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Mystery No Longer Shrouds Farmous Centerville Ghost Wandering in the gloaming 'and "The Story of Mary Mac Lane," the Extracts from the latest literary the dawning in her search for ook that rivals Ella W eeler sensation disclose, the writ the• .awn in hWilcox's Famed prod ublions ,r's supernatural appearance the devil Miss MacLane ap- establishes dent ty of the er natural appeara peared as an apparition to the spectre. In her wanderings and her people of the suburb. "No vigils on the lonely wind people of the suburb. ",No 'Rest ,ýF' Ithe W/eary." swept mountain sides. M L' 'II'll no lounger enshroilds lthe ientlty of thil gh sl thai has hoii inteit I'iintervill o and the titd'.in e t miollntiiilni il4. Thl.s ghosIt iw.il only an unhailly girl Peilhing fill tt del vil und \\i s: MAiRY M.Incl.ANI. In hiir hopethless, tnni ld ning for:r, tfo a relincarnat'd., devil, tMiss M. ,l,;ne h iln.t wV.anderr'( d ilrulough t'entervll l lle. Sh11e hI: wandre l 1 ult lupon the Mhllnk nllOnllllIln s.ut'; she has overlookeed t ht ronf.s of Iutte; shl' h14 ttrudg11d, g.K ticulllal ing, through t ilh i atr iets Iitd 111 opein aiotn Ity In thit' dawning alil in the twiligllht, in the gliiliie of linaula) y and in tl th lii k ple have steen hir. I tusl d tol uch sights tl iy hi,. t isritiedl It it to suplt' natural. Now they know that It was thltl nitural. It is in her booik, "Th,' hitory if Mary a.I Lanei.'" that the Blilt girl has taIitly nrknowltidgli lithat '.Ii \: i tihi ghost. She hit. totl of ii'r wanVilin gs in s1lalch of the dvi\l. Her Confessions. There rite some aiii thii.r itartling iiad missions in her book. S1he does hit knots if they ar trlue. (nll Ionly l;i.s her \\itl tin coinfiessliii n litid hler ., l In olt-r.It lt ed assi..lu''I s lthalt .very torit in 11th botok is true; that t I Is a triltfull por trayal ,of her own life. Must not one bhiliev'i Mary Mlrll,anne? After a sort oi If ril'esu ofi her chirni t'rl, her life :itd h r tsurroulndiJngs, Mis Malliaeil says: J care neith'r for righlt tinor flr wrong - li' y i ons( len. l is nil. d yt Inlll Iis coii lntril i n ofa Ing gui ssv il vearsatility. I htlav\'l tiI reac l truly l tonderfu sta ] nt hll' ihl 0n r h i+t]l il lrli 1ll Mncth, t ball t of ails' r ilt , inm irbld, ui halppines4. I know' inys's.lf, fhl, very wetll. l I have tlttllln d l lan tl . tis t llltti lt It, il' ' in1eerd. Shate tune Min tit I 1, rp shallowl ., All this r' l. nstitti old Ic l ly. Illn , th(l''fu, te. thatl I anti qylite, <l ithe o0 . I hatv\' hluhted for ,'ln the suggesftin of al larll0 1 among the !,\-tlrul hundlretd ,et oil.s that I Jill iqtluaintanel -. 1lnt in viin. There itur pioptle of varyingt.b th ,re to nonei to romparle w\th fix'. F'urthlr in in her retma;rkatble book she tuti 'a thils adimil hsion: Si thn, yes. I find my'self at thils rt-.Ie of nonmuuidnd amil 190 years, a g,.ius, a, thi ,, a liar-a general moral vaga\ oln , a f'iol miir r 1,'l Isi, and a philuso. hel, r ill1 tie p ri'atetic school. Also I find that even this conmlnnatlon rin not mnike one happy. It serves, how t.V:l: to oup.y ny 'esatileo mhind, 1t Pith of Mystery. IHowver, Ithis has to deal with the so luton of th, t('.ntetrvllh. ghost mnyst.ery, ali 311ss Marlane',( conn.e 'tion with it, in her ramblnllis. HI-ler is lh h pith of the mystery; as mystery, is disciosed in her book: Some, timen In tlihe li 1st of the bright oces of tin ()rtober' I have iwalked for miles in the still high air unmder the ilue of the sky. The 'bilghtness of the day andtt the blue of the sky and the inom parable high airl have entered Into myl veins a:ted flow(ed with my red blood. T'hey have en:mtrateld Into every re-I nmote nierve-centct'r tand into the marrow of ily bonlles. At such a time this young body glows with life. \My ir,d blood flows swiftly and joy ously--in the midst of the brightness of October. My sound, sensitive liver rests gently with its thin yellow bile in sweet con tent. My calm, beautiful sto!;mach silently sings, as I walk, a song of peace, the while It thugs within itself the thymn that was my lunch. My lungs, saturated with mountain ozone and the perfume of tile pines, ex pand in continuous ecatacy. My heart heats like the music of Schumann, In easy, graceful rhythm with an undertolne of