The record-union. [volume], January 06, 1894, Page 5, Image 5

About The record-union. [volume] (Sacramento, Calif.) 1891-1903

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TALES of
TEN TRAVELERS
TBE BOGLE OF THE WISHING GikTE.
[Copyright, 1894. AU rigl.ts reserved.]
1.
rilK CROAKING OF TUE RAVENS.
In the heart of that loveliest and grand
est region of Kuglaud, the Lake District
of Cumberland and Westmoreland, fair |
as a dream of beauty and repose, lie
the vale, the lake and the hamlet of Gras
mere.
Towards the north trails the ever as
ending highway to Dunmail Kaise,
where more than a thousand years ago j
tho first Edward crushed the Kingdom i
of Norihumbria and buried the slaugb- j
tared monarch, Dunmail, beneath tho '
cairn or Kaiso of pebbles which stands as J
he left it to this day, while the Striding
Edge of lordly Helveliyn rises dark and
fierce beyond.
To the west wind the lofty, serrated !
edges of Steel Fell and Helm Crag, like !
half-ruined mighty castle walls, with
the black, crone-like Langdale Pikes be
hind, and shutting in this vale of peace j
in the east are the bights of Seat Sandal, j
1 airfield and Nab -scar. The Lake ot
Grasmere, blue aud deep and still, and
specked by one emerald islet, rests rij>
pieless and shadowless betweeu.
Where its dreamless waters curve to
the south towards shimmering Kydal j
"Water and Koyal Windermere, on the j
hamlet side of the lake a round, high
half mountain—which the peasants rail
"the holt," provincial dialect for the
"peaked bill—juts out boldly from Nab
Scar. It is forest-crowned and dark with
centuries-old trees. The coach road now
winds around and below it beside the
lake. The ancient highway to rose-em- j
bowered Ambleside, which once With
Vmbriau stubbornness pushed straight
across the hight, is still worn bare, brown
and smooth by valley folk in haste, by
Cupid-teased swains and blushing lasses,
by wandering ariists and poets seeking
the haunts of Wordsworth, Southey and I
Coleridge and by all those tourists from !
lar-01l iands who ever loved enough to I
love io dream again beside a haliowed j
shrine of Love.
Just there, at the top of the hill, whero !
silence is soundless, where the trees in- j
torlace above tho old highway like the !
massive arches ot some splendid cathedral |
nave, the sunshine Hoods in as through j
an oriel window, through which again, j
across meadow, mere, valley and mount- j
.lin sides, in uttermost longings with the i
tenderesi visions of human eyes, the very
peaks of heaven, through centuries, have
1 ecu seen. For there, lamous in legend,
romance and song, stands England's ten- i
derest ot all lovo shrines, theancieut L ni
brian Wishing Gate.
At noontide of an August day next be
foro the day of its patron saint, Grasmere
Hamlet lay snug and suuuy at the head
of the mete beside its most venerable of ;
English parish churches, gray old St, j
Oswald's. This good saint's festal day
lulls on the fifth ol August. Almost from
the dawn of Christianity in Britain it hus
been celebrated at Grasmere on the Sat- j
urday nearest St. Oswald's Day, by that
elsewhere nearly obsolete ceremony, :
treasured by Umbrian folk with some-j
thing akin to fierce affection from even j
pagan times, of rushbearing, or strewing ;
their sacred temples with rushes and
with flowers.
This noonday the ancient village seemed
smilingly halt waking from centuries of
repose. The tiny church windows stood i
open. There were wreaths upon the j
graves of Wordsworth and Hartley Cole- I
r.dge. A white-haired sexton, a beauti- j
ful young woman and a stalwart young |
man, were leaning over the churchyard
■wall, as if listening to the melodies of tho j
Rothray stream below. A lew mountain
carts stood at the doors of white cottages j
laden with green rushes—"sieves'' the '
peasants call them—gathered irom tbe
breezy upland fells. A "vagrom" crew,
■with "carts and vans, had halted at the i
village edere and were whummeling their
carts, tethering their cattle, turning ioose
their frowsy children ana disposing the
ragged end*, of a Punch and Judy booth ;
and a patched and .splintered merry-go- |
'round. Sweet staves ot hymns to St.
Oswald, of rashbearing hymns and of
choral even-songs were wafted irom un- |
seen places. Tbe littio inns were being
lazily p;it to rights. From some far and
smothered retreat floated unrestrainable j
notes of the village band, tuning anew
the martial strains of Jemmy Dawson's
Rushbearing March, which, in olden !
days, leapea from the strings of Jemmy
Dawson's fiddle, and fuli iv the drowsy :
sunlight, on the old inu porch, where i
Southey, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Dei
Qnincey and Scott once sat iv loving con- i
verse, the white-haired ravens of the an
cient hamlet sat and sagely cawed and j
croaked.
