Democratic Sentinel, Volume 11, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 October 1887 — DARK AND FAIR BY TURNS. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

DARK AND FAIR BY TURNS.

BY RYE JOHNSON.

T was truly a startfcfipr ling experience, this 'J W that I am about to ,1 relate, and I try to | forget it. But Dr. Eane has requested yg me to write a de- - a tailed account, so I Mp shall let the world f share it with him. J My name in those days was Esther Dane, my home in Charleston, and I

■worked in a printing office. My father was -well off, but I had a passionate love for my work, typesetting, and worked in the office "of a popular daily, much against his will. The summer I was eighteen I became afflicted with a singular disease. I was very fair, with gray eyes and goldenbrown hair. Those who cared for me were kind enough to call me fair to look upon, and I loved my own face because it gained love from others. One day I discovered a small black spdt upon my right ear. I wondered over it very much, and when I saw it grow from day to day, spreading over my entire ear in a few weeks, it made me feel terribly. I arranged my hair in a way to hide it, but when it spread upon tho side of my face I gave up my place and went home. Father was frightened nearly to death over my strange appearance," and could scarcely believe it afforded me no pain or inconvenience. He would have me see a physician, so at my entreaty he took me to a great doctor in New York. We carefully concealed our identity, for I was very sensitive over the matter then. The case puzzled the learned man, and in fact we journeyed from city to city, puzzling every one we visited in turn. Some talked learnedly, using a string of unintelligible medical phrases. But none prescribed a remedy. All the time it grew and spread, until half my face was covered. Our constant travel, and seeing so many strange doctors, and hearing the matter so fully discussed, had cured me of my foolish sensitiveness. Of course I would not go out without a veil, but I ceased to worry and cry over it, and could even make merry about it. I remember telling a Chicago doctor, when my face was about equally divided into two colors, that I was a big dose of “ ’arf and ’arf. ” My chin became wholly black, and

over half of my forehead, but my nose and the rest remained white. There it stopped, and began spreading downward over my body. Then we noticed a difference in it. From being natural the black skin became velvety to the touch, like it sometimes is on a large mole or birth mark. Oh, but I was a queer-looking body then, hut I became so accustomed to it that I became careless about a veil, and would stupidly wonder what the matter was when people would cry out at sight of my hideousness. Then father took me to Paris. It was on the steamer that we made Dr. Kane’s acquaintance. He was a young man, but already had gained some reputation. He had become convinced that be had much yet to learn, so had thrown up a lucrative practice, to walk the Paris hospitals a year, or perhaps two. My strange case at once interested him. He asked questions until he knew as much about the matter as I did. He examined the black growth closely,

and eventually c wned himself puzzled, as had many famous men before him. I liked him immensely, and, in my merry unconcern, turned much of his questioning into ridicule. Soon after our arrival in Paris a great medical convention took place, and one day Dr. Kane came for me. Only a few of the celebrities had ever heard of anything similar, and were unanimous in the opinion that there was no cure. I must go piebald all my life. We returned home, and father sold his possessions in Charleston. We hid ourselves in a pretty New York suburb. Dr. Kane returned a year later, and our curious friendship was renewed. He was very kind to me, was often at our house, rode, drove, and walked with me, spending as much time as he could spare from professional and other duties. He was always studying over my case, and tried many experiments, all to no purpose. I took a good deal of quiet comfort that summer. I was not happy. God help me, I never could be bappy again, for I loved Harry Kane. Sometimes I thought lie cared for me, but that was when we were riding or driving, and I was closely veiled—when he could not see my very hideous face.

Along in the fall he was called away, and would be absent some months. Soon after his departure I first became conscious, by physical sensations, that the blackness was a disease. A stinging, burning sensation began wherever there was a spot of color. I suffered tortures. Every cooling, soothing lotion imaginable was resorted to, advice was procured, but naught availed to allay my suffering. It lasted months. For many nights I never slept, and at length brain and nerve gave way, and I died. SStrango assertion to make, you say. Yes, I d ed, or the people thought I did. But every sense remained acutely alert—save feeling and breathing. I knew my body grew rigid, and cold as ice. I knew when I was arrayed for the grave and placed in my casket. I knew the peril I was in; that of being buried alive; but the rest from that agonized suffering was so exquisite that all else seemed of little moment. I heard, as one hears from afar, the voice of a man of God speaking words of comfort to my sorrowing frie ids. I heard the solemn “dust to dust” rattle upon my coffin, then sank to a total unconsciousness, as one sinks to a sweet sleep. My next sensation was cold, awful, deathly cold, and a feeling of numbness. I could not stir, or open my eyes, but feeling had returned to my whole body. Every part of it tingled and ached, and my hands and feet felt like blocks of ice. Presently I felt hands grasp me and extend me on what seemed a board, bond exclamations in different voices reached my dulled ears; then a dead silence followed. It was broken by a voice that—ah, God!—had power to call me from the dead. “What is the matter, gentlemen?” it asked, and footsteps approached me and paused beside me. “Good God! Estner!” Oh, how I strugled to break the invisible bonds that held me. “Esther, Esther! Oh, my Godl Dead, dead!” the dear voice moaned, and he passed a caressing hand over my poor mottled face. As it lingered against my lips I kissed it lightly, involuntarily. A great cry escaped him, and he

bent closely over me. I felt his breath ! npon my face. His lips touched mine. Then I lived. Had it been really death, instead of trance, I must have come to life then. He loved me! I opened my eyes, gave o;e quick glance about, then cried out in terror. Around stood many strange men, a 1 watch.ng and listening intently. The room seemed large and long, and was lit by many lamps. Grizzly skeletons hung here and there, and seemed to grin in ghastly mockery at me. “Dr. Kane!” I cried, finding my voice, “I am afraid ! Take me away!” He w;js white as death, and trembled so he could scarcely speak. “Gentlemen, this is a strange way to find a dear friend, and a queer endiug to our lecture, but I thank God for it. ” I was shaking like a leaf, my teeth chattering. I seemed dying of cold, and no wonder. I lay upon the dis-secting-table, with ro covering but my shroud, and had lain for hours in a fireless room. Taking me in his arms he carried me to an adjoining room. Two elderly physicians aided him in restoring warmth to my almost frozen body. I hen the burning, itching sensation began again, and putting up my hands, I ru bed my face vigorously. Imagine the amazement of us all when the black skin peeled off like a mask. Dr. Kane’s eyes gleamed like stars. Well, to make a long story short, in a few days all the diseased skin was gone, and I was as fair to look upon as ever, and oh, how proud and happy! My body had been stolen from the grave and shipped to Chicago. Dr. Kane was to have lectured to the students that night. You know the rest. Father and mother were like crazed people over my recovery, and could scarcely believe the fair-skinned girl Harry Kane so proudly introduced was the mottle-faced one they had so sorrowfully buried a short time before. It was not long before I became Dr. Kane’s happy wife, so there is nothing more to tell, only that years have passed and no signs of my strange disease have ever returned.

“ Esther! O, my God! Dead! Dead!”