power. My very Intestine even 'basks content edly In its place like a snake int the hot dust, vibrating with conscious life. Has Sensitive Nerves. My strong and sensitive nerves are reeking antd swimmlling n11 sensuality like drunken little Blacchantes, gay anld gatl' landed In mud reveling. The entire wonderful, graceful mech anism of my woman's holdy has fallen at the time-like the 'onderflul, graceful mechanism of my woman's mind-- unlder the enchanting spell of a day In tc tober. "It is good," I think to myself, "oh, it is good to he all'ye! It is wondrously good to be a womann young in the full ness of nineteen springs. It is unutter ably lovely to be a healthy young animal living on this charmed earth." After I have walked for sevetrl hours I reach a region where the s ulphurl smoke has not penetrated, and I sit on the ground with drawn-up knlees and rest as the shadows lengthen. The Shado\vs lengthen e:tlly in Octob.hr. Presently I lie flat on my back itnd 0trt'tch tmy lithe slimness to its utmost like a mountaln lioness taking her cotn fort. I am intensely thankful to the devil for my two good legs and the full use of them under a short skirt, when, as now, they catry me out beyaond the pale of civilization away from tiresome dull people. There is nothing 'in the world that can become so maddeningly wearisome as people, people, people! Thanks the Devil. And so, devil, accept, 'for my two good legs, my sincerest gratitude. I lie on the ground for some minutes and medi tate Idly.. There is a worldful of easy, Indolent beautiful sensuality in the fig ure of a young woman lying on the ground under a warm setting sun, tA man may lie on the ground--but that Is as fart' as It goes. A man would go to lep, probsbly, like a dog or a pig. lie .vrnhtli rovii ,arrrir., I,,t'rhapsl--u nder the M tiltI w I l. 11111 theI I, It Inilil hats not it g4,1rl .ryoung fteminine il bod Ioy to fee'l awith, it relVl' Iint Itscel the Aplrtt rof aI wa'rn ,on t its Ie.i hi, aI ait da.y hli Jto't.Ier and Iai It t its fargivi' hin ffor htrlepinlg, and for 'norinr . \'len I ranain rier t1, aI l sitting pioslture aill Ith' h'iighllne.s Ims fu.n i lsed Itself to tlihe w-elt. It liart it yvlllw gtll lnamor over Ithe eartIh, It gtlaraiior not of joy, olIt of platrti.e, lar of htappliaaasrtr--hut otf' pleace. The youn.rag tlutu Ia' aatreis itilen giently in the l er a lhta still :ti l. ''i llt sage brtsll t aI the taill graai take on ia radtil nt ltuielne'Ss. The high hills of Montlna, i l ilt l dI.iitnl, alppular tenderir andt hlar-llgar. All II la'ie- -ipe ce. I thliik of thaI t Inaiiutll tl l Honl rng: "iweelI viole ofI Avera! how tailt oilhtl I arait Ihn ty rliraont at ti haide-. Iilt I iro lrirrt y) ulir g yet to thinik If teacrt. It a ill t peace thaI t I waniat. ea' e is I. r 441 aind .l. I atlt wailting for mIry Ixp.,riienre. I antll aillting tiell- ominag of thel' devil. I aal weary wivirary, andt, oh, I warnt memory, Its Iragialcii l' aVould stay with milel altw .aII'--r-rlhtayrs. Itinig mIn', devil, tay red -ky' Short ls it might the, Its imy red lie of sky' fror ontr hour and lake all, all- -everything I po.i!es. I.,e't mai keIp ray thapi"ntriles, for one slrterLt hourr . aiitl ta ke tue riry atll from i an t for 'ever. I will ib .tutit.rtled whien niught hats coaale ,art e'verything la grone. Shows Impatience. (il, I i.watll you, devil, in a wild frenrzy of illl l ycil e! And rils I hurrly barck through Itllr cool MISS MARY MAC LANE. Posed Specially for The Inter Mountain. darkness of O(,tobebr, I 'feel this frenzy In every lII.r of my fervid womann's body. That the girl longs for her Satanic friend is disrclosed in this mnessage: And there 1a that kind of happiness which is of the red suneet sky. There' is soomething terrible inl the thought of this indesxrlibable mad happiness. \Vhat a thing it is for a human being to be happy -with the red, red happiness of the sutn set sky! It's like a terrifltl storm in sumnmtltttr with rain and wind, beating quiet water Inllto ild waves, bedig great Itrees to the ground|-cotntvulsltng the greent earth with delliouts piin. It's like something of Schuabert's plaved on the violin that stirs you within to exqulsite torture. It's like the h tllln n voice divine sing lng a Sc'tch balllad in a manner to dragl your' .oul fro't yourt