Tiiese were Christopher, or Cursty,
Harris, Jemmy Kailton, Willy Been and j
Tommy Bamthet, all serving men to the i
Westmoreland country gentry in their j
time, and now patriarchal Grasmere cot
ters who met at each other's ingie-neuks,
at the public house, or wherever the sun
of village hospitality or of heaven shone
warmest, there to plaint upon the fash
i -s present times or to purr aud croon
.ver the brave and braw old days that
■were. •
Cursty Harris had just joined his com
panions. He sat down petulantly at the
end of ti.e stone bench. lii*
brows wore drawn tightly, and his lips
a. ere grotesquely pursed, the corners of
the under lip being strained by some un
nsuai iiuier emotion almost to the bottom
cf his chin. His friends know this was a
portentious omen, and thoy kept silence
lor a time, interchanging sly nudges of
mute and expectant prophecy. Soon
YViiiy Benn Baidsoftly:
"Th' auld toun istoonin' uo abit?"
"Oh, aye; th' mornin's rushbeariu',"
ventured Johnny Kailton.
"An' SU I (aswuld's Neet,"' piped Tom
i ,y Bamthet, with a wink at Jem and
Will, "is bogle neet on th* holt by the
Wush'n Geat. \\ nae'ii Maister Cursty
Harris bolp f lay th' ghaist th' morrer
i'e"t?"
•"Nabuddy," retorted Cursty so sav
lv that "his three cronies gave three
audden starts and uttered tbree "Lans-a
niarcies" together.
"Nabuddy," he repeated with vehe
mence. "Na mair o' th' Wush'n Geat
bogie for Cursty Harris. What's 'yam
deeath I kna nit, but I'll clap cc- r.a mair
on ghaists i' this leef, if 1 can bolp it!"
Every one in the lovely valley knew of
the bogle, ghost or spirit, of the Wishing
(.ate It iiad appeared every rushbear
ing night for a-quarter of a century. Tnc
apparition was that of a white-haired,
White-bearded old man, fantastically n >r-
SACRAMENTO DAILY RECORP-UIVION. SATURDAY, JANUARY 6, 1894.—-TX PAOES.
landed with rushes and flowers. It ap
peared beside the Wishing Gate precisely
at midnight, and stood for little time as if
waiting for some one that nover came.
Then it went away. Some one Lad heard
it moan as it disappeared.
"She will surely come next Oswald's
night!"
This plaint of the bogie had passed into
a sort of saying among the valley folk re
garding anything expected or desired at <
the rushbearing season of tho year. Many
were in terror of the wraith, and not a
lew of the older peasant folk complained
of the Vicar of St. Oswald's for not "lay
ing the ghaist," as any good priest might
do if he would, as had been done in West
moreland times without number before
him. There were strange whispers, too,
that this bogle bore some mysterious re
latioifto the almost deadly hatred that had
shadowed the lives of two of the oldest
families of Westmoreland—tho Seacrolts
01 Kosedale Manor, which stood among
the sycamores on tho Grasmere side of
Fairlield Mountain, just above the ham
let and the < ddgarths of Deepdale Hall,
on the eastern side ol Fairlield, one of
the olden Kings of Patterdale and Ulls
water.
it was also believed by a lew that old j
Geordie Nicholson, for nearly half a cent- j
ury the most trusted servant of the Sea- I
crofts, had been instrumental many years
before in preventing a tryst, which, if
kept, might have changed the fortunes of
both families, between the fair Margaret
Carew, who afterwards became tho Lady
of Rosedale Manor, aud her then lover,
an Oldgarth. As dimly, but as surely,
too. it had grown into popular belief that
old Geordie was somehow responsible for
the Bogle of tho Wishing Gate. Piqued j
by the jibes ot the peasantry, with his j
former fellow servant, Cursty Harris, as ]
trusted companion, he had undertaken to ;
"lay" this troublesome wraith, and come j
out ol the valorous effort with little more
than his life. What had occurred had
never been divulged, but the Bogle of the
Wishing Gate had taken on added ter
rors, and Cursty Harris had never got so
near the grewsome subject, even with his
boon companions, as at this moment he
seemed to be.
"If ye'il promish f keep it girt f yer- j
sells, lads," continued Cursty, edging
close to his friends with a sheepish but
worried look iv his lace, "I'll tell ye what
hap'd last rushbearin' neet."
Tbey promised bravely, and the four
oid heads were together in an instant.
