Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1895-03-30

Tue I0oGiHS now OecaWe moTc cccuies
Still the rain descended in sheets,
and the wind blew with force that
oftimes threatened to. blow US of
our feet.
Like far distant star we at length
saw light ahead. 1t appeared,
then disappeared, then appeared
again.
"There is the cottage" said our
guide. "We will reach it soon
now"
What mean fellow not to offer
us lift on his horse |" grumbled
Hugh. certainly have enough
trouble to keep my own footing not
to have to guide horse over these
bottomless holes, but he might have
been civil enough to make the offer
anyway"
We were proceeding over the soft,
damp turf of the moor, and | had
frequently stopped from time to time
to feel If the horse left any tracks
behind him. Not the trace of a
track could / find.
Hugh" / whispered, athat horse
isn't leaving no tracks behind him."
"Do stop your ghost stories,"
said Hugh, impatiently. " Anyhow
restrain them until we get out of
this lost part of Scotland
After half an hours trudging We
stood before the cabin from whence
the light had proceeded.
1t was small, mud walled. cover
ed with thick roof of thatch. Two
little windows on either side OF the
marrow door had their shutters up,
and through the jagged chipks the
rays of strong illumination within
shone brightly.
:" Go right in and make yourselves
at home, while | take nay horse to
stable" said our mysterious guide
as he turned of TO the rear of the
hut.
We pushed open the door. The
apartment We entered was large
one, much larger than the outside OF
the hut would lead US to believe, but
what astonished US the most was the
luxurious manner in which it was
| furnished.
Heavy tapestries covered the four
walls, thick Turkish carpet was
spread upon the floor, four chairs
OF solid mahogany, two lounges of
the same material, all upholstered in
the richest velvet, huge bureau oil
polished pine and mahogany table
were situated in various parts of the
room, the lounges standing tempt
ingIy before the wood fire that crack.
led up the chimney unrestrained by
any CRATE. A hanging lamp sus.
pended from the cross beam, whose
shade seemed studded, If not with
actual jewels, with wonderful imita
tons thereof, cast brilliant, almost
dazzling, light over all.
/ . Well" said Hugh as soon as he
could realize the situation. This
seems like fairy tale. This would be
an enchanted castle and not an en-
chanted hut. All, but those lounges
look tempting however This must
be some great mans shooting box,
though it looked very unlike one
from the outside as well as / could
see. That man you took for ghost
must e the owner. His invitation
for us to make ourselves at home
sounded "a if he was. Well, /
would not mind meeting such
a ghost again under like
circumstances, however, may heaven
forfend ~
We were 30 tired and wet, and
this apartment being evidently the
only one in the house, we proceeded
to undress end hang up our garments
to dry.
| Under one of the sofas Hugh had
discovered two dressing gowns of
superb finish, which we calmly ap
propriated, and our host delayed so
long about rejoining us we lay down
on the lounges and were soon sleep
ing as worn and weary wayfarers
alone can sleep.
| What sounded like the clash OF q
mighty cymbal brought me erect on
my feet and wide awake after enjoy
ing a much needed and refreshing
sleep. | looked about. The lamp
had gone out. So, too, had the fire.
| But in the center of the room a pill
| lar of light seemed to descend from
the roof to the floor. In the midst
of the pillar was the upright form of
| q enerab'e man. His heal was
thrown back, his long, white hair
falling in mass over his shoulders.
His great beard covered his entire
chest. He was clad in an ok skin,
fastened to q siaiowy stake, and
| bis naked feet--merciful heavens
were resting upon live Goals Of fire.
On looking closer at the face | saw
q look of hopeless. unspeakable an
| guish thereon, but not a moan es-
capped from the writhing lips. As l
stood horror stricken, a sweet female
voice rose and swelled in O wierd
Wild chant Of heast piercing sadness.
| l. Al