body. But thtere are no words to tell It. It is olnething infinittely above and beyonld w\ords. It is the kind of happiness the devil will bring to mie whIent he comles to I(,, to Illt! ih, wbhy does he not come no\\w when I al in tihe midst of lmy youlthi? \hy is he so long in corlning? Startling Admissions. Somelntlhat startllng are her atdlls slons, all of which sthe det.al'aes are true tof her, as, for instatnce, this: L There ate Ipersolns who say to Ite that I ought lno to think of the devil, that I c ought not to think of happiness--happi 1 ness for me \ ould ib sure to trean somle , thing ' wiked (as if happiness could ever be wicked!); that I ought to think of a being good. I ought to think of God. e These are petsotns who help to 1111 lthe y world with fools. At any rate their words are unable to affect nte. I can not distinguish between right lutd wrong In this scheme of things. It Is otn of the lines of reasoning in which I have gotten 0 to the edge, the end. I have gotten to the point to which all logic fioally leads. I can only say, What is wrong? W\hat is right? What is good? What Is evil? e The words are merely words, with word. m, anings. S Iouading on, one finds she lifts the one 0 tain on the t'egterville gha,t mystery a e bit higher and one reads: low Mary MacLane tidled flu man Nature. ()n the ('enterville hill overloo I utte a ghostly form was seen by wayfllrers after nightfall a year he supposed apparition was seen several times during the month.4 of eh, and April. The excitement created by the ghostly visitor has haJ but 'ne "parallel in Butte's recent history the advent of Mary MactL'ne ihnto the,public gaz'e. I:xcellent authority from a source close to the confidences of the author of "The Story of Mary MacLane" Is responsible for the statement that the ghlostly form seen flitting across the bleak hill north of Butte 18 months ago was no other titan the weird girl whose love for things erie led her to venture out in the c'harIacter of a phantom wanderer of the night. Storien are told of the wild vagarles of the young writer. It is related that she clings to the belief that Inspiration can be gained by midnight rambles on the hills neur iutte and that she frequently Is miles away from home before sunrise to catch the first glimpse of the dawn as It flashes acrcss the eastern pielks. While liutte In agog with the fasc'inntlng theme of this young woman's utniqlcue personality the story that seelms to be most generally credited by her Intimate friends is the one that tells of her first successfull effort tc amaze th(e people of Ililtte by play ng ghost. The second venture In stlmulatilrg the public mind to dizziness seems to the the rc-sult of her success In proving that the mysterious, the unexpected and the unreal are the elements which go to make up a real Aensatlon. Today I walked far away over the sandt in the teeth of It bitter winds The wind was determined that I should turn and comle back, and equally I was deter. tmined I would go oil. I went on. All these wandering.., an has been ex Iplained, were In search of hapliness and a self-comnnunlon with the devil, and, In Ih114 co'nelctlonl the girl ay.vs: ; I c.an think of no no-called vile deed that I would scruple about It I could be happy. Everything is justilied Ir it giveg me happiness. The devil has done mb some great favors-he has made me without a conscience, and without virtue. l"or which I thank thee, devil. At least I shall be atble to take by hap ,piness when It comes-even though the piles of nice distinctlonr between it and mei he moaintains high. Early Ghost Stunt. Apparently Miss M'acLane was wont to lo a ghost stunt when she was much younger, for, speakingof her childhood, she says: When I was a child I lived in (Canada ald in Minnesota. I was a little wild savage. In Minnesota there were swamps where I used to wet my feet in the spring, and there were fields of tall grales where I would lie flat on my stomach In company with lizards and little garter sn'lkee. And there were poplar trees that turned their pale green backs up ward on a hot afternoon, and soon there would be terrific thunder and lightning allnd rain. And there were robins that sang at dawn. These things stay with one always. F'asmodically Miss MacLane breaks out in her cries to the d'eviI, One