"Weel, Geordie Nicholson com'd f !
mea, an' says, 'Cursty, I can't stan' it na !
loauger.' I says f Geordie, 'Doan't, |
Geordie, if cc can't.' 'I wi' na, lore f j
Lord, if yell gae wi' mea,' says Geordie. |
'Gae wher, mon?' says I. worried wi' th' ,
tiearce way he looket. 'Ta th' holt f lay
tli' ghaist o' th' Wush'n Geat,' says i
Geordie, greave as a passon. 'Yell be j
daft il yo do,' says I. 'iii be daft if 1 ■
doan't,' says he, beatin' his head and his j
breastie, like he'd a sair consence.
"Seem' sumbuddy must gae wi' Geor- j
die, I gey in, but telt him to his head, I'd
hey na ban' wi' th' ghaist. . 'Leave th' j
ghaist f mea,' says Goordie, shakin' his
stoot stick an'axin' wild I hey a pinto'
yell afore goin'. 'It's dowly wark we're
at Geordie*, says I, 'an' I'd teyter hey a I
swoap o' rum nor a pint o' yell.' Geordie
bro't it fra th' Dove an' we set oot.
"'Twor a half hour f midneet, far
Geordie war bund to mak th' Wush'n j
Geat afoare th' bogle. We cloinb th' holt j
wi'oot jowriu' or freet, though th' neet j
war a bit seaumy, an' war sum dodderin' |
an' shiverin' by th' haanted geat. 'Howp
ower th' geat,' says Geordie, 'an' hide
ahiut th' wall.'
"He holp'd me ower an' gey mea some
cobble -stanes f heeze at th' ghaist if it
sud be gettin' tho best o' Geordie. I had
nit mair than gat in pleace so I cud kleek
ower th' wall.at f scralile, wheu Geordie
straightened oop braw, his stoot stick ia
baith hands—lads, I wor proud o' Geor
die Nicholson—and whusper'd ower f
wall,
" 'Cash—it's coomin!"
"When 1 looket ance mair ther stood
th' ghaist fairly afoare Geordie—all spret
tit ower wi' rushes an' roses an' wi' laug
white haar an' whuskers tawtit an' tang
eltamang'em. Lansa marcy! I'd a gey
fufty paun fermyain bed! Th* ghaist said
nee'r a word an' Geordie said less. Then
th' ghaist put oot his hand, cuddlin' like.
Geordie wailed till th' ghaist wor clais,
an' theu bumm'd cc wi' his stick.
LorAi! what a skirlin' an' scralllin' an'
roarin!
"Quick as leetnm' th' ghaist grabbed
Geordie an' haistened cc about liko a
bawflin in a hclmwind, Geordie beoliu'
'Cursty, Cursty! Lord, Cursty, bolp
mea,' like a young bull, till I thowt ee'd
turn'd th' ghaist ou mea. Bit th' ghaist
seemed like oe'd nawt else in mind bit
slaisterin' Geordie.
"I cud nit run; I cud nit heeze th' cob
bles; au' fur vena freet I swuun'd deed
awa. Lans. lads, may ye uiver kna sech
a neet! 1 kua nit what cam o' th' ghaist;
bit when 1 cam aboot 'twor gloam o' th'
morn. I ioun' poor Geordie speeacWess
i' tb' stanes au' mud, an' dragged cc
heeam f Kosedale. It seemed ee'd niv
ver coom aroun'. but wheueedidee yam
mert oot i' awl'u freet:
'• '.Lord, Lord! cc's John Auldgarth's
ghaist!'
Cursiy'a companions were stunned by
the disclosure and sat gasping and gap
j iug as ii recovering from hurt or fright.
"Bit that's nit th' warst," continued
: Cursty with genuine trepidation. "Miss
I Margery, ower theer," motioning with
| his thumb over his crouched shouider to
a the churchyard where lovely Mar
garet Beacrofl and her affianced husband
still lingered with the oid sexton, bright
; ening up the sacred place for the mor
: row, "Miss Margery ower theer, as ivery
soul in Grasmere loaves, is dangert o' her
i life."
"Wadang it," exclaimed Tommy Bam
, thet furiously, "saay what ye wull, mon,
! bit doon't saay thot!-'
"Saay it I wull, Maister Bamthet. It's
I trow as th' greave. Hout! Decdn't auld
, Geordie coom agean last neet? Deed'nt cc
' greau an' tak on like mad aboot a' th'
! bighfoslk'e fas hen an' worriten? Deedn't
cc telt mea a' th' teal o' youug John
; VuMgarth staunin' oop fees layther's
! head agin th' lashen an' cursin', year in
year oot, fur loave o' Margery? Deedn't
i young John at f eeud, gang f Amearky
I till ee'd gotten f be a gradly geolergees
'■ or sum'et, wi' gold mines an' brass aneuf
1 t' bowten a' Grasmere an' Patterdaal
< thrawn in? Deedn't Miss Margery baud
I oot agin his courtin', when cc cootn'd
i heame an' gie in fair, w'en John telt her
i <Totten ees am lortun wi' his am
1 head an' han's? Bit, deedn't th' sonsy
lass mak oaath t' ne'er wed an Auldgarth
• L th' Wush'n Geat bogle wor laid, an'
i the Auldgnrths an' Seacrofts wor freeans?
| Hcut, lads! But thof s nit th' warat!"
