Indiana State Sentinel, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 July 1893 — Page 10

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THE INDIANA STATE SENTINEL, WEDNESDAY MORNING, JULY 12, 1893-TWELVE PAGES,

out of mm INT

A Novel: By Dr. J. A. Houser.

' ' CHAPTER I. ' Cedar Dell. When Sparkle Brooke first saw the light the sun was just sinking behind the western hills that rose high and bold, forming part of the frame of the quiet, restful picture, that of a little western village sleepily nestled In a valley where the rustle and noiae of commerce and progress had never disturbed the oldfashioned people who came and went on Its grass-grown streets, or waited at the postoffice for the tri-weekly mail that was fetched from the railway station, over the hills, some miles away, Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Though the hurry and nervous impatience of what is called a pry life in the West never bothered this little Eden of Rest, though the people had never seen the glided side or the hot fever of city life, they had never known the sad disap-appointnu-nt s:tid tlv- extreme anxiety, as they had never seen the great wealth and abject poverty of more pretentious places. It was cue of nature's beautiful pictures, framed by hills, lighted with ;i sparkling brook, perfumed by flowers, enchanted by the songs of wlM bi.-ds, while friendship stole like a golden thread from house to house, making it a little social semi-commune where n neighbor had no hesitancy to go to one of his acquaintances for the loan of a cup of coffee or a pound of side meat to cook with his greens. Where this village was located the sparkling brook made a semi-circular turn, kind of a majestic little silver bow of one-half mile In sweep, leaving behind it the irregular crag where it had broken through the limestone wall, and advancing to the end of the bow, hid itself under the shadow of oak-crowned hills. The valley was not more than onehalf mile In width, measuring from one bill to the other, with two gateways, one where the brook entered and one where it departed. On the eastrn side was an irregular, perpendicular limestone wall, reminding the beholder that the old ocean had been there, and the little, patient shellfish had devoted hundreds of thousands of year9 depositing their houses in the bottom of the deep, to crystalize and solidify, and remain centuries after the water had receded to another part of the earth, standing in silent eloquence revealing the age and the measureless antiquity of old mother earth. Here and there this rock wall was broken, washed by the waves of time, shaken by fierce earthquakes, corroded by the tireless hand of decay, leaving promonotories jutting out, frowning and rugged. Stunted cedars, warped and bent in their ptniffgle for life, clung to the crags like pome shipwrecked mariner hanging to a broken spar. Over them the wild morning glories mingled their white and blue flowers, like flashes of moonlight gathered into the draperies of diminutive skirts, hanging In the deep blue sky. Morning glories, white and blue, sky and rnoonlieht, with the emerald of the cedar, through which peep here and there, the trumpet vine and thp wtld ivy. Among these branches and boughs the rustic villagers had made many a seat and sat chattering and fray." watching the little silver stream that flowed from the never-failing spring, laughingly hurry on from rock to rock, breaking and splashing in its downward course, until It was shadowed into a misty veil that seemed to hang over the face of the sweet water nymph that was always hid somewhere in the grotto, singing and humming a song of the little cascade. Farther down the tills sloped back and were covered with oak and sugar, beech and poplar trees. On the other side the picture frame was less rugged, but in the center was a great dark opening that led to a subterranean cave, so dark and gloomy, with such a narrow entrance further on the villagers had never dared penetrate beyond the point when the last gleam of daylight Was lost. In this little valley was the sleepy village known as Cedar Dell. The population consisted of. perhaps, two or three hundred souls, all told. A postoffl.ee, blacksmith shop, two or three stores, a typical country tavern of the earlier days, the usual number of backwoods philosophers, a champion coon hunter, several famous fishermen, the indispensable boss liar, a school house and two churches, made up the greater part of the town. The "divine edifices' were located on opposite sides of the main street, in the principal part of the town. One was presbyterlan and one was methodist, where, in compliance with their creed, relentless Calvanlsm or free Armenianism was dispensed at one or the other every Sunday, so the villagers could take their choice between the foreordained damnation and the hopeless task of being perfect without even a thought of sin. Each church periodically held its regular "revival," where for the time being the creed was forgotten while urging more to join. The Calvinist, though he firmly believed the great majority of mankind was predestined to be damned regardless of any effort that they might make, and that the wicked were brought into existence that their punishment might show the glory of God Just as muc h as the blameless life of the saint urged all to come. So foreordination and predestination ground its hard, flinty, cheerless and hopeless creed into the tender mind of childhood until the Juvenile imagination, to make Clod's appearance correspond with His character, clothed Him with horns and hoofs and fit Him to Fmlle while the founder of the creed was burning Servetus. his bosom friend, and then finally lapse into the Indifference of saying. "If it Is foreordained, it had to be," and looked with indifference upon the rld gray fogy who declared he was "sanctified" as one of the "elect" who rould not sin if he were to try. or rather If he should commit any wickedness it would not be sin. Across the way the entire opposite view was taken, but the result seemed to le the same meetlne. a collection and a church quarrel. There they were told, "While the lamp of light holds out to burn "The vilest sinner may return." Terlodically they all returned to the revival and conversion, to go back to their wickedness during the warm weather. There the young heard that reper.tenance would wash out every blot though it were of the crimson of wickedness. And thus the wayward thought, "It is not necessary for me to be good now. I will wait, sow my wild oats and repent and live a good life and be gathered to my fathers." On the other side of the street the hearer of CalvanIsm said. "I was foreordained to be bad and I cannot hdp it, I might as well die for an old sheep as a lamb, and I will plunsre in and have my fill of this world's wrong and pleasure." And thus between the two, hope and fear, dominated the ptirer and higher and diviner love and goödne of the Master. A few blocks from the center of Cedar Dell was the ever present blacksmith hop, near it a modest little cottago, adorned with a coat of white paint, while the shutters were painted green, according to the most esthetic taste of thirty yewi ago. The smith that presided at this forge was a flne specimen of the laVrlnr men of America: tall. straight, heavy; his brawny arms were 1 as sinewy as if strung with steel wires, and his swelling muscles suggested strength. His broad, heavy shoulders, his deep, round chest, evinced vitality, ba nondfiroui bands showed the marks