of these plicturesque spisIns follows: 'Periodlcally I fall completely, madly In love with the devil. Ihe Is so fascl~ nating, so strong-so strong, exactly the sort of man whom my wooden heart awaits. I would like to throw myself at his head. I would make him a dear littld wife. He would love me-he would love me. I would he in raptures. And r would love him, oh, madly, madly! "What would you have nme do, littlq Ma.cLane?" the devil would say. "1 would have you conquer me, crus. me, know me," I would answer. "What shall I say to you?" the devil woul" ask. "Say to me, 'I love you, I love you, I love you,' In your strong, steel fascln'at lig voice. Say It to me often, always-J a million times." e "What would you have me do, little MacLane?" he would say again, Idea of Happiness. I would answer: "Hurt me, burn me, consume me with hut love, shake me violently, embrace me hard, hard in your strong steel arms, kiss me with won derful burning kisses-press your lips to mine with passion, and your soul and mine would meet them in an anguish of joy for me!" "How shall I treat you, little Mac Lane?" ."Treat me cruelly, brutally." "'How long shall I stay with you?" "Through the life everlasting-lt will be as one day; or for one day-it will be as the life everlasting." <"And what kind of childi'en will you ar me, little MacLane?" he would say. 'I will bear wonderful, beautiful chil dren--with great pain." "3But you hate pain," the devil will say, "and when you are In your pain you viJll hate me." "But no," I will answer, "pain that comes of you whom I love will be in effable exaltation." "''And how will you treat me, little Mac Lane?" "I will cast myself at your feet: or I will minister to you with divine tender ness; or I will charm you with fantastic deviltry; when you weep, I will melt Into tears; when you rejoice, I will go wild with delightt when you go deaf I will stop my ears; when you go blind, I will put out my eyes; when you go lame I ,'Will cut off my legs. Oh, I will be inelyy dea~ unutterably sweet!" In sle~lsy "'arse rarely sweet," the ,dovil will say. And 1 will be in trans ports. *.Qh, devil, devil, devil! dh, mtsery, misery of nothingness! The days are long-long and very weary as I wait the devil's coming. One cannot wonder that "little Mac Lane" wandered in Centerville and vicin ity when prosaic and unimaginative peo ple of Butte believe the devil is in that vicinity. Loves Man Devil. Here is where she sheds nm're light on the famous ghost mystery: Today I walked over the hill where the sun vanishes down in the afternoon. I followed the sun so far as I coul], but two even very good legs can do no more than carry one into the midst of the sunshine-and then one may stand and take leave, lovingly of it. I stood in tpe valley below the hill ant looked away at, the gold-yellow moumn taine that rise into the cloudy blue, alltl at the long gray stretche of rolling sand. It all reminded me of the devil and the happiness he will bring me. Dome day the devil will c'ome to me and say: "Come with me." And I will answer: "Yes." And he will take me away with him to a place where it is wet and green- Where the yellow, yellow sunshine falls on heaven-kis'ing hills, and misty, cloudy masses float over the valleys. And for days I shall be hanov--happy '-happy! For days! The devil and I will love ! . . * jr.~ . 4 ome of Nary MacLane, No. 419 North Ezoelsior Avenue, Butte. each other intensely, perfectly-for days! He will be incarnate, but he will not be a man. He will be the man-devil, and his soul will take mine to Itself and they will be one-for days. Imagine me raised, out of my misery and obscurity, dullness and nothingness; into the full, brilliant life of the devil for days! The love of the man-devil will enter Into my barren, barren life and melt all the cold, hard things, and water the bar renness, and a million little green grow ing plants will start out of It; and a clear, sparkling spring will flow over it through the dreary, sandy stretches of my bitterness, among the false, stony roadways of my pain and hatred. And a great rushing, flashing cataract of melting love will flow over my weariness and unrest and wash it away forever. My soul will be fully awakened and there will he a million little sweet new souls in the green-growing thingq. And they will