AT THE MERCY OF A LUNATIC.

Hot Lakes Chronicle, Volume 3, Issue 143, 28 August 1895, Page 2

AT THE MERCY OF A LUNATIC.

I was tired, footsore, hungry and sleepy, as I halted at the door of a wayside house. The tenement was not over-promising; but the night was eold and wet, and with no other shelter in view, I determined to knock and ask for lodgings. I knocked softly and waited, but then? was no response, i knocked again somewhat balder, hut all was still and silent. Again I raised my hand, but before iny knuckles reached the panel I was roughly precipitated through the door, and deposited on my back in the centre of the room. I looked round to ascertain the meaning of the extraordinary behaviour, and the sifiht that met my gaze I shall never forget. There before me stood a, grinning lunatic, with cross eyes, bristly hair, and the stature of a giant. The grin was hideous and terrifying, and the huge mouth and large white teeth suggested a deputation of milestones conferring in a tunnel. His nails were long and elaw-like, and his black bushy hair stood erect. "Now." said he, "you see the uncertainty of life ! A moment ago, you were outside ; now you are inside. A moment ago you were on your feet, noiy you are on your back. Now you are alive ; in a. minu+G you may be dead. Life is uncertain." I felt the full force of the latter remark, as I met the mad eyes of my ferocious host.

"Well! What brings you here!-" he asked. I explained that I was a stranger in want of shelter for the night, for which I would willingly pay. 'i You've got money have you? Well, turn it up to me." he demanded : " I am collecting coins." T saw from the first that I was at the merev of a madman; and as the little coin I possessed wns not worth risking iiiv life for. I turned it out. After carefully examining the coins be tossed them into a tin hard by. and turning round locked the door and put. the key in his pocket. Turning abruptly upon me and grasping my arm with iin iron grip, he asked. " Can you sit on the ceiling?"

I replied that I was sorry, but I could not. " You can't !" be roared in terrifying tones. " Why, look at yon fly, how calmly "lie sits; surely you can go one more than a flv ! Whv, my father sat on the ceiling all his life—which was five score and ton years—and would have been there yet, only that lie got down to go to his funeral and forgot to return."

At first I thought lie was speaking facetiously but a glance was sufficient to prove my error : While the foam issued from his mouth be roared in fearful tones —" You were laughing ! By tho terrible flames of hades anil the imps that dance in the smoke, I saw you !" This portentous change in his demeanour terrified me. I averred that I had not been laughing, but the explanation was superfluous: he had forgotten the accusation, and once; more the fearful grin stole o'er his face. "To bod !" he cried.

I looked hastily round. I could see that the next, and only other ror m contained but. one bed. I shuddered; I looked towards the windows ; they were fixtures : the key was in his pocket, and I knew not what moment, his knife would be in my heart. I would have hesitated, but I dtired not to rouse his anger; so I resolved to obey, and meet my fate with as much resignation as possible. For hours after I retired, my persecutor remained in the outer room, seated in the corner, nearest my door, peering at me through a crack in the wall. At length he entered the room on tiptoe, grinding bis teeth horribly as be stealthily approached tho bod. He glnred at me for m moment, nnd then on (ill fours crept, to iii. other side of the room, still grinding his teeth as he proceeded to open a box, from which lie brought forth a dirty pack of cards. Spreading these on the floor, on which he was sitting, and with the light from the other room flickering on his horrible comitenanee. bo proceeded to read them. I knew what it meant, and my heart sickened as he. grinned and frowned alternately. At length he arose, with froth hanging in festoons from his beard, and said to himself, in a growling undertone—■" Thou sleepy son of Morpheus, thy fate is death."

For a moment ho loft the room. I made a desperate plunge for the window, but with the ferocity and ajrility of a tiger he was upon mo, and I know no more.

fmch was ono of many horrible droams that harassed my miserable existenee while suffering from a diseased liver. I consulted physicians far and wide, but got no relief until I tried warner's safe cure with the most satisfactory results.