IP mum. of toil. Heavy brows denoted great power of observation, and his keen gray eyes let nothing escape their range of vision. His mechanical genius was well developed in the upper-front part of his brain. His kind expressive face spoke of loving regard for all friends. Crown his well-developed head with a suit of black, curly hair, and put upon his face a good coat of long whiskers, and stand him in the door of his smithy, clad in his every day garments, with his shirt sleeves rolled up above his elbows and a leather apron fastened about his waist with long leather strings, sweep a cheer ful smile over his face and you have a life-size picture of John Brooke. Place back of him the glowing forge and the black anvil, the oid wagon wheels and broken plows, and you have one of the characters of western life, full of hope. strength, honesty and patience. The mistress of the household, the mother of his child, and whom John Brooke loved with all the strength of a manly heart, his wife, was as nearly his opposite as could be, and just such a woman as the student of physiology would have selected for him, that the marriage would be perfectly computable. She was slightly above medium height, plump, voluptous. a well rounded out form, with light hair, blue eyes, and fair complexion. A picture of health, a type of beauty, with a htfypy heart, as a woman's heart always is before the shadows fall. A soul so pure and innocent it scarcely imagines that any soul could be vile. A hope so strong that it rose like a rainbow above every ill. Tt opened the-sky of her future life with the tinted bow of promise. She was at all times happy and content. She ha 1 the love of husband and child, without which a woman's life is void. It is a desert, with it, it is the bloom of spring and the fruit of autumn. Within this little cottage was a golden-haired girl, the only child. The resurrection of her mother, in nature, appearance and cor-r'exion. Nature sometimes, under the peculiar psychological impiPF'I-ms of surroundings from soul-life does strange things and uncommon things. A genius is born to a dolt, a devil has an angel for a mother as Cain was Eve's first born. So sometimes a girl looks like her mother or a boy resembles his father, while the reverse is nearly always true, and should always be. The girl that is like her mother in appearance and complexion is too gentle and yielding, and too sweet for 'her own good. Beauty without will power in this world is like a frail flower unsheltertl In a storm. So the boy who inhen's too much of his father's nature is too coarse and harsh. The heart of this girl was always hapry. fearing and suspicionlng nothing. Her eyes were like two wooing blue bells, and in strong contrast with the rows of pearls between her lips. No morning that ever dawned upon (Vdar Dell was as fair as her young face; no rose that bloomed in the valley matched those upon her cheeks. Kind words seemed to tinge her ruby lips with that indescribable something about a beaut iful woman's mouth that poetry never described, that brush never portrayed. Her hair wa-s golden threads of ether'ial sunlight, soditied and tangled in ten thousand curls with that disarranged elegance that is found only in the rural country places. It is never seen in the city, at the opera, nor at the fashionable resorts. It is the sweet suggetion of pure, simple, chaste childhood, and hides away from the touch of the vulgar creed of fashion.. One most striking feature about this strange, dreamy, laughing face was the only feature she had stolen from her father. Though her hair was golden her brows and lashes were dark and long, adding to her exquisite face just a tinge of the melancholy that always enhances beauty. Merriment under a dark veil, bringing to the beholder with the first sight of the girl some thought of widowhood eyes in mourning. Her form was all that an arWst could have asked as a mod-1, an animated Venus, that had transformed her marble into real flesh and blood. The bust had rounded out from the flat aspect of girlhood to the rotundity of early womanhood as the buds bloom into the rose. Thus sweeps a girl to the most dangerous point in all her life. Nature, e're she is aware of it. launches this gay beautiful, fascinating, intensified but frail bark of female humanity upon a stormy, serglng tempest-swept sea. before the creature realizes that she is ofT for a mysterious voyage, through which but few sails pass and reach the haven untc-rn and unsolled. This was Sparkle Brooke at seventeen. No beautiful country girl, voluptous, full of life and love and human nature, reaches seventeen without a lover. 'Tis true when she is a grandmother she don't think this first was a lover, but she did fifty years ago. Opportunities being equal, the girl of sevnteen is much more apt to love a man of thirty than one of her own age. A woman Is prone to admire strength, safe, steady manhood; while the man of thirty will much more quickly love the girl of seventeen. We love most that which we lack most. As he has passed the age of childhood with its gentleness, and as life must have both strength and gentleness to be perfect, he longs, even passionately and restlessly, for the young and tender to lean upon his breast, that he may say "life Is perfect. Strength with tenderness and beauty. Six months before Sparkle's seventeenth birthday there came to Cedar Dell from the Kast. a younc man. perhaps twenty-five years old tall, straight as a line, well formed, black hair, olive complexion, dark eyes, exactly her opposite, and a good type of the finer and taller Italian. His mother was a native of Italy. nd his father was a Frenchman, an unfortunate parentage for any child. He inherits cunning from one. deceit from the other, and passion from both. He was the type of manhoiKl that would attract the admiration and love of every woman. He was affable, courteous, alwavs neatly dressed, oblipin?. gentle. tut back of all imierious, heartless, feellngless, as selfish as Satan, and as Immodest as Calagnla. As a notorious French Rambler his father had collected a considerable sum of money, and by care and shrewdness he had ad'ied largely to it. At the time of the date I am writing about, he had come West and invested a lare amount In coal mines and found his home transferred from an eastern city to a western village in the woods. His early manhood was spent with such city women as the sun of a gambler might find who had plentv of money to pay the hills. In this furnace of human passion, called city fast life, all that bettor, purer, and the sweeter nature had been burned out. He had educatd himself to believe there were but two classes of women, the soiled and the simple. The smart were always bad. the good were always Ignorant. With all such men Jealousy Is a leading- trait of the mind. Thus he came from the "solle J doves" ' from eastern cities to the spotless, defenseless girl. From scarlet vice, to a purity that could not even believs that others were vile. Purity is strength, ignorance is weakness. Add to the purity wisdom and you crown It with a power that no assault can overthrow. In the education of every girl knowledge of the darkest side of humanity should enter, then she recognizes it whn it approaches. Between the dark, tall man and the voluptuous blond womnn there Is an Indescribable and overpowering, lrresistabl affinity a fascination tit, heightened and favored by cunning on one hand and implicit fidelity without suspicion on the other, drives human nature what the Niagara river is above the falls a tide that sweeps over the vortex into th plunge. When Carl Bran. Ion came to Cedar Dell it Is useless to say that he was the lion of the occasion. Bich, handsorn, elegant. No picnic was enjoyed without him esl pecially by the trlrls; we cannot say that the boys enjoyed his company so much At every party he was the chief guest at every "dance" the leading man. and a superb figure when upon the floor, reallv an indispensable element to the backwoods ballroom. He was well versed In the rules and regulations of the quadrille, but when it came to the "French four" he had to receive his education in the village At first the young men felt a little piqued and quite Jealous of the newcomer, and not without a cause, for he was the favorite of every woman in town, but as the young men knew him better they liked him more.

