I PHANTOM SHIP
—OR—
| The Flying Dutchman.
**•-BY CAFTAN MARI TAT.
I ..
fTITTTTTTv .....
CHAPTER XXXI.—(Continued.)
"Holy Virgin!” exclaimed the cap
tain, hi pathless; "I have known ships
to go down, but never to come up be
fore."
"The Phantom Ship—the ‘Flying
Dutchman,’" shrieked Fchrifter.; "I
told you so, Philip Vanderdecken;
there Is your father—He, he!"
Philip’s eyes had remained fixed on
the vfgsel; he perceived that they were
lowering down a boat from her quar
ter. "It Is possible,” thought he, ”1
shall now he permitted!" and Philip
put his hand into his bosom and
grn«ped the relic.
Shortly afterward the splash of oars
was heard alongside, and a voice call
ing out; "I say, my good people, give
us a rope from forward."
No one answered or complied with
the request. Schrlften only went up
to the captain and told him that If
they offered to send letters they must
not be received or the vessel would be
doomed and all would perish.
A man now made his appearance
from over the gunwale, at the gang
way. “You might as well have let me
bad a side rope, my hearties,” said he,
as he stepped on deck; "where is the
capniu?"
4 Here," replied the captain, trem
bling from head to foot. The man waj
accosted him appeared a weather-beat
en seaman, diessed in a fur cap and
canvas petticoats
"W a. do >ou want?" at last scream
ed '.he captain.
"Yes—what do you want?” continued
Schrif'en. “He! he!"
"What, you here, pilot?" observed
the nan; "well, 1 thought you had
gone to Davy's locker long enough
ago "
lie. he," replied scnrmen, wraiu*
away.
"Why. the fact la, captain, we have
had very foul weather, and we wish
to tend letters home; I do believe that
we shall r ?ver get round this Cape."
"I can’t take them!” cried the cap
tain.
"Can’t take them! Well, It's very
odd; but every ship refuses to take our
letters. It's very unkind; seamen
should have a feeling for brother sea
men, especially in distress. God knows
wc wish to see our wives and families
again; and it would .be a matter of com
fort to them if they only could hear
from us.”
”1 can not take your letters—-the
saints preserve us!" replied the cap
tain.
"We have been a long while out,"
saU! the seaman, shaking his head.
"How long?” Inquired the captain
"We can’t tell; our almanac was
blown overboard, and we have lost our
reckoning We never had our latitude
exact now, for we cannot tell the sun’s
declination for the right day.
"Let me see your letters,” said Phil
ip. advancing and taking them out of
the seaman’s hands.
"They must not be touched!’’ scream
ed achriften.
"Out, monster!” replied Philip; "who
dare interfere with me?"
"Doomed! doomed! doomed!” shriek
ed 3chriften. running up and down
the deck, ar.d then breaking into a wild
fit of laughter.
"Tcucu not the letters," said the
captain, trembling as if In an ague fit.
Philip made no reply, but held his
hand out for the letters.
"Hero is one from our second mate
to his wife at Amsterdam, who lives on
Waser Quay."
"Wa-er Quay has long been gone,
my good friend; there Is now a large
dock for ships where it once was,” re
plied Philip.
"impossible: replied tne man; ' nere
is another from the boatswain to bis
father, who lives in the old market*
place.”
"The old market place has long been
pulled down, and there now stands a
church upon the spot.”
•'Impossible!" replied the seaman;
"here Is auolher from myself to my
sweetheart. Vrow Reiser with money
to buy her a new brooch."
Philip shook his head, "1 remember
seeing an old lady of that name buried
some thirty years agu."
"Impossible! I left her young and
bite in lug Here's one for the bouse of
Hluta A Co., to whom the ship be
longs'*
"There's no such house now." re
plied Philip; "but I have heard that
many years ago there was a firm of
that name.”
"Inpiolble! you must be laughing
at me Here Is a letter frum our rap
tala to bis sob —“
"Give It me." rrled Philip seising
the letter- He was about to break tke
seal, when gcbrlftea snatched It out
of kla band, and threw It over the lee
goawate
I hat s a scurvy trick for an old
•hlpaMle." observed th - seaman
•rhriftea made so reply hut catching
Up the other letters which Phillip hat
laid down on tha capstan he hurled
them after the tret
Tho strange soagtaa shed tears, and
walked again to the aide "It la vary
hard- very unbind.** oheerved he as
pa Ics.erded. (he time may come
■baa you mar wish that y*«ur family
should know your situation * ho say
lag h* disappeared, la h hr* •»<
• aa heard th# sound of the oars re
treating Inmb the ship
"Holy Cl Antontu!** eac'aim d tao
- - - - --V V V V
captain, ”1 am lost In wonuer and
fright. Steward, bring me up the ar
rack.”
