strange, mellow compound OF faithful old
railway employe and rustic antiquarian.
| told him honestly OF my literary quest
and its i'll success.
"Brunskill," l concluded in a burst OF
professional generosity and zeal, "a
guinea for ghostn'
why, sir, ven find scores of 'em on
Stanemoor if ye dare walk 1t in th' grey
o. th' evening, sir. AM if ye don't find
'em theer less step over into Yorkshire
! am Yell find 'em in any house in dead oP
! Bowes."
.Then / shall cross the moor and be
with the ghosts of Bowes this night" l
answered cheerily.
80 ye will, SO ye will, if ye get theer
at ALL sir. But ye're like t. lose yer way
in tin tog. Don't go tonight, sir. May
be we can find y,e a ghost IN old Kirkby
stephen if ye're like u be blown from th'
road into th' rockbeds along th' passes.
Bide 'ere till morn, STRIP
| told him l was determined to go, for
of all nights when ghosts were liveliest,
such an one as was coming on was most
favorable, that ii | found one on wild
| Stanemoor or in dead old Bowes. the
promised guinea should surely be his,
when he recalled rumor among the
rustic folk roundabout that only within
the week another ghost had come to the
attention of the simple folk OF Bowes.
.'Its at th' oil Unicorn Inn," said John
Brunskill reflectively and seriously; "an'
| they do say it's a ghost o. beautiful
| maiden as sometime met foul play. Th'
oP rat-trap's full % 'em ;auyhow. Ye
can take yer pick. But / shall be right
glad u see ye back safe ERE, sir, guinea or
no guinea. Keep T. tn road, sir" he
concluded anxiously. Never leave it,
or ye're lost mani
something in old John Brunskilps
hint of the ghost OF the beautiful maiden
| spurred me bravely on over Storm-swept,
log pounded Stanemoor. Strangely, too,
despite any efforts to reason it down,
| saw in the face OF this wrath of BoWeS
the one white face haunting every waking
aud sleeping hour or my life. l plunged
through the tempest with such marvel
Gus elation as 1 had never before known,
almost with the heart thrill of Fastening
to my own.
The wild. grand sweeps of country
usually visible from the peak of the
mountain moor was denied, but l at last
stood beside Rere Cross, unmolested by
witch or warlock, and recalled the mean
ing of the gray old relic that had stood
there so sturdily Tor more than eight hun
dred years.
William the Conqueror, and Malcolm,
King of Scotland, met here with their
armies to decide, by battle, the bounda-
ries of their respective Kingdoms. In
stead of lighting they wisely feasted.
Wiser still, they decided that the very
spot should mark the boundary. There
upon they caused Il cross TO be set up.
On one side was craven the image OF
William, on the other that of Malcolm.
They named it the Roi Cross, the Gross
OF the Kings"
Time has corrupted the name to Rere
Cross 1t has eaten away its image,
Topped oil the arms and gnawed out Its
head. But it is lioie, or Rere Cross still
and marks the boundary OF the shires Of
York and Westmoreland to-day. 1t was
the one thing to be chung TO as the storm
swept over the mountain.
The night seemed to fall on Stanemoor
as though driven upon the earth out oi
the storm itself. Descending the eastern
declivity the roar of invisible torrents,
the creation of an hour, was terrible.
Thanks TO the Romans who had built
that road it was broad, sure and as eter-
nal as Stanemoor itself. Whipped
pounded and beaten along for what
seemed hours, my feet SUDDENLY struck
cobblestones.
Dead old Bowes at lasti
No human being ever so loved to be in
Bowes before. But where was the ham.
let after all? No light from candle Oh
lamp cleaned from window within it.
Here and there along the zigzag street a
faint gIimmer flushed against some tiny
panes. Peering within old and palsied
Fl crones, bent and trembling, were here and