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Lpon a longer stay, however, he was not loved by certain married men whose wives had not yet reached that old and shriveled condition that bars the gate to impressions and flirtations, or eUher did not know or care that the foolishness and indescretions of a pretty but gidly woman plant thorns beneath innocent pillows that make domestic slumbers uncertain. Carl Brandon's life had not been patterned after the chaste ways of virgins, nor had he been educated to regard the happiness of others as sacred. French intrigue and Italian cunning, one Inherited from the father and the other from the mother, had so dominated his life that a selfish nature filled all parts of his selfish being. For him to know he had made ome heart uneasy was truly a fascinating relish, and understanding quite will that pretty women are usually correspondingly vain and not always as conscientious as beautiful, never failed to recognize the avenue of an approach, and frequently left nls acquaintances to return by the path of reproach. In short, Carl was shrewd, brjght. witty, handsome, cunning, corrupt and thoroughly dishonest. Sparkle Brooke heard the talk of the town. The hints, the winks, the mysterious nodding of th crones' heads, were all familiar to her. She knew all the gossip about Carl Brandon and the flirts of Cedar Dell. but. like a girl, she did not believe it, and the more evidence there was offered the more determined she was to believe it was not true. She saw only the fine, handsome, well-dressed, genial man. io all the gossip and all the scandal she would simply say she did not believe it. How very blind a girl Is when in love tue first time. She believes no ill report, she sees only perfection, and imagines his every deformity of character is only the outgrowth of strong affection for her. Bater in life, when she becomes a disappointed woman, wedded, but not to her first ideal, every unselfish sacrifice and devotion on the part of the truest man, she regards with suspicion, as springing from a deep, selfish motive. But so it is with some women, all love and fidelity early, all suspicion late.