The steward ran down for the bot
tle; being as much alarmed as his cap
tain, he helped himself before he
brought It up to his commander.
"Now,” said the captain, after keeping
his mouth for two minutes to the bot
tle, aud draining it to the bottom,
"what Is to be done next?”
"I’ll tell you,” said Schriften, going
up to him; “that man there has a
charm hung round his neck; take It
from him and throw It overboard, and
your ship will be saved; If not, it will
he lost, with every soul on board.”
“Yes, yes, It’s all right, depend up
on It,” cried the sailors.
“Fools,” replied Philip; "do you be
lieve that wretch? Did you not hear
the man who came on board recognize
him and cell him shipmate? He Is the
party whoso presence on board will
prove so unfortunate."
"Yes, yes.” cried the sailors; "IPs
all right; the man did call him ship
mate.”
"I tell .on It’s all wrong"’ cried
Schriften; “that is the man; let him
give up the charm."
“Yes, yes; let him give tip the
charm,” cried the sailors, and they
rushed upon Philip.
Philip started back to where the cap
tain stood. "Madmen, know ye what
you are about? It is the holy cross
that 1 wear round my neck. Throw It
overboard If you dare, and your souls
are lost forever," and Philip took the
relic from his bosom and showed it to
the captain.
"No, no, men!" exclaimed the cap
tain, who was now more settled In his
nerves; "that won’t do—the saints pro
tect us."
The seamen, however, became clam
orous; one portion were for throwing
Schriften overboard, the other for
throwing Philip; at last the point was
decided by the captain, who directed
the small skiff hanging astern to be
lowered down, and ordered both Philip
and Schriften to get into it. The sea
men approved of the arrangement, as
it satisfied both parties. Philip made
no objection; Schriften screamed and
fought, but he was tossed into the
boat. There he remained trembling in
the stern-sheets, while Philip, who had
seized the sculls, pulled away from the
vessel in the direction of the Phantom
Ship.
CHAPTER XXXII.
In a few minutes tin; vessel which
Philip and Schrlften had left was no
longer to bo discerned through the
thick haze; the Phantom Ship was still
in sight, but at a much greater dis
tance from them than she was before.
Philip pulled hard toward her, but, al
though hove-to, she appeared to In
crease her distance from the boat. For
a short time he paused on his oars to
regain his breath, when Scbriften rose
up and took his seat in the stern-sheets
of the boat. "You may pull and pull,
Philip Vandcrdecken," observed Sehrlf
ten, “but you will not gain that ship
no, no, that cannot be—we may have a
long cruise together, but you will be as
far away from your object at the end
of it as you are now at the commence
ment. Why don't you throw me over
board again? You would be all the
lighter. He! he!"
"I threw you overboard In a state of
frenzy,” replied Philip, "when you at
tempted to force from me my relic."
"Auil have I not endeavored to make
others take It from you this very day?
Have 1 not? He! he!”
"You have." rejoined Philip; "but I
' am now convinced that you are a* un
j happy as myself, and that in what you
! are doing you are ouiy following your
I'-’iny. as 1 am mine. Why and where
I fore I cannot tell, but we are both eu
I gaged in the same mystery; if (he sue
! cess of my endeavors depend* upon
I guarding the relic, the sucees* of yours
depend* upon your obtaining it, and de
feating my purpose by so doing. In
| this matter we are both agent*, and
you have been, as far a* my mission is
concerned, my most active enemy. Hut.
Schrtflen, I have not forgotten, and
never will, that you kindly did advise
my poor Amine; that you prophesied
to her what would be her fate If she
did not listen to your counsel; that
you were no enemy of hers, although
my enemy; for her sake I forgive you.
and will not attempt to harm you "
You do then forgive your enemy.
Philip Vanderde* ken," replied nchrlf
ten, mournfully, "for such I acknowl
edge myself to be."
