Democrat and sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1853-1866, 1861-10-30
CHATTER VI.

CHATTER VI.
WEARY, worn aud footsore. a traveller wrap
pei himself in the folds Of his thick California
blanket, and lay down at night to slumber.
His garments were coarse and travel stained ;
an old Spanish sombrero covered his head from
beneath whose dropping brim hung masses of
thick black hair, profuse growth of which al
most concealed his well formed mouth and throat;
his complexion was dark and sunburnt; Span
is dirk and patent revolver hung from his belt ::
and altogether he looked the very pcrsonifcation
Of Californian who had passed six summers
Of hard toll in the mines.
y passer by might have thought him poor and
frieniless, but in the belt which girt his waist,
that rough, travel stained man carried his treas
ure-the precious ounces for which he had toiled
three weary years, and at home in New England
anxious hearts we're wearily awaiting his re-
turn.
One other treasure that weary man bore secre-
ted in his belt, which had suddenly become dear
er to him than gold-the last letter his wife had
written him, and ere he lay down to rest. he
drew it forth and read its decately written pa
ges anew as he had done every night since he
started on his home bound way. And then re-
folding the letter, Harry Eustace lay down to
rest,
lie was on the Isthmus. Tropical richness was
above and around him deep blue skies. star
spangled, bent over him, and the luzriance Of
glossy greeuery was about him. All day long
he had journeyed along TIE narrow beaten mule
path which wound through tangled thickets bor-
dered 6y dense chapparel or hedge of thicl, un-
dergrowth. and grand old trees with glossy dark
green foliage and trailing banners of oil grey
MOSES; all day long had he pressed on his wea-
~ way, needing rot the fervid rays of July
sun, or the dangers which beset his path. where
often some lone traveller ike himself was sprung
by desperadoes lurking in the way side thiokets,
pluuered Of their golden ounces. and LETT to die
by the assassiu's knife. far from home or friends
OF these dangers, the traveller took 10 heed,
for he nearing his home.
With every succeeding step he became more
impatient. While he lived on the land Of gold
he had been content, thinking only of his return
as something in the future. His love had not
grown cold, tut he had said .I'l get little more
ere go back but now, every step that neared
his home, brough. fresh impatience with it. 1t
seemed as if he could not bide by the time that
should bring him home, as if he could scarce
spare time for neediul sleep or refreshments and
when he lay down to rest, with his hand clasped
over his precious letter. Lis thoughts turned to
his suffering wife.
And in the stiffness Of the night there came to
him dream, and in that dream a warning.
An old withered woman. bent and haggard,
I,
before him, and with upraised shrivelled finger
AMI stern voice said:-
Shall l open to you the book of fate?'
Trembling with strange fears he whispered,
:. Tell me not of myself but Of those 1 love-of
the distant ones How is it with them 2"
And the mystic Sybil replied:
81 Haste thee. Oh. haste thee, they waiting.
But nay, nay,'' and her sterness vanished as she
spoke. . Nay, it is useless They will be there
when Il Y feet tread the olG familiar pathway
all but one, ard she the blessed beloved. Thou
wilt not find her it is too later and then, with
out further word or gesture the wild weird visi-
tor vanished.
Harry awole with start 1t was deep mid
night. Thousands of stars were twinkling like
brilliants in the far off tropic skies; they had
never seemed 50 distant, stars or skies, and then
the broad leaved palmettos stirred with rust
ling whispering sound in the soft still wind-a
wind which seemed to him but continuous
sigh. even moan and close by the green bank
where he had made his pillow, tiny rill of wa
ter dripped down over the long sword grass and
glittered in the starlight like falling tears
With deep groan Harry buried bis face IN
his blanket.
..Oh. Godl if this should be so ;" he murmur-
ed. IF should go home and not find Mary !!
If for this,'' and he smote his hand fierce and
hard upon the belt which encansed the gold
dust, =. If for this have lost her" aud ali
through that long and terrible night, he was kee-
ping a vigil with memory and regret.
| For he knew that ii was no dream which had
idly fitted across his brain in his slumher no
trick of dainty Robin Goodfellow.' who weaves
| quaint fancies into the web and woof of sleep,
and whispers strange imaginations into the drea-
mer's ear; it was no dream, but warning
CHAPTER VII,