CHAPTER II. Itecrults. One morning as John Brooke was working merrily at hid forge, the ring of the anvil sending the music of toil out and down the village streets, a song that said to him, as the sparks flashed from the glowing: iron and the bellows puffed and muttered in fanning the fire, that all this meant a.tjood home in old age fox him and his devoted wife and plenty to keep them during: the declining years, when decrepitude and helplessness that has to lean upon the savings of earlier days or be a burden to children or society. While working, whistling and humming snatches of songs and again dashing the sparks from the hot metal. Sparkle, all excitement, eyes wide open and almost breathless, rushed Into her father's presence to beg him to come to the door of the smithy quick, and see what was to her almost an Inspiration. Turning, he heard for the first time the strains of martial music as a little band of men approached from the farther end of the village, with fife and drum and flags flying. This was the first call Cedar Dell had had from the recruiting officers, asking for men to go to the front in the dark days of '61. As the squad advanced through the street the music called every villager from the house and the gleam of the stars and stripe- in the morning sun that flowed like an etherial flood from the cedar-clad hills, filling every breast with patriotism and every heart with love of country. Cheer after cheer went up from the by-stnnders as onward they advanced toward the center of the town, where they were surrounded by every man, woman and child in the village, thus accomplishing what was desired. The villagers had been called out to hear a speech from a recruiting officer calling for volunteers for the Union. When the music had ceased. Col. Abner, who had followed the band in a carriage, ros from his seat, took off his hat and proposed three cheers for the stars and stripes and the Union, which was responded to with a will that woke the echoes of the very cedars, and the hanging vines seemed to tremble on the crags above. He made a short address, saying: "My countrymen, American' liberty has been assaulted by the bloody dagger of treason and is prostrate, lying upon the couch where rest the safety of your home and my home. The call for aid Is loud and clear, and if not answered immediately the Union is disrupted and the nation will sink. Who will enlist and bare his bosom to the enemies of his country? Who will stay the advancing horde of traitors? We, this little squad, have not come to say 'go but we entreat you to 'come,' go with us, share the fates of war and wear the laurels of victory." Many cheers greeted the colonel's speech, and almost every able-bodied man in the village enlisted. This was followed by i general handshaking, and the villagers, with one accord, seemed to catch the same idea. Every one Retook himself to his home to return quickly with whatever eatables he might find there, and all gathered at the little tavern, donating their part, and such a good, big, old-fashioned dinner had never been seen before or perhaps since in Cedar Dell. The new recruits were given three days furlough in which to get ready to be transported to the nearest point on the river, thence by boat to the front. After the excitement was over and the ardor of impulsive nature had cooled there was more than one sad heart in the town. They had not fully realized as yet, what the army meant; that it meant to enlist and go to the front to be shot at and to shoot at others. This really meant war. It meant long, hard, fatiguing marches; it meant small and unfrequent meals; It meant weary limbs and aching heads; It meant camp fever; it meant disease and privation: it meant miserable hours in lonely tents far from the smile and kiss of home; it meant, perhaps, to be domineered over by a petty tyrant, who unfortunately wore shoulder straps. It meant, perhaps, to be treated less kindly than they hd treated their dogs at home; It meant, perhaps, to die on the battlefield under the starles3 clouds of war. and to be Ditched like dead animals into unmarked and nameless graves. But this 1 war. Cruel, relentless, awful. But over it all vain humanity has written ";iory." When John Brooke had gne home and sat down and thought it over, he realized the awfulness of the step he had taken. and yet he could not retrace it, nor did he want to. To him It meant something terrible. It meant to leave his wife, the only woman he had ever loved, or who had ever loved him. It meant to leave his little girl; to perhaps never again hear the sweet song of "Sparkle," as she gathered the roses in the yard that bloomed by the path. It meant hardship to that wife and child, for their support was his daily toil, as there was laid by but a few dollars. To the wealthy otricer, who had a great bank account, the government unwisely gave much, but to the poor pri vate who left a helpless family behind it gave a mere pittance and paid that in depreciated currency: ana not infre quently the helpless little ones at home were robbed by the extortion or the shylock who kept the corner grocery. ' John Brooke's heart grew heavy and still more heavy, like clouds that ad vance before the coming storm, and he thought, "Can I leave those whom I love?" and then the thoueht came back "My country dies," and like a true pa triot and brave man he said. "All for my country." His good wife bore upas best she might, hiding her tears as he hid his sorrow. It meant to her the bearing of all the burdens he had kindly laid upon his own shoulders. How would she feed and clothe Sparkle and keep the household together? Hut with the faith of a true woman and the semifatalistic ideas of her sex she said, "All will be well." bowed her head In sorrow ana resoivea to ao ner auiy. CIIAPTF.R III. The Departure. When the day arrived for the recruits to leave Cedar Dell, again the little village was all astir, all commotion. I? was an event never to be forgotten. Long, sad farewells were spoken, while the martial music and bugle call urged them to be hasty. The young lover aid Kood-by and promised a speedy

return to claim the waiting girl with many fair hopes for a brighter future. Husbands kissed the tear-bathed cheeks of wives and turned away with heavy hearts. Fathers held laughing babies in their arms and kissed their little faces again and again, seriously realizing that, perhaps, even the biby would' grow gray with age ere the sire's return. But such is that catastrophe of war that grows out of the ignorance and mistakes of men that we wrongly say must be washed out with blood, but makes a crimson stain,' a deeper dye that will take long years of kindness and patience to remove. Harshness never heals a wound in state any more than it does in the human heart. Love alone can bridge the chasm of iiate and carry the foes across. There is no case on record where the battle has not lef more hate than existed before it. It requires the statesmanship of ages to undo the wrongs of one bloody field. When John Brooke said good-by to his beautiful daughter, and gave her the last kiss he ever pressed upon her lips, his demeanor seemed to undergo a mysterious change. Something seemed to fay: "This is the last farewell." Some unexplained presence was there as It Is everywhere in human affairs, shaping destinies, giving thorns to one, roses to another; water to one, to anotner wormwood and galL This is life, a game of change, where bitter and sweet is all mixed; smiles and frowns, tears and laughter, and then sleep. The father looked at the golden hair of the child that he so often had combed and brushed, that his own big, clumsy fingers had tied with blue ribbons; he looked at those dimpled hands, exquisite, beautiful, and he remembered when he first taught her at eventide to fold them together and say: "Now I lay me down to sleep." In all human grief, what Is so sad as a soldier's farewell to his child? He did not regard his daughter, however, a young woman. He thought her but a simple-minded child. He did not know that even she. his bright-eyed little girl, had ever dreamed of love. He did not know that that mysterious something that promised all joy, but that is always bathed in tears had introduced itself to Sparkle. Again the bugle calls, and the small squad of men take their positions, and for the first time try to keep step as the corporal calls out in keeping the time of the drum: "left left," and each man straightens himself up, conscious of the fact that he is to be a soldier.