Cursty was in as great a state of cx
i citemeut over tbe grewsome and hope-
I los- circumstances of the situation as his
hearers. He continued in a tone of al
most desperate compassion.
"Lads, I can nit abear it, bit Miss Mar
gery ower thoer ha' swear'd she'll gang
aiane t' th' Wush'n Geat to-morrer neet.
Nabuddy can stoap ber. Ye kna she'll
gae iff holt I'ell'd ower on her f mak her
g reave.
"Worser nor a', theer'll be deeath i'
Grasmere. I dreamt o' flowers and rushes
three neets runnin'. 1 seed 'em tungelt
ronn' the ghaist o' th' Geat, roun' Miss
Margery, roun' llosedalo Hall. I kna its
deeath lur f puir lass yon; I kna it!"
Gentle-hearted Cursty buried his head
in his hands, completely overcome with
his miserable forebodings. The mists
must also have been deep on his old cro
nies' eyes. As if with a like impulse of
j pitying interest they arose, and, shading
I their laces, looked long and sadly into St.
Oswald's churchyard where Margaret
| Seacroft and young John oldgarlh stood
I in the dappled sunshine beside the grave
'of Wordsworth. Just at that moment
i Margaret was placing another wreath
j upou the gray old headstone. When they
! saw her lirst touch the flowers to her lips
in a sweet and loving way, the three old
ravens sat down again upon the bench
with a despairing groau. Theu, one after
another, thoy croaked :
"Lord ha' maroy on she!''
"JLan&J sum'et man be din!"
"Cursty, Cursty, yer dreeum's th' warst
o' a'!"
11.
LAYING TUP: OHAIST.
Adjoiuiug the ancient paneled hall of
Kosedale Manor-house were two largo
apartments with huge bay windows.
They were each half chamber, half sit
ting-room, aud looked out oast masses of
flowen, melodious fountains, shaded
paths and driveways, over ali the sweet
Grasmere vale, with its sleeping hamlet,
lake aud the blue, circling mountains be
yond.
The master of liosedale, Matthew Sea
' croft, an invalid sKice tho death of his
wife, Margaret, remained almost con
stantly in one of these rooms looking
across his many acres with patient pain
and longing; pain at the fear of ever leav
ing the living image of the dead behind
him, longing through that living imago
to call again his own tho deathless image
beyond the grave.
The other bayed room, which had been
his wife's, was now his daughter Mar- ]
gery's, as she was called in loving lamil- I
larity at Kosedale and iv the valley
homes below. The toast of the country
gentry for years, "to tho bravest woman
in Westmoreland, aud the teuderest,"
had been to this line, fair gentle woman,
with auburn hair and hazel eyes. Such
the power of a pure, calm soul shining
through steadfast, kindly eyes upon hu
man kind, that Grasmere peasant folk
had the common saying, "When Miss
Margery claps een on yan, yell nalauger
hide yer thowts."
But a few hours had passed sinco the
ravens were croaking besiUe the Gras
mere Inn. Margery was in her own
room at Kosedale, her lingers listlessly
but loudly wandering over the keys of
her piano, her eyes lixed upon her moth
er's portrait opposite the huge carved
oaken bed, and her whole attitude that
of one gently but anxiously awaiting
tho outcome of some loudly cherished
project.
And well she might, for that very
morning she had won from her lather the
only reluctant gift of his lile—a letter to
her" lover's father, Kalph Oldgarth, ask
ing in no measured words that the past
might be forgotten, that their children
might be spared the shadow of hate be
| tween them, and that tho Oldgarths
I and Seacrolts might henceforth be known
! iv dear old Westmoreland only as frienUs.
J Old Geordie, when ordered to deliver
! this letter at Doepdale Hall, had, for the
| lirst timo, come close to rebellion. He
I pothered about long before going, and
muttered ominously to himself when
I finally setting out. ln fair weather,
like this, his errand to Deepdale Hall,
which lay just over the brow of Fairfield,
should require but an hour, and Margery
was now awaiting the old man's return.
I She mused thoughtlully over her piano,
passed now and then into her father's
room for a momont, but always came
! back to the window, looking wistfully
! over the hedges along tho mountain path
over which Geordie must come.
