ng,
the abuse, which figure in these chapters are stranger than fiction.
The courtship, elopement, and marriage of Hugh Bronte with Alice
McGlory form one of the most extraordinary narratives of love and
adventure that has ever been penned.

The half-humorous, half-pathetic, but always intensely interesting,
descriptions of the ancestors of the Bronte sisters, their peculiarities,
the superstition with which some of them were regarded as masters of the
black art, the respect that they commanded as fighters and singers and
workmen, the side-lights thrown upon the early and bitter contest over
tenant rights, the exposition of strange religious beliefs--all of this,
and more that cannot here even be hinted at, serve to present a curious
and vivid picture of everyday life in a corner of Ireland one hundred
years ago.

These articles bring out the hereditary and surrounding influences
which helped to shape the genius of Charlotte Bronte. Aside from the
value which they have because they furnish a remarkable commentary on
the work of the great novelist, they are pages of real life of
fascination and remarkable interest.

The first article will give a glimpse of the early Brontes and the
singular weird story of that dark foundling who brought ruin to his
benefactors, and whose machinations resulted in the absolute
separation of Hugh Bronte, the grandfather of the novelists, from his
parents--a separation so complete that he was never able to learn in
what part of Ireland his father's family lived. Hugh Bronte was
kidnapped when he was six years old. The strange narrative of his
abduction will be given in the August number of McCLURE'S MAGAZINE.

A STRANGE STORY: THE LOST YEARS

LIZZIE HYER NEFF.

I.

Whether or not to relate the history that I now commence has been to
me a seriously debated question.

But after due reflection I decide that, being the only witness to the
events that have lately been so startling to at least one community,
it is my duty to state as clearly and exactly as possible, while yet
fresh in my memory, the occurrences that came under my observation. I
am satisfied in so doing that the contingencies which might arise from
my silence would be much more serious in their effect upon my friends
than their aversion to the publicity to which they may be subjected;
but, of course, when completed, my statement will be subject to their
wish in its disposal.

Regarding myself, it is only necess