The bright morning sun lovingly kisses their red, white and blue, in whose folds hide the stars of liberty. Down the street they went with their good-byes, their tears and cheers. As they advanced to the top of the hill and "about face" to look back upon the little, quiet, flower-cheered village, with the brook that divides it like a broad band of silver, each man doffed his hat to give it a good-bye, and then over the hill, and lost as morning lost in night. Kach villager tried to comfort the other as best grief may soothe dispalr. Tears offering solace to groans. Mothers gathered their little children about them and felt an awful loneliness that only the remnant of a broken family can feel. Sparkle's mother had withdrawn to the house that her eyes might relieve the fulness of her heart, that sobs might soothe the soul and give way to weeping that sometimes is the only relief. The girl remained at the gate, with a heart too heavy, a burden too great to bear, crying and wondering. Carl Brandon, who had remained to see the soldiers depart, saw his opportunity to make a still deeper impression upon the sensitive nature, to warp more her flexible heart. Approaching Sparkle with that graceful bearing, the product of long studied effort, extending his hand and expressing a real grief, and yet not void of all satisfaction, for while It hurt htm to see her sorrow, he was not sorry that her father had left town. Taking her half unwilling hand in his, and looking at her reluctantly half upturned fc.ca and seeing those beautiful eyes swlming in tears, he realized for the first time that he loved the girl, and yet his vicious nature was so overpowering it made him mad at himself that he should be so weak a to love a prospective victim. He said, looking earnestly and trying to look honestly into her eyes, ir i i , i - m a. i ?parKie urwue, ycur gner loucnes my I heart, your sorrow Is my misery. I pity I you with a feeling I have never known ! before." Here his lips quivered, his hand j trembled, she seemed all emotion. He I could speak no further. Seeing they ; were observed by the villagers, he qulckly gained his reserve and said, "Meet me at the bower this evening and let us talk." The day of the departure of the recruits was largely one of grief, but the demands of life, the necessity of existence, must eventually overcome all sentiment and sadness. We must turn from the coffin to the plow, from the tomb and the temple to the shop ind the mine. The walling for the dead must give way to the laugh of the living. So, after all, the villager returned to his work at the bench and in the garden, thinking, pondering, working, now planing the board, then laying down the plane among the curled up shavings to gaze steaJily in deep meditation, looking at what he did not see, thinking of what he could not comprehend; the division of the nation, the blood of lt3 people. Then again be starts quickly to work and seems to forget the far away fields of carnage, to again drop into his former reverie. The busy housewife had to lay aside continuous weeping and take up the everyday duties of life and the common drudgery of woman's toil. Cooking, to ease the bungei" of little mouths, patches on worn out garments, washing or ironing, all demanding attention. With a heavy heart she goes about the duties. Grief and duty, grief may be duty. As the, sun wearies of the day and seems to grow tired of its own brightness, and sinks into night for rest, so weary hearts await the darkness. A few more duties remained for the lonely wives of Cedar Dell. The cow is to feed, the cow ts to milk, and lastly, a half ick baby must be lulled to slumbers on a weary mother's breast, and with a rockaby song, day fades, while night deepens, light fails, and the Dell goes to sleep. On the hilltop the light seemed to woolngly linger. In the valley where Cedar Dell slumbered dark came more quickly. The deep gloom from tie shadows of the western hills broken here and there by a light in the window that sent out a glow making the darkness visible about it, till the curtain was drawn and all was black. Through these Hhadows and these dreams a tall, erect figure was seen walking with a proud, half indifferent step for a few paces, then stopping, listening, as if holding his breath lest the least noise should prevent the footfall he hoped to hear. Again he walks on. glances down every street, he passes the last house in the outskirts of the town and feels a relief, as much as to say the last picket is behind, the guard is in the rear. Onward, slowly, he walks, meditating till he reaches the winding, steep path that led to the bower, and as he step by step ascends, at every exertion he thinks, "Will she be there. I wonder?" Something said she would, something said she would not, and thus N hope and fear swung like a pendulum from one extreme to the other and wore his patience away. Still onward, slowly, stealthily he went, pushing the rose bushes to either side and the vines that hung across the path, till bo reached what we have called the "bower." Here Carl Brandon sat down' to wait the arrival of Sparkle Brooke. While setting here meditating, that always comes with silence was present to first philosophise upon his condition, what he was, and what his purposes were, then to condemn his most unworthy life, and to appeal to his better nature to make a stubborn fight against bis inherited villainy. As he sat upon the improvised bench, where he had sat by the side of Sparkle Brooke many evenings during the summer, but where she had never remained until darkness came, he now sat all alone in darkness, but yet not so dark as the shadows that fell over his soul. He was there to meet a creature who Reemed to be a veritable angel in beauty as she was in soul a creature Whose pure young life could not even

remotely comprehend what human depravity could conceive. A few days before, when he sat there by her side in the evening, laughing and talking beneath the wild roses that clung to cliff and limb and shrub, and mingled their blushing blooms with the deep green of the grape leaves, and the deeper green of the ivy, and wooir.gly pressed their cheeks to the saffron-colored, wild touch-me-not, and where sang the birds at morning, noon and evening as if they were all one Joyou3 hour, and where he had sat and merrily chatted with the innocence of youth, now he gloomily sat alone a picture of the depravity of maturer years. He said to himself: "What a fool I am to be getting in love with a simple little girl." Love has conscience; a man of the world doesn't want that. With love and conscience we are miserable; without either we may find some happiness in this feverish dream called life. "Why should we love and weep and break our hearts for others when even our loving them makes them miserable as it makes us? Just today we saw the simple, fond husband cry because he left a woman who was neither fair nor fine, and who would have, perhaps, been better off had she neither seen nor loved him. Love means marriage; marriage, slavery. To get into love is to become anxious, is to become uneasy, and to have no gay times, no flirtations. No, no, a wise man must let his sweetheart do the loving, and he the scheming, and yet I must confess to myself there is something about her unassumed life that has a charm that makes me feel uneasy and excites my pity. She is alone, father gone to war, for which I am really thankful. I fear he suplcioned me, but Carl Brandon must be himself." Thus soliloquised this human vampire. He had taught himself to believe all the world w;is vile, the second lesson was to surpass the world In villainy. He starts he heard the rustle of garments in the thorns, he heard a foot-fall on the path. Why did his heart beat faster than before, and why did he hold his breath to listen for another step. Really he was afraid, and of what? his own conscience. On approaches his visitor, and he wonders if it Is Sparkle. In the darkness he cannot see, he can but hear and think. Ah. he sees a form, it stops, hesitates, then approaches slowly, then it disappears. He hears a murmur, as if some one was talking low, and wonders what it can be. Rising, he cautiously approaches, step by step, nearer, stopping, listening all the time, hearing the same low murmur, going nearer, and again that mysterious presence that he could never understand barred the way, and he was forced to withdraw and wait upon the bench for results, whatever they might be. Nearer be would have seen Sparkle kneeling. The low talk stops, again he hears a tread; a lighter.quicker step than before, and Sparkle stood by him a lamb for the slaughter. A sacrifice for devil worship. Innocence in a cave of serpents. Gazing Into his face steadily through the shadows for a moment, th frightened girl extended her hand and said: "Why am I here? It is awful." With a shrewdness disguising himself, Carl replied: "Nothing Is awful that Sparkle docs, your presence gives my heart peace, your words bring to my empty life a comfort that passes all understanding. Why, I know not." These words he truly felt, for the time being he was really honest. Holding h r reluctant, trembling hand, he pressed it to his lips, kissed it often, and every kiss sent a thrill through every drop of

