in the rear, through which I had entered. Occupying half the floor on the right was the parlor; and the light of my fire, shining through the open doors, enabled me to see dimly its extent and height. Leading to the second story was a wide staircase, up which I went, lighted by a brand from the burning bench, at the imminent risk of setting fire to the whole concern. Another hall, with a full-length window at each end, and four large chambers, two on each side, constituted the arrangement of that floor. The sudden extinguishing of my torch by a gust of wind prevented my making an examination of the extension. I was satisfied, however, that I was the sole occupant of my castle; and, fastening the doors at either end of the entrance of the hall, and the shutters in the room where I designed spending the night, I returned to my fire; and, with the sense of comfort, warmth and security which one feels when the fire blazes within and the storm rages without, I finished my pipe, watched the glowing embers, 66 -dreamed the dream

That young ambition weaves,"

and finally fell into the sound sleep which follows a hard day's work.

I must have slept several hours, when I suddenly awoke; and, like most staff officers, accustomed to being awakened at all hours of the night by alarms, dispatches, coming and going orderlies, I was wide awake and in full possession of all my faculties as soon as I opened my eyes. I was vaguely conscious of having been awakened by some noise; yet was unable to decide what that noise had been. The fire had burned low. I threw on the remnants of the bench, and poked it into blaze. I looked at my watch; it was half-past one. The rain had ceased, and the wind no longer howled through the broken windows of the old mansion. The silence was so deep as to be oppressive. I tried to compose myself once more to sleep; but I was wide awake; a vague sense of uneasiness had taken possession of me; I filled my pipe once more, resolved to try the narcotic effects of tobacco upon what I considered over weariness. As I was on the point of lighting it, I heard a noise outside as if some one were trying to get into the little shed where my horse was stabled. Thinking some straggling and unhorsed cavalryman, attracted by the light of my fire, had discovered my retreat, and was seeking after the manner of those unselfish patriots to provide himself with a mount at my expense, I took my revolver, in the use of which I was by no means a novice, unfastened the back door and stepped quietly out. It was still particularly cloudy, but the waning moon gave light enough to show me the shed, with its door fastened as I had left it; but my horse, as docile and well-trained an animal as I ever saw, quiet under fire, not frightened at anything, was moving around restlessly in his narrow quarters, and seemed to be under the influence of some excitement. I spoke to him loudly, calling him by name; he whinnered slightly and was more quiet. Still mindful of marauding cavalrymen, I thought perhaps some one might have concealed himself behind the shed. I walked out and looked carefully around the whole place.

Not a living creature was visible. Convinced that I was still in undisturbed possession, I returned to my blankets and fire. But I could not sleep. The sense of impending danger from some mysterious source grew stronger and stronger, until it became intolerable. Just as I was about to

rise, go out and endeavor to shake off in the open air the awful depression that had taken possession of me, I heard light footsteps in the room above. With every sense strained to the utmost, I listened. The footsteps seemed now to proceed from the dividing wall between my apartment and the front one; but, before I could fully decide where they were, the door of which I have spoken as resisting my efforts to open it, did open-opened slowly, and obsolutely without noise; and through that open door, which as silently closed behind it, came a— - Bodiless Human Head! But with the accompanying sounds of actual footsteps-the same light and firm steps I had heard that head advanced into the middle of the room, and paused, without seeming to notice me. The face, that of a very handsome, but dissipated-looking man, was fixed upon the door leading to the hall.

I do not think that I am possessed of less than the average courage of mankind. I had faced a good many perils before without any particular emotion. But as I stood for I had grasped my revolver and started to my feet as the door opened—as I stood and looked upon that head, with its long, black, wavy hair, its white face and drooping moustache, eyes black and piercing, their black brows almost meeting in the awful scowl that disfigured the whole face, I must admit that I was paralyzed. I could only look-look with starting eyes at this apparition of a bodiless head.

It advanced, as I said, to the center of the room, paused and then looked down as if in sudden thought. The eyes did not seem to see me, nor was the being conscious of my presence in the room. By a mighty effort, such as we make when, knowing that we dream, we strive to awaken from a nightmare, only far more intense--in short, by summoning all my will, I broke the spell which terror seemed to have thrown over me, raised the revolver I still held, took deliberate aim at the head, only a few feet distant, and fired. Then, and only then, did the eyes turn toward me, with a look in which hate, ferocity, and fear seemed blended— a look I have since seen sometimes in awful dreams-then it turned towards the hall, and with a few distinct, rapid footsteps, gained the back door, which I had shut and refastened, opened it and passed through, out into the darkness, closing the door behind.

