PART I.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume XXII, Issue 7767, 11 June 1887, Page 6

PART I.

THE FIBST PHANTOM.

Don't tell me that it wasn't a knocker. I had seen it often enough, and I ought to know.. So ought the three-o'clock beer, in dirty high-lows, swinging himself over the railing, or executing a demoniaoal jig upon the doorstep ; so ought the bntoher, although butchers as a general thing are scornful of such trifles ; so ought the postman, to whom knockerß of the most extravagant description were merely human weaknesses, that were to be pitied and nsed. And so ought, for the matter of that, &o. &0., &o.

But then it was sucJt a knooker. A wild, extravagant, and utterly inoonprehenaible knocker. A knockr so mysterious and suspicions that Policeman X 37, first coming upon it, felt inclined to take it instantly in custody, but compromised with his professional Instincts by sharply and Bternly noting it with an eye * at admitted of no nonsense but confidently expected to detect its secret yet. An ugly knocker — a knooker with a hard human face that was a type of the harder human face within ; a human face that held between its teeth a brazen rod. So hereafter, in the mysterious future, should be held, &c, &o.

Bnt if the knooker had & fierce hnman aspect id the glare of day you should have seen it at night, when it peered oat. of the gathering shadows and suggested an ambushed figure; when the light of the street lamps fell upon it and wrought a play of sinister expression in its hard outlines"; when it seemed to wink meaningly at a shrouded figure who, as the night fell darkly, crept np the steps and passed to the mysterious house ; when the swinging door disolosed a black passage into •which the figure seemed to lose itsslf and become a part of the mysterious gloom ; when the night grew boist3rous and the fierce wind made furious charges at the knocker as if to wrench it off and carry it away in triumph. Such a night as this.

It was a wild and pitiless wind. A wind that bad commenced life as a gentle conntry zephyr, bnt wandering through manufacturing towns had become demoralised, and reaching the city Lad plunged into extravagant dissipation and wild excesses. A roystering wind that indulged in Bacchanalian uhoutßonthe street corners, that knocked off the hats from the heads of helpless passengers, and then fulfilled its duties by speeding away, like all young prodigals, to sea. He sat alone in a gloomy library listening! to the wind that roared in the chimney. Around him novels and storybooks were strewn thickly ; in his lap he held one with its pages freshly cut, and turned the leaves wearily until his eyes zested upon a portrait in its frontispiece, And as the wind howled the more fiercely, and the darkness without fell blacker, a strange and fateful likeness to that portrait appeared above Mb chair and leaned upon his shoulder. The Haunted Man gazed at the portrait and sighed. The figure gazed at the portrait and sighed too. " Here again 1" said the Haunted Man.

" Here again," it repeated in- a low

voice. " Another novel?" " Another novel." "The old story?" "The old Btory."

"I see a child, "said the Haunted Man, gazing from the pages of the book into the fire ; •? a most unnatural child — a model infant. ■ It is prematurely old and fhilosophio ; it dies in povery to slow music ; it dies with an accompaniment of golden water and rattling carts to slow music. Previous to its decease it makes a will ; it repeats the Lord's Prayer; it kisses the 'boofer lady.' That child "

" Is mine,", said the phantom,

"I ace a good woman — undersized. I see several charming women, but they are all undersized. They are more or less imbecile and idiotic bnt always fasoinating and undersized. They wear coquettish capa and aprons. I observe that feminine virtue is invariably below the medium iieight and that it is always simple and infantine. These women "

" Are mine."

"I see a haughty, proud, and wicked lady. She is tall and queenly. I remark that all proud and wicked women are tall and queeenly. That woman — -r-"

"Is mine," said the phantom, wringing hie hands. "I see several things continually impending. I observe that whenever an accident, a murder, or death is about to happen, there ia something in the furniture, in the locality, in the atmosphere, that foreshadows and suggests it years in advance. I cannot say that in real life I have noticed it— the perception of this surprising fact belongs " " To me !" said the phantom. The Haunted Man continued, in a despairing tone : — "I see the influence of this in the magazines and daily papers ; I see weak imitators rise up and enfeeble the world with senaalcag formula. lam getting tired of it. It won't do, Charles ! it won't do,',' and the Haunted Man buried his head in his hands and groaned.

The figure looked down upon him sternly ; the portrait in the froutiapieoe frowned as he gazed. " Wretched man," said the phantom, "and how have these things affected

you?" " Once I laughed and cried, hut then I was younger. Now I would forget them if I could."

" Have then your wish ; and take this with you, man . whom I renonnce. From this day henceforth you shall live with. those whom I displace. Without forgetting me twill be your lot to walk through life as if we had not met. fiat first you shall survey theso scenes that henceforth must be yours. At one tonight prepare to meet the phantom I have raised. Farewell 1"

The aound of its voice seemed to fade •way with the dying wind and the Hannted Man was alone. But the firelight flickered gaily, and the light danced on the walls, .making groateaque figures of the furniture. "Ha, ;ha!'' said the Haunted Man, tubbing This hands gleefully ; ''now for a whisky .punch and a cigar.'*