her young blood. Two lives had been changed. For the time being the man of sin was transformed into an angel of light, the innocent girl into a flame of fire. It was an uncommon event for both. He was unused to the purity of youth, she began to catch the contagion, but only for an instant both lives assumed their normal state, he is the villain now and she stands forth the sinless child. She sees the yawning gulf upon whose verge she played. The paradise his better soul opened is closed again. Her thoughts returned to the light, his to the night, and as they sat side by side so near in body, between their souls was a universe of space he could not cross a measureless chasm to her. She shuddered at the thought of approaching him. Kach loved as only a man and woman can love. She loved with a high, exalted, divine pity, a love that belongs to that supreme idealism that lifts its creatures up to God and carries with them a holy conten, a blessed satisfaction that would make them supremely happy even in the confines of hell. While it Is In the soul no evil can enter. He loved her not the less devotedly , but less purely. He was of the earth, earthly. Nothing in his nature was above the coursest human passion, polished for the sake of conquest. Her ambition in loving him was to save him from himself, and make him worthy of her love. He loved her with the animal instincts, base as they may be, are not withall uncommon. Neither understood the other. He- was as iguorant of her life as she of his. Lord Bacon has said: "We can only understand what we experience." We never understand another person's life until we experience their thoughts, feelings, and are surrounded as they. For this reason the world is full of strangers.., The rich cannot comprehend, from their mansions, how the poor feel in their hovels. The honest cannot conjecture why the dishonest steal, or the kind, why the brutal murder. Sparkle first told him how her heart sank when she saw her father vanish as he went over the hill, how all the world seemed to change and put on a black veil of mourning. He thought: "How like her eyes." She told him how she wondered about the living for herself and mother, and If her father would come back, and how in the sadness of her life .-he turned herself to the bower that night, knowing she ought not to have come, knowing it was not prudent for a young girl to do so, and yet her grief from the events of the day and her unwavering faith in him seemed to draw her onward. The rehearsal of these events was too much for her feelings and she gave way to tears. Truly a helpless child. Leaning toward him, he gave her head a rest upon his bosom, stroking her hair, soothed her with kind words, telling her let come what may she should never want, he would be her friend, her protector, and asked her If she could believe him. would she trust him? She had trusted him already too far. She could answer only by clinging more closely, and for the first time in her life she felt the indescribable helplessness of a girl who feels all alone in the world. How natural it was to want some arm to lean upon, and that arm she was leaning upon she felt around her waist, where, save her father's, no man's arm had been. She felt the burning kisses of a passionate lover upon her lips that swept like a flood-tide all the bearer of her timidity away. For a moment the creatures are again transformed she is human, he, enchanced with her fidelity and her beauty was carried higher. Silence, each thinking, each wondering, each doubting. The poor, timid girl seems Just ready to enter a hell of shame, and he a paradise of reform. She recoils from the danger and shudders; he withdraws and sighs; neither kmrvs the feelings of the other, nor can they comprehend. She passing out of his reach, said: "Before I reached the bower I had prayed for guidance and protection, and I still pray for that." The frightened girl seemed to him surrounded by a halo of light, and he said half aloud, "Can she be human?" For the first time he saw himself as he truly was a wretch seeking to destroy the peace of the only grl that ever loved him. Of all on earth he who has defiled the life of the pure and innocent is the most vile, is the most accursed, is the most inhuman wretch God permits to live. Not even within the smutted walls of the infernal regions Is there one so lost j that he would drag the innocent down, j His every thought should be an eternity . of woe. The evils of life, can never justly bring retribution for all his wrong, nor the ages of eternity cancel his ill. While he meditated and Sparkle trembled a voice burst forth from the