She came again to the piano and softly
; played the airs of the morrow's sacred
: hymns and songs. Soon her sweet, true
: voice rose strong and clear with the mcl
! ody and words of that grand old hymn to
St. Oswald, which had been borne aloft
through the black timbered vault of the
! aucient Grasmere Church by a thousand
j voices, led by her own, lor many a past
! Kushbearing Day :
They won u_ peace, Thy saints, O Lord,
Even thougti, lite Koyal David, tney,
Smiting and smitten with the sword,
Tolled through their mortal day.
Thou makest the wrath of man thy praise—
At this moment old Geordie burst into
• the room, faint from exertion and over
; come by terror and rage. Margery, with
\ out an exclamation, but almost as quick
| as thought, with a warning gesture of
i silence to Geordie, had softly closed her
! father's door, got tue old servant into her
own easy-chair and herself close and gui-
I eting beside him.
"Time enough, Geordie; time enough;"
: she said in her grave, gentle way as sho
picked the brambles one by one from his
torn clothing to divert him. "'.Ye let
! none of these grow on our side of Fair
! field, do we, Geordie?"
"Na. na, Miss Margery; bit th' curs'd
j Auldgarth pleace "
"Ttiere, there, Geordie. I kuow all that
has happened. You just went to Kalph
: Oldgarth with the letter, and—and—it did
1 not quite please him; and "
"An'ioref Lord! I'd a murderteeon'y
i fur loave o' yersel an' auld maister theer!"
I broke in Geordie viciously and passion
ately.
"Murder is a dreadful, dreadful word,
Geordie. And then, you lelt so badly
about disappointing us, that you hurried
away, Geordie."
"Hurried awa!—hurried awa ! Lord,
Miss Margery, th' auld curse loos'd th'
houns' on mea, afore I'd meu th' geat. I
ciear'd th' geat at a boon', fur my leaf;
; an' as I toorned f heeze a bow'der at t'
pack—Laws! wha met my eon oop theer
,i' th' auld Hail wundow, aboon th'
poarch, bit th' Bogle o' th' Wush'n
Great, glowerin an' clutchin like eed
lowp th' houu's an' geat an' a', an' ha'
my vena leaf. Oh, Miss Margery!"
whined the old man piteously, "yer a !
deed ooman, if ye gae f Geat fmorrer
i neet. YeTl be smashered f bits wi' auld j
! John Auldgarth's ghaist!"
Margery raised Geordie to his feet, and, <
i with a ourtmg injunction to secrecy, dis- j
j missed him as graciously as though her j
I own heart were free from pang or storm. I
Wheu the door had closed behiud him,
she pressed her lace against the window
panes toward the peaceml vale below, j
and again upon the panes toward the
wild mountain path above, She listened j
a moment at her father's door. From !
tnis she turned her white, hurt face, now j
tilled witb uuutterable childish longing,
to tne mute mother-face against the walL
Then she threw herself ou her couch,
giving way to sobs aud tears; while the
deepening shauows of the evening gath
ered close and chill over hamlet, vale and
ball.
The next day, tho famous Kushbearing
Day iv Grasmere, had come and almost
gone. The peasant folk for miles around j
had trooped into the old hamlet, as had |
their forefathers for hundreds of years j
before them. All the ancient merryinak- j
ing and rustic games of football, cricket, j
wrestling and "putting the stone" had |
been enjoyed, as of yore, by the stroug j
Umbrian men and youth; while the lusty j
mountain lasses had gazed with unstinted '•
awe on tho "vagrom" shows, had Haunted !
their conscious beauty and coquetted to j
their heart's content. Oid and young j
had joined the immemorial procession '
which always forms at tho mossy
Kothay bridge. The village baud, piping ;
the enlivening strains of Jemmy Daw- j
son's March, and four maidens in wliite, \
with Margery at their head as was her
wout, garlanded with liowers, and carry
ing a silken rose-bordered scarf l'ulod
with green rushes for the strewing, had
led. A motley troop of children had I
come after, carrying tall holly boughs— j
the "bearings" lor the rushes—entwined
with rushes and liowers, crosses, hearts
and wreaths, here and there interspersed
With ligures of the infant -Moses in the
bulrushes; and thou all the sturdy I'm- i
brian folk, with handfuls of rushes and
liowers, had gaily followed on. The
throng had wouud in and out ol tho few
narrow village streets; and had halted at ;
the churchyard entrance where tho band '■
ceased playing aud where a thousand sol- j
emn voices had joined in the noble hymn
to St. (iswald. Thus the quaiut old church !
had beeu filled; and the multitude, still j
singing soit aud low, had strewn flowers I
and rushes in crumbling porch, in i
shadowy loft, in ghostly belfry, on grim j
old Norman tower, in aislo and pev. and i
chancel, and at last upon the sacred altar j
of tbo hallowed pile, as tho sweet old j
hymn was done.