fill my life with everything that Is beau tiful-tenderness, and divineness, and compassion, and exaltation, and uplft ing grace, and light, and rest, and gentle ness, and triumph, and truth, and peace. My life will be borne f,r out of self, and self will sink quietly out of sight--and I shall see it farther and further away, until It disappears. "It Is the last-the last-of that Mary MacLane," I will say, and I will feel a long, quivering farewell. A thousand years of misery-and now a million years of happiness. When the sun is setting in the valley and the crests of those heaven-kissing hills are painted violet and purple, and the valley Itself is reeking and ailm ming in yellow-gold light, the man-devil -whom I love more than all-and I will go out into it. We will be saturated in the yellow light of the sun and the gold light of love. The man-devil will say to me: "Look, you little creature, at this beautiful pic ture of joy and happiness. It is the pie ture of your life as It will be while I stay with you-and I will stay with you for days." Ah, yes, I will take a last, long fare well of this Mary MacLane. Not one faint shadow of her weary wretched nothingness will remain. There will be instead a brilliant, buoy ant, Joyous c('reature - transformed, adorned, garlanded by the love of the devil. My mind will he a treasure-house of art, swept and garnished and strong and at Its best. Whew! Read This. My barren, hungry heart will come at last to Its own. The red Ilames of the maen-devil's love will hurnl out forever its pitiable, distorted, woo den quality, and he will take it and c.herish it-and give me his. M.y young w'ornan's-hody likewise will be metlmorphosed, and I shall feel it developing anust tilled with myriads of little contentments and pleasuro s. Al ways my young-woman's hbody is a great and important part of lIe, and when I am married to the devil its finely-organ Ized nerve-power and Intri.ate senlsibilty will he culminated to marvelous comn pleteness. My soul--upon my soul will descend consclously the light that never was on land or sea. This will be for days---for dlays. No Ilatter what camnle Iefore, I will say; no matter whait conlies afterward. ,lu't now it is the man-devil, my best beloved, and I, living In the yellow light. Think of nie living with the devil in a bare little house, in the midst of green wetness and sweetness anld yellow light fr dlays! In the gray dawn It will be ineffably s.aeet and beautiful, with shining leaves and the gray, ullfthomalle air, a, . the wet grass, and all. He happy now., my weary little wife," tihe devil will say. And the long, long yellow-gold day will be illed with the music of real life. My grandest possibility will be realized. The world contains u great many things -and this is my grandest possibillty real ized! And in the soft black night I will lie by the side of the man-devil-and my head will rest in the hollow of his dhoulder, and my hand will be clasped in his hand. I will weep rapturous tears. When I think of all this and write it there is in me a feeling that is more than pain. Perhaps the very sweetest, the tender est, the most pitiful and benign human voice in the world aould sing these things and this feeling 'set ,to their own won dious music--and it would echo far tur,-and you would understand. Here is where she shows her presence in what Mr. Jags calls "the cold gloom of the early morning": Often In the early morning I leave my bed and get me dressed and go out into the gray dawn. There Is something about the gray dawn that makes me wish the world would stop, that the sun would never more come up over the edge, that my life would go on and on and rest In the gray dawn. In the gray dawn every hard thing is hidden by a gray mantle of charity, and only the light, vague, caressing fancies are left. Now that the Centervllle ghost mystery has been effectually dlslpated, it will no doubt be interesting to learn of UMIs MaoLane's impressions of the oity that is proud and made famous to call her a resident. In part, this Is what she say: The town of Butte presents a wonder ful field to a student of humanity and human nature. There are not a great many people-70,000 perhaps-but those 70,000 are In their way unparalleled. For mixture, for mlscellany-varlpdness, Bo hemlanlsm--where is Butte's