Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 19, Number 10, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 October 1897 — BLOOD WILL TELL. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

BLOOD WILL TELL.

HE ocean was gloriously blue ffl and beautiful, it [TO being our third \|\ « day out. The great steamer's BbT] decks were jFWfr crowded with ryl her passengers, whom the fine lg|[|r weather had . _ > brought out once - more. _ No-one attraetmore general at-

Mention than a tall, stalwart young fellow, most severely English in his dress «nd manner. Over six feet in height, mt wonderfully perfect physique, he ftrod the deck w T ith a springiness and ■aee of gait rarely seen, i “Most distinguished looking,” was •lie universal feminine verdict. Several went so far as to believe him a lord in disguise, despite the plain (Charles Blake known to be his name fra the passenger list. lie was often fcceompanied by a middle-aged man as unmistakably English as himself. “No mystery at all about him,” said He genial purser, the especial friend ■f the ladies. “He and his father are ■haply two rich Englishmen who have feoen spending some years in your big lAmerica, and are now returning to Phkgland, where old Mr. Blake has large estates in Yorkshire. Do not get •xclted, ladies, and try to invent rofraanees. Young Blake is a fine-looking. Bfrther sober sort of fellow, but as far ■■ I can see nothing as wonderful and ■ayaterlous as you are trying to make ■at. He Is so dark that if I did not know he was English I should say that H had some colored hlood in his veins.” In this case, however, the women had the best of it, after all. There was a ■nystery concerning young Mr. Blake. He was, as has been said correctly, ■edately, soberly English in every way mcept, perhaps, a slightly unfamiliar least of countenance. What was it that pras puzzling? There Is always so Bnich Idle talk on a steamer. Not a groat talker, but when warmed Woaa subject, though this happened Barely, as he appeared to have e\ery ■motion under supreme control, the Hood mantled in his dark cheeks, and Ki large, black, deep-set eyes glowed th an Intense though rather sombre Mre. His English was singularly unjleflled for this slang-loving generaJBon. 1 “Tour son does not look much like CP®*.” some one would say to ruddy, bright-faced senior Blake. “No, he is like his mother's people,” fg Hr. Blake would calmly reply, but not BMitlmilng the conversation further in Mhat direction. | * “Uke his mother’s people,” aye, and Pkfr hfs father’s, too, for Charles Blake ■uly seven short years before had : pMuaed, a scarce blanketed savage, Mrer the far western wilds of North - mmerlca. A war whoop had been far natural to him then than the fine iEgitar' solos be executed now without • jpflculty. He had been a brave among rlight years before this story begins

I Mr. Blake, Sr., was seized with the I fever of exploration that so often takes the moneyed Englishman of to-day in j its grasp, and set sail for America and j the wild and woolly west. In ijue time Mr. Blake found himself in the far west, and, securing suitable I guides, plunged into the wilderness, wilderness most satisfactory, wilderness far beyond his wildest imaginings. , Here, with his guides, he spent many I months in hunting and exploration, ; several times experiencing the proud sensation of being the first white Quin to visit. One day the guides brought to the temporary camp a young Indian, who ( had fallen ill while on a lone hunt, and ; was unable to get back to the home ; from which he had wandered far. The guides had gone to his rescue. For weeks the sick boy lay in the little shelter of boughs, erected by the guides. "~~7 Mr. Blake, a childless widower, became greatly interested in the youthful savage, and as time went on much attached to him. Through a guide as interpreter they talked much together. Perhaps some drops of white blood ..-mingled in the young Indian’s veins. inherited from some far-away ancestor, gave him the longing - he now evinced for civilization, the desire to try a white man’s life; perhaps Mr. Blake’s arguments, representations, persuasions alone influenced the young, untamed heart.

Be that as it may, Satucket, as be was called, agreed to forsake the home, the life of his fathers, and to place himself unreservedly in the hands of this new-found friend. A certain lightness of the red brow of the ordinary Indian complexion in Satucket’s case made the plan proposed and afterward adopted by Mr. Blake feasible. All that money, tutors, summary and entire isolation from the scenes of his youth, could do for the young Indian, was done. It was not only book knowledge that he had to gain, but almost everything that comes naturally to a white child of cultured parents, and there was so much to unlearn! Now Mr. Blake felt that the self-im-posed task, interesting, delightful withal, was most satisfactorily completed. Young Blake had been taken on a tour through many large cities and fashionable watering places, and everywhere had received most flattering attention from young and old. The necessary papers had long been made out, and Charles was as legally Mr. Blake’s son as though of his own flesh and blood. A happier father and son it would have been hard to find.