! shadows of the bushes a strange, un

earthly voice, but well understod. "A whole life of good cannot undo one wrong." Seeming to follow that strange voice Sparkle passed beyond Carl Brandon's sight, and was swallowed up in the darkness. CHAPTER IV. The First Rattle. The little squad of men that enlisted a.t Cedar Dell had quite a long and w-earisome march to reach the river. It seemed so to them then, but month j later would not have been considered so long, however, it was not devoid of amusement, though barren of any striking incidents. When they reached the river many of them for the first time beheld a stream of water so large, and as there is always something charming and fascinating about a river, so was the broad, silvery flood more than interesting to them for several reasons. First it was the dividing line between patriotIsm and treason. On this side all "nearts beat loyal to the government, on that side, all was rebellion. Here the stars and stripes floated defiant, there the stars and bars waved in the breeze. Here union songs wrent the air, on that fide "rebel yell" shook the very sky. The two conditions obtaining on different sides of this dividing line was a strong proof of the fact that, after all, we are only what circumstances lot us be, and that sentiment control Is a thousand while philosophy rules but one, and, furthermore, an evidence that we often imagine we are Insulted when nobody but ourselves dreamed of offense, and after our quarrels and fights, we not infrequently discover that we rould have settled the trouble much better before the conflict than after it. Wounds are deeper after many strokes than before one. Scars of war are very bard to forget and ages do not efface them. Will Ireland ever cease to quarrel about the battle of the Boyne? Can France ever forget Waterloo? Or Kngland Bunker hill? So with a misguided conflict between the kinsmen on the different sides of Mason and Dixon's line, the roar of the battles, the bursting of the shells, the cheers of the victors, the groans of the dying from Bull Run to Appomattox, will echo from North to South, from East to West,, through every political campaign, at every great meeting, in the halls of congress or the lowest hovel for the next hundred years. Kvery monument erected to the valor and fidelity of the soldiers on either side will throw a shadow in some direction whence curses will float back. Little did this squad of men think, as they stood upon the bank of the river waiting for a coming steamboat to carry them to the battle fields, that the closing of the war would be but the opening of political mali e and intrigue, fostered by two great sectional parties, one in the North and the other in the South, whose leaders and officeseekers Mould untiringly labor day and night, year in and year out. to keep up the sectional hate and prevent a brother ly love from sealing the nation once more as one and all that they might get an office and live off of the government No traitor was ever such an enemy of his country as he who pej-petuates the hate and animosities of war that he might draw a revenue from the treasury of the nation. As the cloud of smoke cleared from Appomattox, how blessed, how thrice blessed it would have been if the black wings of human hate that shadowed north and south could have malted into the sunlight of love and peace. While we have but two sectional parties, so long as there Is no great tiational party that will take an equal interest in every section of the country, so long will this political hate go on. While standing by the river thinking first of home and then of the prospective battlefields, looking up the river, listening for the coming steamer. that they momentarily expected to see coming round the bend but "Hark," said the corporal, "isn't that her whistle?" Then could be heard, from far up the river, that characteristic steamboat echo that seems nearly as loud several miles away as when the listener is on deck. A deep, semi-mournful, tremulous bellow that suggests some monster or infuriated animal who Is capable of shaking the hills down with his terrible voice. Beginning with a low, half-mur-mer, between a pur and a hum, and growing louder and louder as more steam rushes through the many little whistles grouped around the one great whistle, all together standing above the upper deck, near the funnels. The younger men of the company, and several of the older ones as well, had never heard such a sound before, and could have as easily been led to think it the roar of the battle as an escape of rushing steam. When that was still nothing more of the boat could be heard. Long they waited and watched as the shadows from the west lengthened their black forms, and widened their proportions, to shut the sunlight from off the fair, bright bosom of the broad flowing stream. Now the highest peak of the opposite hill throws its apex 'shadow on the glistenirujr waves and slowly starts to cross to thr eastern shore as it had done for hundreds of thousands of summers before, as the eastern hills would call back their shadows from the western shore every morning. Time repeating the advance and retreat of time. Now sunlight flames in the eastern sky, and the shadows of the eastern hills hang over the river like a veil on the bright face oi Joy. and slowly as the sun climbs the burnished sky. the shadows withdraw steadily, inch by inch, from the western shore until the veil Is lifted and hid away under the brow of the hill from whence it floated out. In midday the river laughs on under the sun, at high twelve, and at eventide another shadow steals out from the hill as the one in the morning had stolen back. This is life. Sunshine and shadow. Between two eternities, the past and the future, both casting rays of light to be shut out by gloom and darkness from their tops and in the valleys below. The river of life flows on nor stops for sunshine or shadows, nor rests beneath clouds, nor tarries where starlight falls. 'Tis on and on forever, sweeping toward the distant ocean whose countless billows swallow it up. and its Infinite Journey, though unseen, in the fathomless bosom, is eternally on. As all rivers forever flow to the sea and rise in a vapor-like spirit mist to fall upon the earth, and call forth the blushing flowers to bloom in their time, so all life drifts back to the great unmeasured sea of eternity, to again, perhaps, arise, vapor-like, and fall down like drops here and there to again be gathered to .the channel that bears them to the bosom that holds all life. As the sun sank low the shadowed side of the hills became wrapped in darker green, more somber. Here and there where the last rays of the sun stole between the dividing boughs of the trees, or pierced the valley that led to the water; the river was touched with a flame of gold, and every wave tinged with the gleam of a diamond. Fire upon a flood. The swallow skimming the surface of the water, touched the wave and rose as another followed. Circle after circle of these little, black children of the sky chased the fleeting hours, glistening through the sunshine and darting through the shadows, as If they meant to get all the pleasure that could be found in one short hour. Ah! little plumed philosopher, how much wiser you are than men. you do not slay each other that one may have a better nest. Again the deep sound of the steamboat whistle gave evidence that it was nearer than before, but nothing was seen. Every eye scanned the river from bank to bank where It seemed to end in that peculiar, mysterious way that rivers have In making us believe they stop Just yonder, where the hills upon opposite banks seem to meet. Looking to the distant hills across the river, the little group of soldiers saw some movements that they did not understand. With the aid of a field-glass, the corporal had with him, they watched this.

and the corporal with a knowing look said: "That looks threatening, keep your eyes open, boys, there's trouble for our boat." As the steamer would not likely reach the landing, where they were waiting, for some hours, and as they were hungry and tired, they, soldier-like, proposed to have something to eat and soma coffee, and all went about gathering driftwood from the bank for a fire. As the commissary department fellows, each fished out of his knapsack, which still held some of the good thtngs from home and none. of the "hardtack" they were to become acquainted with, later. But best of ail to them was the decoction of coffee with its active principle