rival? -The population Is not only of all na tionalities and stati one, but the nation alitles and stations mix and mingle pro mlscuously with each other, and are partly revealed In the mazes of a veneer that belongs neither to nation nor to sta tion, but to Butte. Shot at Butte. The nationalities are many, it Is true, but Trish and Cornish predominate. My acquaintance extends widely among the Inhabitants of Butte. Sometimes when I feel In the mood for it I spend an afternoon In visiting among divers curl-' ous Peoole. At some Fourth of July demonstration, or on a Miners' union day, ,the heteroge neous herd turns out-and I turn out, with the herd and of It, and meditate and look on. There are Irishmen-Kelleys, Caseys, Callahans, staggering under the weight of much whisky, shouting out their green-isle maxims;.there is the fes tive Cornishman, ogling and leering, greeting his fellow-countrymen with al c'oholl .heartiness and gazing after every feminine creature with lustful eyes; there are Irish women swearing genially at each other In shrill pleasantry and five or six loudly-vociferous children for each; there are round-faced Cornish women likewise, each with her train of children; there are suave, sleek sporting men just out of the bath tub; insignifi cant lawyers, dentists, m'essenger boys; "plung'i's" without number; greasy Ital Ians from Meaderville; greasier French people from the B3oulevarde addition; ancient miners-each of whom was the first to stake a claim in Butte; starvod looking Chinamen here and there, a con tingent of Finns and Swedes and Ger mans; musty, stuffy old Jew pawn brokers who have crawled out of their holes for a brief recreution; dirt-encrust ed Indians and squaws, in dir'v, gay blankets, from th-ir flea-haunted camp below the town; "box-rustlers"-who are as common in Butte as barmaids in Ire land; swell, flashy-looking Africans; re spectaile women with white aprons tied around their waists and sailor hats on their heads, who have stepped out to see w.hat was going on; innumerable stray youngsters from the dark haunts of Dub lin 4lulch; heavy restaurant-keepers wit?. toothpicks in their mouths; a vast army of dry-goods clerks-the "paper collared" gentry; miners of every de scription; representatives from Dog Town, Chicken Flats, Bustervllle, Butch ertown, and Seldom Seen-suburbs of Butte; pale, thin individuals who sing and dance in beer halls; smart society people in high traps and tally-bus; Ian possible women-so-called (though In Butte no one is more possible), 'in vast hats and extremely plaid stockings; per sons who take things seriously and play the races for a living; "heer-Jerkers"; "biscuit-shooters"; soft-voiced Mexicans and Arabians-the dregs, the elite, the humbly respectable, the offscouring- - ll thrown together, and shaken up, and mixed well. Caustic Remarks. There is much more about Butte. There are some caustic remarks about the "mysterious widow with one child," who moves Into a house and creates com ment in the neighborhood and who "silently and stealthlily disappears," and of a "house whose occupants seem to be five men and one woman" who turn night into day. It Is in her meditations that she asserts that she always sits "with my feet on the bureau-always on the bureau"-and rather quaint is her description when she takes the reader into her bedroom and shows him just how she has thought out her thoughts and just how she has writ ten these thoughts. Speaking of her flirting with death by an unused well, she says: Death Is fascinating-almost 'like the devil. Death makes use of all his at ts and wiles, 'powerful and alluring, and flirts with deadly temptation for me. And I make use of my arts and wiles and tempt him. Death would like dearly to have me. and I would like dearly to have him. It is a flirtation that has its source in mutual desire. We do not 'love each other, death and I-we are not friends. But we desire each' other sensually, lust fully, Sometime I suppose I shall yield to the desire. I merely play at it now-but in an unmistakable manner, Death knows it is only a question of time. But first the devil must come. First the devil, then death; a deep, dark, sooth ing grave-and the early evening, "and .a bittle folding of the hands to sleep." Again--., But' the Centerville ghost mystery is solve d!