With a heart overflowing w r ith triumph and thankfulness, Mr. Blake set sail for his native shores, unvisited for the past eight years. That he was returning with an adopted son his friends in the old country knew, they had had to be told this, but to strangers, the adoption, like the rest of his son’s life before he was his son, Mr. Blake kept a profound secret.

Among the passengers was a young girl, a more perfect blonde than is often seen in Britain, or even, except in childhood, in America. A sweet young English maiden,' timid, modest, lovely in every way. A child who had never before been away from her mother’s side, from the protecting shadowy of her wing, until now, returning from a

short visit to America with her father. To her Charles was unhesitatingly attracted; the older men found many interests in common, and the four spent many happy hours on this pleasantest of voyages on a summer’s sea. Amy’s sweet face grew sweeter day by day, a faint rose tint glowed in the pure whiteness of her cheeks. Charles’ dark face became really handsome, having an animation utterly unknown before. The result of this acquaintance can easily lie foreseen. Many were the promises exchanged by the young pair: The fathers parted with assurances of continued friendship. Charles Blake was received In England as cordially as he or Mr. Blake could possibly desire. Before a year had gone by the marriage eminently pleasing to all concerned took place, and Charles and Amy settled down in Mr. Blake’s handsome home, with apparently every prospect of a long and happy life therein. Mr. Blake’s cup of happiness was now full and running over. For n time all went well, hut there was an influence at work busily undermining this fair fabric of happiness, which not even the nearest and dearest, most fortunately, suspected. Even before he left the ship, when away from Amy, Charles had had moments when the longing for freedom had been almost insupportable. In all the years of his new mode of life, though ever more or less conscious of this desire, he had never felt It so strongly, for his had been a very busy life, but as he was being taken day by day further and further from bis native land, a wild impulse often came over him to leap into the sea, to breast

the highest waves, to make the most desperate efforts possibly to regain his lost freedom, to see once more his own savage home, never as dear as now when it seemed lost to him forever. The excitement o< In his new home, the days crowded with engagements, his marriage, had all served to keep his mind well occupied. But now, after the bustle, the stir, there was comparative quiet and the old temptation returned wit! redoubled power. How be hated his fine clothes, only badges of bis servitude, be bitterly thought. He longed with all liis unsubdued savage heart to throw the garments of civilization to the four winds of the earth, and roam once more the pathless forests, clad at most In blanket and moccasins. O, for his bed of pine boughs, his glorious nights under the canopy of heaven, lighted only by the moon or stars. Gas, lamps, electric lights were one and all unspeakably hateful to him. Foor Satucket! There were days when he could not eat; the dainty"food of a well-ordered

house was absolutely loathsome to him. He saw again in his mind’s eye the half-cooked slices of venison or bear’s meat of his long-forsaken home; he was starving for that food now. The end soon came, alas, poor human nature is very weak. Straggle as he might, there came a time all too soon in the short married life that had seemed to promise so much happiness, when poor Charles could no longer resi st tjwrtempter. Omc morning Amy awoke to find herself alone, a deserted wife. A dim remembrance of passionate kisses pervading her slumbers, a few hastilysorawled words on paper strangely blotted and tumbled, words that she never showed to anyone, were all that were left to her now. In one of the few tribes of hostile Indians still left in America, there is a young warrior, a chieftain, admired and revered by all his savage followers; he is their pride and glory. Except for a finer form, a more lofty carriage, there is little to distinguish him from his wild brethren. His life, his language Is as theirs. Only one difference, no squaw lives in his wigwam, or is ever bidden to enter there. —— . ■ —• • No other woman will ever take the place, once held, ever so briefly, by the sweet English girl, Amy —Utica Globe,

A TALL, STALWART YOUNG FELLOW.

ADMIRED AND REVERED BY ALL HIS SAVAGE FOLLOWERS.