“1 do. with all my heart, with all my
•out.” replied Philip
Then you have coueoered me. I'hll
: ip Y'anderdechen; you have m*d# me
) your friend, and your wtehe* are about
i to be acromplishesi You would know
| who I am I.iaten When your father,
' defying the Almighty’s will, la his
rage tuuh my life he •*• vouchsafed a
: choice of hie doom being canceled
I through the merits of hie soa I had
. also my appeal. *bt*b was foe veage
' anew. It ess greatest that I should
| remeie an earth and thwart your srtii
That as long as we were en*m<*e you
(should net succeed hut that when you
had conformed to the hlgheat eltnh .
of t'hrtatianity, prosed oa the holy
j erean that of forgiving your enemy
your tssh sh»ui<J he to A led Ph .
; \aadeideshea, you base forgiven your
enemy, find both onr destinies are now
accomplished.”
As Schrifien spoke Philip’s eyes were
fixed upon him. He extended his hand
to Philip—It was taken; and as It was
pressed, the form of the pilot wasted
as it were Into the air, and Philip
found himself alone.
Philip then pulled toward the Phan
tom Ship, and found that she no long
er appeared to leave; on the contrary,
every minute he was nearer and near
er, and at last he threw in his oars and
climbed up her sides, and gained her
decks.”
Jhe crew of the vessel crowded
around him.
"Your captain,” said Philip; "I must
speak with your captain.”
"Who shall I say. sir?” demanded
one, who appeared lo be the first mate.
“Who?" replied Philip. ‘ Tell him his
son would speak to him—his son, Phil
ip Vanderdecken."
Shouts of laughter from the crew fol
lowed this answer of Philip, and the
mate, as soon as they had ceased, ob
served with a smile:
"You forget, sir; perhaps you would
say his father.”
"Tell hirn his son, If you please,” re
plied Philip; “take no note of grey
hairs."
"Well, sir, here he Is coming for
ward," replied the mate, stepping
aside, and pointing to the captain.
"What is all this?” inquired the cap
tain.
"Are yon Philip Vanderdecken, the
captain of this vessel?”
"I am, sir.” replied the other.
"You appear not to know me! Bu*.
how can you? You saw me when I
was only three years old; yet may you
remember a letter which you gave to
your wife."
“Ha!” replied the captain. "And
who, then, ate you?"
“Time has stopped with you, bat
with those who live in the world he
stops not; and for those who pass a
life of misery he hurries on still faster.
In me behold yunr son. Philip Vander
decken, who has obeyed your wishes;
and. after a life of such peril and mis
ery us few have passe l, lias at last
fulfilled his vow, and now offers to his
father the precious relic that he re
quired to kiss.”
.My son, iny son! exclaimed he, ris
ing aud throwing himself into Philip's
arms; "my eyes are opened—the Al
mighty knows how long they have
been obscured," Embracing each other,
they walked aft, away from the men,
who were still crowded at the gang
way.
The eider Vanderdecken knelt down;
Philip did the suine, still embracing
each other with one arm, while they
raised on high the other and prayed.
For the last time the relic was taken
from the bosom of Philip aud handed
to bis father- and bis father raised his
eyes to heaven aud kissed it. And, as
he kissed it, the long, tapering upper
spars of the phantom vessel, the yards
aud sails that were set, fell into dust,
fluttered in the wind, and sank upon
the wave. The mainmast, foremast,
bowsprit, everything above the deck
crumbled info atoms and disappeared. I
Once more did he put the sacred em
blem to ills lips, aud the beams and ,
timbers separated, the decks of the |
vessel slowly sank, and the remnants j
of the hull floated upon the water; and
as the father and son the one young
and vigorous, the other old and de
crepit—still kneeling, still embracing
with their hands raised to heaven, sank
slowly under the deep blue wave, the i
lurid sky was for a moment illuminated :
by a lightning cross.
Then did the clouds which obscured
the heavens roll away swift as thought !
—the sun again burst out In all its i
splendor—the rippling waves appeared 1
to dance with joy. The screaming sea- ;
gull again whirled in the air, and the I
scared albatross once more slumbered
on the wing; the porpoise tumb.ed and
tossed In their sportive play, the albl
core and dolphin leaped from the
sparkling sea. All nature smiled as
if it rejoiced that the charm was dis
solved forever, and that the I’hantom
Ship was no more,
THE END.
*‘ICsr(li<|u»k<- KrhuM,”
Mr. John Milne gives this name to
certain vibrations, which his delicate
Instruments have revealed, running
through the crust of the earth after
the occurrence of distant earthquake*.
The apparent symmetry of these puls
ations, resembling the rhythm of mu
steal sounds, leads him to suggest that
an earthquake may be "a blow or
' blows, which come to an end with
musical vibrations Inside the world."