! of caffine that stimulates the brain ! and tones the nervous system till the I weary hearts peat stronger and the tired 1 brain becomes brilliant. While som j were cooking others were chatting about j soldier life as far as they had gone, ani about the loved ones left in Cedar Dell. Opinion was given why thi mm went to war and why that one did not, and all seemed to think it strange that Carl Rrandon, who was of a roving, daring life, did not acconipany them. Some said Carl was a coward, and some said he was not loyal, others said he remained at home to make money off his coal mines, and some secretly intimated it was because he was in lot e. None dreamed of the real cause of t ail's remaining at home. Supper was ready, the sun was down, the night was deepening, but not a sound had been heard since they began cooking the meal. They waited anxiously, not knowing how soon the enemy would come upon them, but knowing that there were enimies in that part of the country. It was almost a daily occurrence for confederates to cross the river, appropriate a few horses and return to their own side. The little croup, after rating their suppers, sat about the fire, lighted by a fresh dry stick of driftwood, and spent the. time watching, talking, listening till the darkness of approaching reht was perfect. The shadows of the hills had long since deepened into the bla k pall of starless darkness, for neither moon nor stars looked thnnieh the veil of clouds that hung like sable curtain from tre sky. Again up the river in the same direction, but possibly some nearer, once more thy heard the I -w. heavy blowing of the whistle, announcing the advance of the steamer. It came through the gloom of the night to the lonesome, homesick, tired, meloncholly men like the intonations of grief, deepened into a groan of expiring anguish. It came like a warning, like an omen. To them it mant something ntirely different from what the first call did in the alternoon. Being men whose lives wer of a homelike nature, common place, lighted only by the literature of th backwoods fireside and the weird, superstitious stories of Cedar Dell, they were more than pron to weave every shadow and every unaccustomed sound Intosom warning. soni token. To thnT everything was a cabalism. Spirits and phantoms, ditif.s and devils lurked under every shadow, hid in every cave, filled th bla k air with blac ker wings that melted in the first gleam of the morning sun. Before science carries her effulgent lamp Into the gloom of the human mind. all there is darkness, fear, superstition. Kvery phenomenon of nature Is th work of some good or bad spirit, all is a chaos, a jumble, nature but chance. When this hallowed lamp lights this uncanny gloom, all is order, system, arrangement. Devils fade into myths and the flames of hell are quenched by th showers of reason. The work of priestcraft is relegated to caves, fake slows, and human Intelligence mounts th throne of its imperial destiny. wavs the torch of intellectual day, and forever emancipates the conscience of th children of men. The corporal, looking across the rlvef to the hills that now seem inky spc ters, watched the spot where they had seen suspicious movements before sundown. He having seen service at the front, knew the importance of watching as well as praying, and did the watching well at least. While thus gazlna through the nignt at the hills, he saw what he quickly detected to be a signal light from the enemy. Utm first sieht of this, hissing between his teeth and tongue, "s-h-e-e-," commanding profound silence, in a low voice said: "Watch that light across the river." The light seemed to be that of a hickory bark torch, fixed for a .no;nnt in one place, then it moved upward, perhaps as far as a. man might reach, then to the left, then downward, then disapeared. R"ippearing it moved upward and downward, disappearing, reappearing, described a circle, disappeared, making the sign of the cross, loup or half circle below. Again it disappeared and reappeared once mote, making five waving motions and was seen no more. The corporal was evidently very anxiovis to know what thi.-i meant, so, reaching into his pocket htook out an old yellow envelope that bore a postmark of Atlanta, Ga., and removltig from that a well-worn shet. of letter paper, covered by curious mark which he studied by the fire a few minutes, arising, commanded the men hastily: "Come away from this fire. Gather up what you have and come back in th thicket, and light the dark lantern for me. but don't turn th bull's-eye toward the other side." Continuing, he said: "Just opposite us there Is a mask bat. tery in the willows at the bend, and that signal at the hi!l is warning thm of th; approach of a union boat and directing them to open fire upon her before a landing is made, and I must go up the river as quickly as possible and hail th boat to land before she gets in reach of the battery. Tou may follow as soon as jou hear the boat signal to round in. you will have plenty of time to reach th bank before the stage is cast out." So saying, without more words h stole out beneath the bushes and went up tn river half a mile, where he sat awaiting the boat. He did not wait Iotir- untli the green and red lights seemed to burn small holes through the blackness of the night and he heard again the whistle short and low, twice, and the measured beat of music made by the tireless wheels that carelessly fanned the water backward and sent the boat forward. He gave signal after signal, but tor zmn reason neither the pilot, mate or captain saw the light. Again and again he tried to attract attention, but failed. Onward came the boat into line with the masked battery. As the boat was passing him, he called and, for the first time, attracted attention, explaining the danger and telling them to land, but the current lcing heavy, and the pilot not being well acquainted with the channel, did not control the steamer as readily as he desired'and was carried down full into the battery before they could round In. A flash of light in the bushes on the opposite bank, accompanied by the crash of thunder, and the next instant followed by the sound as a solid sht struck on of the wheels ofthe boat and carrlet away part of its timber. Again and again the flash of light came up. ani again and again the boat was struck. Kvery shot seemed to be a good on. Finally a shell exploded in the engineroom, killing the engineer. The boat in striking the bank was stuck in the mud so he-ivily she wa anchored there. The cannonading kept up from the confederate side. The federals were truiy mad by this time, to be ferior number and attacked by an indisiibled. for their boat was helpless, carrying no artillery whatever. One of the many foolish things done during the first days of the rebellion was to send defenseless wooden boats down rivers to be attacked by batteries. The steamer, however, was w II equipped wtth small boats and tlies were lowered at the command of th colonel, and well armed with soldiers, among whom were our new recruits, called by request jf their corporal, whej wanted them to see some service. If there is any servic that is frightful and uncertain, it is to put green troops in lit tle wooden skiffs, as these were place!, ami start them into the river on a dark night to hunt an enemy, rerhaps one hundred men in all were placed into th boats while the rest of the regiment, a full thousand, on the bank, but away from the boat the rebels were firing