Margery had beeu tho veritable sun- j
shine and life In these simple and voner- i
able rites and observances of St. Oswald's i
lestal day, as she had been for years; bad !
led tho tender Grasmere even-song, sing- j
ing as she had never sung beiore; had ;
given glad gayety and zest to that last ;
and merriest ancient custom of tho day,
the laughter-making distribution of gin- j
ger bread and sweets, John Oldgarth, at j
lier bidding, serving the generous poi- ;
tions with mirth-provoking jests; aud as
the August eveuing fell aud the happy
hearted peasant folk were lumbering up i
the mountain ways to their quaint, old i
rock-built homes, she hau bidden her j
betrothed au allectiouato good night at
the gate of the rectory whero she was to
remain until morning, in the knowl
edge that he was to pass the night with
souie American tourist friends at the j
Kriuce of Wales hostelry beside the lake. •
In all this long and happy day, if Mar- !
gery's heart had ached, it was unheeded
by any, save the live arch conspirators
who gathered, towards midnight, at i
Curtsy Harris' cottage, roundly swearing |
that "sum'et mun be din," while nurs
ing their fading courage with generous j
drafts of alo. Hudgo cudgels stood
against tho wall, and their brave plot, de
termined at the last moment alter such
friendly wrangling, was that Curtsy
Harris, Willy Men, Jemmy Kailton and
Tommy Kamlhet, were to proceed to tho
Wishing < late to rescue Margery, and en
gage the agile and powerful ghost at all
hazards, until Geordie could hasten to
the scene, with John Oldgarth, to render
fitting assistance to Miss Margory, and
give color in her eyes to their traitorous
though affectionate and chivalrous inter
ference.
A little beforo midnight Margery, still
clad as at the Rushbearing, set out from
tho rectory along the old highway leading
across the holt. She had hardly reached
the little cottage at the hillside, when she
became conscious of being followed, i
"Ah. Geordie, Geordie," she reflected,
"you have played mo I'also at last!" '
COME TO-DAY
(SATURDAY) AND SEE THE GREAT VALUES IN OUR
MIDWINTER
M mf —^ ___f^& H\ ki r~^^ k% (Ss£* m***%
THE PRICES jPIRE
DOWN! DOWN! DOWN!
Men's Heavy Kip Brogans 78e
Men's Veal Calf Congress Gaiters 90c
Men's B. Calf Hook and Lace Shoes 90c
Men's $1 Imitation Alligator and Goat Slippers 80c
Ladies' $3 Kid Button Dress Shoes $1 78
Ladies' $2 80 Kid Button Dress Shoes £l SS
Ladies' $8 French Kid Shoes, narrow, width $3 OO
Misses' Kid Button Dress Shoes 7oc
A few more of those Handsome $12 Kersey Overcoats f0r...55 98
$8 Men's Heavy Ulsters, sizes 34 to 38 $3 98
How is this? Men's Dark Gray Medium Weight All-wool
Sack Suits, sizes 34 to 40, for $2 98
Men's Brown Satinet Sack Suits, medium weight, for $1 78
Men's Black Oilskin Suit (coat, pants and hat), worth $2 40;
all for 60c
A choice of SOO Gents' Silk Teek Scarfs for 10c
80 dozen Gents' White Handkerchiefs 4 for 10c
Boys' Seamless Gray Socks, sizes 7 to 9 4 pairs for 2Se
In Fancy Goods Department we have on sale Ladies' Corsets, Hand
kerchiefs, Gloves, Hosiery, etc.
Closing in the Dry Goods Department: Table Linens, Dress Goods,
Towels, Table Covers, Blankets, Prints, Canton Flannels and
Sheetings.
A GREAT SLADGHTER IN MILLINERY GOODS.
Trimmed and Untrimmed Hats lower than ever before.
Trimmings, Ornaments and Hat Fixings of all kinds—all in the
same boat.
THE RED HOUSE COMPANY
(INCORPORATED ),
tT Street, be;t-ucre.e.n. S<z\r<z.nt}n and. EigHtH, Saciatnento.
She halted a moment, and the skulking
figures also stopped. She advanced to
ward them and they retreated. She
turned and precoeded up the hill, when
they agaiu followed. Sho increased her
pace. So did those behiud. When along
side the cottago she suddenly left the
bill, and, speeding along the hedge to
the highway at the lake edge, quickly
disappeared.