I The blows probably come from the
slipping or falling of rock within the
earth Mr. Milne, at his observatory
on the Isle of Wight, photographs
vibrations of bis sel»niographtc pendu
lums, Induced by earthquakes many
thousands tf n»l'»s away, and In a re
s'nt letter he .peaks of "a magnlltcent
set of waves which arrived from Me«*
tco on the night of Jan till."
Sul Mush ut the tegel, UlM til.
1‘rlson chaplain Ah. you have a pet.
I «ee
Convict tea. ihts rat I feed, him
•very day I think iiuwe o* that 'ere
rat than say other livin’ creature
I’ri 'i* chaplain th in .very ctsn
there • tomeihlng uf the angel laft. If
<<n« can only had It Mow came you to
take os'k a fsa* y to that rat*
Convict Mi hit th warder T.4
Itita,
Wat Msrn
It's a very happy lit It# family, laa t
It*"
t’h dear, no' M*r b'.sbatol la ye*.
| m* of he. pi* 'Hr ahd her (youdla la
i jealous at her hotsy aad the taky *.rt«#
I H>t «u father all the time " TM Mtto
CHAPTER V.—(Continued.)
It was Miss Branscombe. The hood
Dt her light mantle was drawn over
her head and face, and as she came
swiftly on, with downcast head, she
was unconscious of my presence until
she almost touched me. At the flrst
recognition she gave a little cry and
started back, the next Instant she had
recovered herself, and something of
the womanly dignity which I had ad
mired In her at our flrHt meeting re
turned to her bearing. She made no
apology or excuse for her presence
there on such a night and at such an
hour; she merely bowed her head with
a murmured "Thank you,” as I threw
open the door and stood back for her
to precede me into the hall. She did
not, as I half expected, try to excuse
or account for her late walk, but with
another bow she passed on and up the
wide staircase. The light from a hang
ing lamp fell upon her face as she
turned to mount the steps, and I saw
that her eyes were swollen with tears
and her cheeks deadly pale. She held
tightly by the carved oak balustrade
too a« she went slowly up and out of
my sight,
"And bo." 1 said to myself, as,
haunted by a spirit of unrest, I paced
the floor of my room long after mid
night—"so dies the last lingering rem
nant of my faith In womanhood.” But
It was dying hard; It was hydra
headed, apparently, and sprang Into
fresh life as fast as I set my heel upon
the last quivering fragment; and at
last, when I sought my bed, I knew
that neither my faith, nor a mad love,
as wild and impossible as the love of
the wave for the star, was dead wiLu.n
me. I had found a hundred excuses, a
hundred reasons, which left Nona
Branscombe my pure sweet Ideal still;
and withal, 1 was the most unhappy
man In the United Kingdom. Had
Miss Branscombe been the penniless
girl her friends and neighbors had pre
possible for Mr. Fort to remain with
you until after the funeral; but it is a
point l can hardly press, as he has
teen good enough to give us already so
much of his valuable time.”
“We should indeed be glad,” said
Miss Elmslle, looking appealingly at
me.
Ho I was Impelled by the Irresistible
force of fate Into the current which
■ could only bear me to disastrous ship
wreck.
“I could return,” I said, answering
the appeal of Miss Elmslle. And oh,
what a rush of dangerous Joy thrilled
through my veins at the thought of
once mow* being under the same roof
with Nona Uranscombe! "My arrange
ments are made for to-day, as you
know. I must run up to town; but If
I can assist you by returning to Forest
Lea, I will do eo immediately—as soon
as I have seen my partners."
“It will be the greatest comfort,”
Miss Elinslie assured me, with tears
In her eyes. And so It was settled.
"I will drive with you to the sta
tion,” the rector said, as the dog-cart
come round; "1 have business there.
Are yoti a good whip? No?”—as I
shook my head. “Well, I will take the
reins then. Mason”—to the groom—
"cut across the park while we drive
round, and leave word at my house
that I have gone on to Westford. We
will pick you up at the end of Park
Lane. The fact Is,” he confided to me,
as soon as the man was out of ear
shot, "that scamp, Charlie Uranscombe,
has been seen hanging about the place;
the purport of the poor old colonel's
will will soon ooze out—If it hasn’t
done so already—and Master Charlie
Is quite capable of bullying his cousin
In the first flush of his disappointment.
It was my good old friend’s last Injunc
tion that Charlie should not be ad
mitted to the Lea. and Miss Nona Is
tender-hearted In that quarter."