The spell once broken, I was a man again. Springing to the door, I essayed to open it. It was fast. Seizing the handle with both hands, and placing my foot on the woodwork at the side, I put all the strength I possessed into one tremendous pull. As well pull at the solid wall. I heard the rapid gallop of a horse, and, hastening to the front door, opened it and sprang through, ran to the place where my horse was, found the door of the shed thrown down, and the animal quivering with terror in the farthest corner of the little stable. I quieted the horse, shut him up again, went back to the house, and waited resolutely for the sequence. Nothing further occured.

When the head first appeared, I do not think that I was conscious of any mental operation. In thinking it over afterward in the vain endeavor to account for it, I recalled the features, and remembered a semi-circular scar over the left eye, as if cut by a fall. The head was nobly shaped, the face of delicate and aristocratic features, but marred by the traces of dissipation and passion. Visible only to the neck, it seemed to fade into nothing. Once, indeed, I thought I detected the shadowy body of a man,

clothed in black; it was only a shadow, and faded almost in an instant. The head I saw; the steps I heard; and the look I shall remember as long as I remember anything.

I stood there, leaning on my heavy cavalry saber, revolver in hand, for two hours or more, waiting. All was unbroken stillness. Finally I threw myself once more upon my blankets; and half lying, half sitting, drowsiness stole over me, and I fell asleep. When I awoke, the sun was streaming in through the cracks in the shutters and the rest of the house was flooded with fear-dispelling sunlight.

I at once made a thorough and careful examination of the building. In addition to what I had discovered the night before, in the brief and cursory examination I then made, I found a narrow stairway leading from the room above the one in which I had passed the night down to this door which, as before stated, I could not open; some spring or catch so carefully hidden in the wall as to elude my search, held it as firmly as if nailed. From the room over the back parlor, a door opened upon a narrow staircase leading up to the attic where there were four large rooms, the ceilings slanting nearly down to the floor, conforming to the shape of the roof. A narrow passage led out to the extension, which had three rooms. At the end of the passage nearest the main building was another flight of stairs leading down to the lower rooms of the extension, of which the first and largest, evidently a dining-room, connected with the parlor by double floors. Back of that was a kitchen, and there a smaller room, perhaps a laundry. The house seemed to have been built at different times, as new wants demanded additions to the original plan. It was an unusually large one, with abundance of ample closets, and with an open fire-place in each It had evidently been occupied by people of wealth and refinement. Marks of pictures, and drapery, still remained in the many picture-nails in the walls and an old cornice or two above the windows. No investigation of the mansion, however, brought anything to light which would elucidate the mystery in the slightest degree.

room.

There was no furniture save such as would be fit for fuel only. The parlors, and in fact all the rooms, were high and spacious, and once had been very handsome. But the wind and rain had made bad work; the plaster had fallen in many places, the woodwork was dark and weatherstained. A long double row of negro quarters, with sugar-house and all the outbuildings, was visible through the trees. I found nothing which would serve as a clue to the occupants of the house. All was desolate and forlorn, dropping to pieces for want of care.

I looked once more in the room of my adventure, and found without difficulty where my revolver ball had buried itself in the woodwork of the window-frame. Going out to the shed, I saddled and bridled my horse, and rode away from the house, with mingled feelings of curiosity and relief.

The afternoon of that day brought the hard-fought fight at Sabine Cross-roads. At the close of the battle both armies fell back. The next day saw the harder fight at Pleasant Hill. The rapid retreat of the Federal forces to Grand Ecore, where their supplies were, and the many official duties devolving upon me, in returns of wounded and missing, gave me little time to think of my bodiless visitor. I despaired of ever know

Ing anything further of the house or the family which had abandoned it. But a few days after, upon our continued retreat to Alexandria, while riding thoughtfully along, I saw among some Confederate prisoners an old college class-mate of mine, who came to Harvard from the South, and immediately upon graduation had returned, intending to practice medicine. He was in the uniform, faded and worn, of a surgeon of the Confederate army, and was generously sharing the vicissitudes of war with his companions, many of whom were in need of his professional care. I rode up to him, dismounted and walked along by his side, renewing an old and pleasant friendship.

In the course of the conversation, I took occasion to call his attention to the house, which I described to him, without telling anything of the events of that memorable night, asking him if he knew anything of its owners, or why so fine a property should be suffered to go to ruin.