One of her pursuers whispered, "Lans
a marcy! She hey gied oop th' ghaist;"
then the group huddled at the edge ot the
bolt-copse shuddering and wondering
what wisdom and valor would next sug
gest. They had not long to wait. Mar
gery had made tho half circuit of the little
hill in a few moments. Gliding past the
dread Wishing Gate, without even a
glance of interest or fear, she grasped a
handful of pebbles and mortar from the
crumbling coping of the wall, and, dash
ing down tho steep holtside, she appeared
before her startled rescuers so suddenly
and pelted them with the missiles so
sharply, that ail these ale-fuddled Don
Quixotes of Grasmere, with cries of su
perstitious terror, incontinently took to
their heels, never checking their mad
llight until barred safely from all ghosts ]
mid terrors behind their humble cottage
doors.
Almost laughing and crying at the rout
of her pursuers and the grewsomeness of
her situation, in a moment more she had
reached tho Wishing Gate. The mooniit
scene below was tranquil and serene. As
she leaned against tne old love-shrine,
whose bars are cut with names and datos
by countless pilgrim hands, she mused
aloud: "What should be my dearest
wish, beyond laying tho ghost—ii" one
ever really conies here! —this strangely
sweetly St. < Oswald's night?"
"To bo John Oldgarth's happy bride!
God bless you, Margaret Carew, I knew
you would come at last," spoke a voice
close beside her, in tones so thrillingly
liko her lover's, that she turned in glad
surprise—to tind herself clasped tenderly
in the arms of the dread ghost she had
'come to lay!
Just as the first morning light was
faintly stealing over the higher mountain
peaks, au old white-haired and white
bearded man was reclining in Margery's
easy-chair in her own room at Kosdale
Manor-house, lie rested in an ineffable
light and calm alter half a life lime of
utter night and storm. One hand held
that of Mathew Seacroft firm and sure and
true. The other lovingly stroked tho lair
head of the noble woman beside him.
His deep, kindly eyes fell now upon the
portrait on the wall, now upou Margery's
smiling, upturned face, again upon Mar
gery's lover standing near, and even
rested benignly upon trembling old Geor
die, cowering in the shadows behind.
Finally tho old man spoke.
"John, your father gave out that I was
dead. Bnt I aui tho elder brother still.
Thank God anil Margaret! I am again
the master of Deepdale Hall, and it shail
remain a. John Oldgarth's after lam gone.
Margery." and his voice sank for a mo
mont, "has made us oue glad family at
tho cud."
As the sun swept bright aud clear into
the Umbrian Valleys, and St. Oswald's
matin-chime stole sweetly on them there,
!
jf 1 They End this way
[ & fo a Ef*™* ! —the names of most so-called
( I |\ I j washing compounds. And it
j j Im | \, m _ x _ isn't an accident, either. It's
( 1 \ I I to ma^e them sound something
I \| I j like Pearline. That is the
I w ™ * aaEH_fc f original washing compound—
\ I the first and in every way the
V-.-gp^iw-m . ...ujuijff b est _ These imitations are thus
named in the hope of confusing you—in the hope that you'll
mistake them for Pearline. For most people, that ought to
be enough. It ought to convince them that the article so
imitated, so copied, so looked-up to, is the one that is the best
to use. If your grocer sends you an imitation,be honest —send
it back —demand Pearline. 3a. James pyle, New York.
plt*-rcUanrou».
— : — ■
" FOR PAIN '*»^^#
THE CHEAPEST AND BEST MEDICINE FOR FAMILY USE IN THE WORLD.
Instantly stops the most excnici-Uine; pains; cures all congestions and inflammations.
For Sprains. Bruises, Backache, Pains in the Chest or Sides, Beadacha
Toothache, Congestions, Inflammations, Sore Throat. Bronchitis Colds oil
the Lungs, or any complaint arising from "Taking Cold." Rheumatism Neu
ralgia. Lumbago, Sciatica. Pains in the Small ofthe Back, or anyotti'-rex
j ternal Pain, a few applications act like magic, causing the pain to initanrlv
i stop. All Internal Pains, Diarrhea, colic, Spasms, Nausea, Fainting Spells
i are relieved instantly ancl quicitiy cured by taking inwardly 20 to co Droos
in ahairtuiub!»n*f water. Fifiy Cents a Bottle. Sold by Druggists. Taken with
: RADWAY'S PILLS there is no better Cure or Preventive of Fever and Aaue
tbe Hogle. of tbe Wishing Gate, without
the aid of Cursty, Jemmy, Will and Tarn,
waa thus bappily and forever laid.
Imagine a household numbering 0,000
persons aud no women allowed any part
ia its management! Such is tbe case at
Dol ma llagtcbe palace ofthe Sultan. His
tnaiesty never uses a plate and seldom a
knife or fork, but tbe dinner services are
j of gold or silver.