A light flashed upon me. It was
ON THE SPOT, YES; BUT NOT IN THE HOUSE,” MR. HEATHCOTE AN
SWERED GRAVELY.
maturely declared her to be, there
would have been neither presumption
nor madness In the passion which had
taken possession of me, for I was well
born, my prospects were good, and 1
could have entered the lists fearlessly
against all comers. But Miss Brans
combe, the heiress, the owner of fifteen
thousand a year, was separated from
me by a barrier which I recognized as
Insurmountable. I groaned In spirit
as I remembered that my own hand
had helped to raise the barrier.
And then 1 fell into a short troubled
slumber. Just as the restless twittering
of the little birds beneath my window
• old that the day was breaking.
CHAPTER VI.
Karly as It was when I descended to
the breakfast room that morning. MU*
KlmsIU was already down and In deep
and anxious conference with the ree.
tor. Th*y ceased speaking as 1 en
tered. and Mr lleatbcote came for
ward to greet me.
•T am aorry you are leaving Purest
|.ea thla morning.'’ he said, as Ml**
Klmalle busied herself with the tea
urn. "These ladle* need -er—er -In
fart, some member of our •** sadly
Jual now I wish you cuuld have re
mained "
“You are on the spot .'* I suggested
fighting with an impulse which tempt
ed me to forget my duty alike to my
firm and to myself, and to Itagei In
the sunshine which could only scorch
me.
"On the spot, yes, hut not In the
hoits* Mr Ileal heote answered
gravely, accepting the rup of tea which
Miss Rlmslie offered him "Yuri are
singularly destitute ,»f male relative#,
Mteu Mlmslte?" he added, addressing
hse,
‘ Yes." eh» sigh**!, "there la ikes
utaly no one The dear ewtoael rep
reeaated our whole family, except
"Yes yes1" interrupted the rector
haettly You are entirely uapruted*
•d, aafortoaately i «t«h It had haea
Charlie whom she had met In the
shrubbery last night—who had smoked
that prime Havana and brought those
tears to his cousin's sweet eyes; and
to Charlie, no doubt, I thought, with
a swift pang of jealousy, she had given
her young love- the treasure he would
squander as remorselessly as he had
wasted the more tangible treasures In
his hands. And upon me, of all men,
by the cruel Irony of fate, was forced
the task of separating her from the
man she loved! Nothing could come
to me but pain, disappointment and
odium.
"There Is more than one element of
danger In the ease," said the worthy
rector. "Charlie may make a disturb*
a nee at the l.ea, and seriously ctnbar
ra.-s those two unprotected women, or
he may work upon the feelings of a
susceptible and romantic girl like
Nona, and neutralise all the wise pro
visions of his uncle There Is no tell
ing what. In the first emotional work
ing* of such a character as this sweet
young girl's. Charlie may make her do
for him - give up Korea! I*ea. 1
shouldn't tie surprised, and ruin her
self and all who depend upon her. The
fellow Is, I am sorry to say. utterly
irreclaimable money runs through hts
bauds as If they were sieve*. The
poor old colonel gave him chance after
I chance, and hr threw them nway one
after the other It Is a hopelesa rase "
"And Miss Mranstombe " I said, for
! dag myself to utter the words which
i i hohed me 'Ml** ltran*>omt>« U at
tached to her cousinT
1 fear so. answered the rector
! gi< mil) ' at wife thinhs so, unfur
innately I am syeahlag cwaAdeatlalfy
II Knri he sided turning
i abruptly to me
1 Wi '.awsift like doctors urn* In
fur the secret st a gosni many faml
! I tee," I aas" ed fur waal of sum*
j thing belt# o #a» "
‘■Joel au, aseeaisd the rector, ‘"and
I we went your help Mr Kurt You see
. it )• important to heap ihl* young
a peg > •> e .Mil nf the ■» |> Your piss
cnee at the Lea, and tha exercise ot
the tact and friendly kindness you have
already shown”—I bowed—"will be in
valuable to us at this Juncture. After
the funeral. Miss Elmsllc and Miss
Branscombe will leave the place, and
a year or two of foreign travel, with
fresh scenes and associations, will, I
have no doubt, make a great differ
ence in Miss Branscombe’s views and
feelings. She has been brought up In
a secluded way, and has seen few peo
ple hitherto. All we want is to gain
time. But here Is my fellow; we must
hurry up to catch the 11.10 express.