A sad look came into his gray eyes, as he replied slowly, that it used to belong to a rich planter, whose only daughter and heiress was married to a man of good family from New Orleans. A tall and singularly handsome fellow, but with a most ungovernable temper, and very dissipated. They lived happily together for a time; but the mania for gambling was too strong to be resisted; he lost much of his wife's money, and there were rumors among the house servants of very violent scenes between the two. The husband would come up from New Orleans and demand money which he required to pay his "debts of honor". One night the servants heard him ride up to the house on his thorough-bred black horse, about mid-night; he fastened his horse to a little carriage-house in the rear and sought his wife's room, by means of a stairway which led directly to it from the sitting-room. High words ensued, followed by a scream and heavy fall. The husband was heard to rapidly descend the stairway, and to gallop away from the house. Upon hastening to her room, the startled servants found her lying upon the floor, dead, her night-dress crimsoned with a little trickling stream of blood, from a very small wound over her heart.

"I had been practising in the neighborhood for some time," said the doctor, "and was immediately summoned; but the poor girl was beyond earthly help. Her husband in his furious rage had stabbed her with a slender little dagger that was more a plaything than a weapon. was quick and sure; and death must have been nearly instantaneous.” "What became of the husband?”

The blow

"He was pursued; but in the excitement much time had been lost, and he reached New Orleans, where he was shot dead in a duel the day after reaching there. He had had some quarrel with his antagonist about a lady; the affair was hushed up, both victim and offender having passed beyond the reach of human vengeance. It is probable that his errand home was to procure money, and that something was said by him which revealed his infidelity to her, and led her to refuse to accede to his demands. Thwarted in this, and doubtless maddened with brandy, his fury knew no bounds, and in his frenzy he killed her with a single blow."

"What was he like? Was he dark or light?" said I, very curious to find an owner for the head.

"Well," said my friend, gravely stroking his tawny moustache, "there was a very devilish beauty about the man; he was tall and dark, with long

black hair, and a very heavy moustache. His eyes were very large, dark and piercing. He very nearly lost one of them, by being struck with a heavy goblet thrown by one of his drunken companions. It made a semicircular wound which cut his left eyebrow almost in two."

"You knew him very well, then"? said I.

"Yes," answered the surgeon, with a slight sigh, "very well, and to my sorrow. His dark beauty and his accomplishments-he excelled in all most everything-dazzled women; and he won from me the only woman I ever cared for."

Sorry as I was at having broached a subject which must have been so fraught with pain to the bronzed and self-contained man who walked at my side, I could not abstain from one other question:

"And the place?"

"The place was sold. But strange stories got wind, and the superstitious negroes would not stay in the house. Just before the war broke out, there came some one to look at the property with a view to buying. They stayed there one night, but left the next morning. The plantation was cultivated, but the mansion was suffered to fall to ruin. I suppose by this time it is uninhabitable."

I

It proved to be more literally true than the doctor had supposed. saw him the next day, when he told me, abruptly referring to the subject, that the mansion had been burnt; whether by a stray shell or by the hand of some straggling soldier, his informant did not know.

And so there was nothing left but a heap of ashes to mark the spot

where I saw my first and, I trust, my last ghost.

The National Stenographer's Prize Story. No.2. This Story Won the Second Prize of $25. AN UNEXPECTED RESULT.

T WAS with many misgivings that Essie Everett kissed her mother good-bye and started out one fine morning in May to call at a down-town business house in answer to an advertisement that had appeared in the paper the evening before. The wholesale house of Scott, Dunham & Co., dealers in silks and fine laces, wanted a stenographer and typewriter, and, to a young lady of requisite ability, would give steady employment and a fair salary. It would appear to be a very desirable position and Esssie felt sure as far as speed and accuracy were concerned she could fill it satisfactorily, but she had made so many efforts in the last few weeks to recure employment and, to her timid application and modest avowel of qualifications, had met every where much the same reponse: "Too young. We must have some one with experience who can give us firstclass references, as our interests are large and important and we cannot afford the time necessary to instruct a stenographer in business forms." Or, "We expect to get some one who understands not only shorthand and typewriting but all kinds of office work, one who is willing to help on the books, address envelopes and make herself generally useful. We will pay $5.00 or $7.00 a week to one who can do the work."

How many stenographers now filling responsible and profitable positions in the reat business world can look back to experiences like this when they were "young and