Mineral Point tribune. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1854-1858, 1857-02-17
c II 4 P T ER VII
PARTED STREAMS.

and searching to old and young blood ;
Christmas is fading away, to be among
spectral Christmases Of past centuries; re-
joicing and rcveI are in full force among
the delighted little people, while bIasphe-
my and hunger, and misery untold and un-
| thought Of, where unseen, rule dominant
in neighborhoods that mock the eye with
their living libels's on mans existence.
And John Wylde stands before the
house Of Trueworthy Grip. A change is
on it-a strange change, too. Is the old
man dead, and he toe late, and new peo-
| pie come into the house? Lights are in
the second floor as may be seen through
the partially drawn curtains, and light.
a dim one there, is in the parlor devoted
to the home Office work What can it
mean? If he should be dead, and he not
to have seen him. yVylde walks pas
slonately to and fro, elbowing passengers
rudely, but unconsciously,n never seeking
to apologize, and being cursed again and
Iagain for churlish brute, of which he
hears nothing, and seems to see nothing
but the house Of his enemy and the appa-
| rent change. Beca comes up at last on
his canvass, and the father crushes all
else out. His life, in all its wild reck-
'Iessness and waste of natures bounty.
passes in panoramic hideousness; what
he might have been, and what he was,
smote him like knife. Where was she ?
1.-THE only one whose love he could lay
claim TOO, bu. had SO wilfully forfeited.
Were her wrongs vapory nothings? ? IF
angels mourned over another MagdeIene.
to whose dread account in the dark and
Iinscrutable hereafter would the loss Of
that young soul be laid. He strove to
crush the image out by walking faster
and faster still, and by pressing his hands
on his eyes until the impress of his fingers
was left on the lids and cheeks.
A thinly muffled figure came slowly
along, here meeting him, and as he
paused to give it way, for 1t was a wo-
mans, a lost soul, such as he had lust
created out of the dark and bitter igno-
rance of his child's living, spoke to him
with the honeyed sweetness Of a tongue
coined to kill other souls, in a body robed
in tawdry dauntingness and perishing
with hunger
He cannot help looking her closely in
the face, il IS such 4 fearful rising up Of
his minds visioning. Terrible. Vice
seemed and Scared deep there and no
sign Of reclamation, Horrible! He puts
a quarter into her hand, and with a shud-
der convuIsing his iron frame, bids her
q pass on for Gods sake and mend" If
such should be, what right could rectiGy
the wrong done her? Who her avenger :?
Conscience ?-the worm gnawing at the
heart and never ceasing-tLe cancer Of
certain doom eating into the very core of
eEistence-the skeleton ever present il
the house! Wylde leaned against the
Iamp-post, and sobbed as he had never
for many, many roughly handled years.
The old bridge at He'll Hollow, and the
cavern, and Jefferson too, came up, and
the words at parting-from a youth too,
a mere STRIPPING playing censor to his
steady purpose. 9 Are We fit ministers
Of our own revenge - This reyolved II
self into thousand shapes, and examples,
and precedents to justify, but Beca and
her deserted youth and womanhood, blot
ted out all special pleading, and looking
on the house Of his enemy, John Wylde
grew caLner, though not less resolved; !;
and yet came the question, g Are we fit
ministers Of our own revenge 2" While
his wiIful nature urged yes, the convic-
ton Of a higher power working on, ever
in its mysterious, dealing out its own re-
wards and punishments, as constantly
whispered no to his troubled soul.
Mrs, Widdgery has condescend to IN
bend mistrustsul of her future position
in Mr.. Grips household, and unwilling
to lose a situation, not pecuniarily hap
py one, perhaps, but one which demanded
little from her physically. The chamber
has been prepared for the "young lady"
as well as could be done at such short
notice; busters and brooms have been in
perpetual motion, a glowing fire is throw
ing out It's genial warmth and light upon
the room, making even the shadows in the
corners, and from furniture loom like
grand attendant sprites of lively and trop-
ical afinities. In large arm chairs drawn
up by the hearth, sit Beca and Mrs. Crow
dies; Trueworthy Grip by Beca's side