The 11:10 express was a favorite
train evidently. I congratulated my
self on having secured a corner seat
next the door, as my carriage filled
rapidly. At Wlvenhoe, the first stop
ping station, two seats—that opposite
to me, on which I had deposited my
black hag and the light dusteoat which
I carried, and a second set next to
mine—were the only ones unoccupied.
The weather was warm, and I was Just
congratulating myself on having es
caped any addition to our number,
when, even as the guard's whistle
sounded, the handle of the carriage
door was hastily tumid and a lady,
evidently a good deal fluttered at the
narrow escape she had made of miss
ing the train, sprang lightly In and
deposited herself In the vucant place
by my side.
It had all happened so suddenly—
my head had been turned away at the
moment of the lady's appearance that
I had only time to draw my somewhat
long limbs out of her path, and none
to catch a glimpse of my new neighbor
before she was seated next to me.
"Allow me," I said then, offering to
relieve her of the small bag and large
loose cloak which she held on her
knees. “There Is room for these
here”—Indicating the opposite seat, on
which my own impedimenta reposed.
She thanked me with a bow and a
few murmured Indistinct words; and,
as I took the two articles from her
hands, I caught a glimpse of her face.
It was covered with a thick gray gos
samer veil, such as ladies use at the
seaside or for driving In the country;
hut the lovely hair that had eacaped
from beneath the large shady hat, and
something In the whole bearing Etar
tled me with a wild impossible idea.
Had I gone mad, or was the Image of
Nona Branscombe so Imprinted on the
rptlna of my eye that to me every
woman must bear her likeness?
I darted another swift keen glance
at my neighbor as I resettled m; self
In my place.
"They will he quite safe there,” I
said, pointing to her possessions, and
then I stopped, breathless. It was no
fond Illusion of my love-sick fancy. It
was Nona herself! The large limpid
eyes, which even the thick gossamer
veil could not hire, looked Into mine
for an Instant with a warning, depre
catory expression, the graceful head
moved with the scantest, most distant
acknowledgment of any courtesy, and
then turned resolutely away. Evi
dently Miss Branscombe did not choose
to recognize me further.
I sat for the next ten minutes
stunned and bewildered, watching the
meadows and trees as they Hew by in
endless succession, and trying to
steady my mind sufficiently to grasp
the situation. Miss Branscombe here
alone, unattended she who had hith
erto led such a carefully protected life
—traveling alone; and whither? I was
certain that neither the rector nor Miss
Elmslle had known of her projected
Journey—the morning’s conversation
quite precluded the Idea. How.had she
reached the station without being seen
by us—the rector or myself?
(To be continued.)
TO BRING ABOUT SLEEP.
The Half Hour Before Bedtime Should
He Quietly Spent.
Difficulties In going to sleep are
sometimes physical more than mental,
says the Spectator. The physical, un- '
tier ordinary circumstance#, are due to
the circulation. The following are a
few practical hints: Some sleep better
half sitting up with three pillows,
some heller with none; some with lit
tle covering, some with much. Hot
drinks or a hot bath Just before sleep,
hot bottles to the feet, are often useful,
Tobacco often increases sleeplessness.
Sometimes, after long waking, a small
meal will bring sleep. Some, espe
cially Invalids, will wake after two
tir three hours; a cup of hot, fresh tea
will often send them to sleep again.
Sometimes the darkness seems exciting
atid one cau sleep with a lighted can
dle. Intermittent noises, as of a rat
tling window, are always had. but a
continuous noise Is often a lullaby.
Moderate fatigue aids, but exhaustion
prevents sleep. Oflenesl sleeplessness
Is mental anil springs from a want
of self-control Klther one subjaet
engrosses the mind or a succession of
Ideas. In either case the sleepless
must make the effort to slop thought.
It Is best done by attending continu
ously to some tuonotomnie nnd une«
rlting Idea which is self hypnotism
Monte count, some breathe slowly as If
look at imaginary sheep
going tkruugh a gate One of the hast
ways la to watch those curious appear
ances which unit# to rlowwtl eyes, a
purple hare fadia# Into a star, which
become* an Irregu'nr line, nnd aaala
change* to something else They ran
not be seen when 9r«t sought, but
will cuts with S little paticu*- I*
ill thee# the purpose le to ff» the at
tention on some object which util
niouae no associations It renutraa
steady effort to do this ami Iff present
the thought* wandering but exercise
lac mates the power to succeed The
half hour b»fo»* bedtime should ba
agent gutetly.