«eiyi»MeFL£.Wi_
8111 fill il SI- 1 f
JY_ f\ cvcDV K-fiN who
jip*^\T KNOW the GR AND
M^ll^ TRUTHS:, the Plain
...W\A Will Fact"j the Old Secrets
• and the Isc-y Discoveries of Medical Science
; as applied to Married life, should write for
: our wonderful little book, called
i "PERFECT MANHOOD." To any earnest
: man we v.*ill mail oue copy fjutfrcly
: Free, in plain sealed cover. 4tA refuge
from She auackB.-' Address
; ERIE MEDICAL CO.. Buffalo. N.V,
■
i J^Kn£3j|Sijrany unnutural discharge---k*"
M^ftaliriifirftnteed not to stricture.
ileal <£&tate, <gtc.
Hmrn
THE OLDEST AND LEADINU
Heal Mate Houss
UK CENTRAL CALIFORNIA.
OFFICES:
1015 Fourth Street, - - Sacrament*
14 Montgomery St, - San Francisco
17 North First Street - - San lost
The past year has been in many
places outside of Sacramento a most
severe one from a financial standpoint.
The fevand small failures here demon
strate what the steady growth of a city
means: General prosperity and bright
prospects for its inhabitants. Sacra
mento real estate has not depreciated,
large sales and many of them have been
made and, while none of the boom fuss
has been made ot the busiuess done by
"we real estate men," the record for
1893 is not to be sneezed at. The out
look for 1894 -s bright in our line. That
means good times for everyone. Let
all have a good word for Sacramento.
WE HAVE to offer a piece of
good property facing the
City Plaza that the owner
desires to dispose of as
soon as possible. The lot is
80xSO with agood 3-story
dwelling. This is a desir
able property and location
for a dentist or physician.
The furniture ofthe dwell
ing can be purchased if
desired. It is so seldom
property in this part is
offered we doubt if this
piece will remain long
unsold.
WE HAVE several pieces of
Acreage Property near the
city limits, to exchange
for city property.
VVE also have property to ex
change for country prop
erty.
Money to Loan. Collections of
Rent and Interest. Conveyancing
Carefully Done. Insurance in
Good Fire Companies.
Edwin im i co,
SACRA _VT ENTO.
W. P. COLEMAN,
REAL ESTATE SALESROOM.
325 J STREET.
KOR SAU K.
L STREET.
i I Ig (o I
3520£ i I io
1 2 j\i ■•L*i • a
tfl "ft Si __ „ s !►-.
_ 5 £ 6P;£ 7 "» $1,100 103
B E a S 2 4-iioom \_
B § 0 _ -pwcUin* _
°* *soo f3
1 I
ALLEY. —
HERE WE OFFER YOU SOME VERY
Fine Building Lots, siz- 40x80, ia on©
of tiie best locations in the city. Elegant
dwellings surrounding this property. MUST
BF SOLD SOON. We can arrange satisfactory
payments for you. Ou AND SEE THEM.
MONEY XO l-OAINJ.
F*. BOHL. E. A. CROUCH.
COOLEY
Writes Insurance.
Sells Real Estate,
Loans Money, Beats Houses.
1013 FOURTH ST.. SACRAMEXTO.
lost jmla_i^_h:oo-D J
Easily, Quickly and Permanently Restored.
CZLEBRATID EXOLISU KSJSIDf
It is sold on a positiv-j jy _ J}
Ki-anutee to cure any _W G& Vj
form of nerrous pros- imil
tration or any disorder |
of the genital organ3of _F~m_\
either sex, caused ___tF&tsm
Before- by excessiro uso of After*
Tobacco, Alcohol or Opium, or on account
of youthful indiscretion or over Indulgence etc..
Dizxiness, Convulsions. Wakefulness. Headache,
Mental Depression. Softening of the Brain. Weal-
Memory, Bearing Down Pains. Seminal Weakness.
; Hysteria, Nocturnal Emissions, Spermatorrbcca,
Loss of Power and Impotency. wtici. if neglected,
may lead to premature old age and insanity.
Positively guaranteed. Price. $ 1.00 a box; 8 boxei
ior $5.00. Sent by mail on receiptof price. A written
1 guarantee furnished with overy $5.00 order received.
to refund the money if a permanmit oure is no.
•affected.
NERVIA MEDICLN'E CO., Detroit, Mich-
JOS. HAHN & CO.Fiftti ana Jsts. Agents.
! Metropolitan * Market,
S. W. COR. TWELFTH AND E STREETS.
SELLS MEAT CHEAPER THAN A»Y
othei; market in the city. Try it ana oe
convinced.
CONRAD SCH.EPF, Propr.
5