The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1863-08-13

1--WE have never seen him since that day y
The painter paused, and his friends remain
ed some moments silent, musing on the trag-
ical history they had heard.
'tAnd do Won know nothing whatever OF
your brothers fate?' inquired Raphael, at
! last.
'cNext to nothing My uncle caused in
quiries to be made in every direction, but with
out success. Once only neighbor at Mari
enburg, who had been travelling on the Bohe-
milan frontier, told us that he had met at a
village inn wandering clarionet-player, who
bore so strong a resemblance to my brother
that he accosted him by his name. The mu-
sician seemed confused, and, muttering some
uninteligibIe reply, left the house in haste.
What renders it probable that this was Bern
ard is, that he had great natural talent tor
music, and, at the time he left home, had al
ready attained considerable proficiency on the
clarionet."
'tHow old was your brother when he so
strangely disappeared ?" asked one of the par
| ty.
Fifteen; but he looked at least two years
older, for he was stout and manly in person
beyond his age"
At this moment the rafting of wheels, and
the sound of a postillion's horn wasE heard.-
The Halle mail drove upto the door, the guard
bawIed out for his passenger.
The young painter took hasty leave of his
friends, and sprang into the vehicle, which
the next instant disappeared in the darkness
of the night.
There was an overplus of travellers by the
mail that night, and the carriage in which
Selling had got was not the mail itself, but a
calache, holding four persons, which was used
as a sort of supplement, and followed close tc
the other carriage.
Two Of the places were occupied by Jew
householder and sergeant OF hussars, who
were engaged in an animated, and to them
most interesting conversation, on the subject
of horse-fesh, to which the painter paid little
attention but leaning back in his corner, re
NAMED absorbed in the painful reflections
which the incidents he had been narrating ha(
called up in his mind. In spite of his brothers
eccentricities, he was truly attached to him
and although eight years had elapsed since hi
disappearance, he had not yet given up hope
of finding him, if still alive.
The inquiries that he and his uncle had I'M
ceasingly made after their lost relative hac
put them, about three years previous to this
time, upon the track of a clarionet-player who
had been seen at Venice and Trieste, and wen
! ny Vic IldIllO VI NOlIOJO' LILO nov
been name adopted by Bernard as being
nearly the Italian equivalent of Geyer, o.
hawk the name of his native town and Soil
ing was not without faint hope that, in the
course of his journey to Rome, he might OBJ
tain some tidings of his brother
He was reused from his reverie by the pos
tiIlion shouting out to the guard of the mail
which was Just before them on the road, tx
know when they were to take up the passen-
ger who was to occupy the remaining seat IL
the calache.
''Where will the Thirteenth meet us? ' ask
ed the man.
cat the inn at Schneider" replied the
guard.
The Thjrteeuth! The word made the paint.
ers blood run cold. The householder and the
sergeant, who had begun to doze in their re-
spective corners, were also disturbed by the
i'll omened sound.
''The Thirteenth! the Thirteenth !" NUT
tered the Jew in his beard, still half asleep
''God forbid Let's have no Thirteenth! !"
A company of travelling comedians, who
occupied the mail, took up the mysterious
word.
'The Thirteenth is coming!" said one.
Somebody will die !" cried another
Cor we shall upset and break our necks =
exclaimed third.
''No Thirteenth no Thirteenth !" cried they
all in chorus, ''Drive on drive on! he shan
get int"
This was addressed to the postiIlion, who
just then pulled up at the door of village inn
and, giving blast with his horn, shouted
loudly for his remaining passenger to make
his appearance.
The door of the public house opened and q
tall figure, with small knapsack on his Shout
der and a knotty stick in his hand, stepped
out and approached the mail.
But when he heard the cries of the comedi-
ans, who were still protesting against the ad-
mission of Thirteenth traveller, he started
suddenly back, swinging his cudgel in the
air.
''To the devil with you all, vagabonds that
We are" vociferated he. ''Drive on, postillion,
with your cage Of monkeys. | shall walk. ,
cat the sound of the strangers voice, Soil
ing sprang up in the carriage and siezed the
handle of the door. But as he did SO, a strong
arm grasped him by the collar, and pulled
him back into his seat. AT the same moment
the carriage drove on.
s'The man is drunk said the sergeant, who
had misinterpreted his fellow passengers in
tentions ''lt is not worth while dirtying
blow, in a scutfle with such fellow"
"Stop, postilion, stopr shouted Selling.
But the postillion either did not or would
not hear him, and some time elapsed before
the painter could persuade his well meaning
companion of his peaceable intentions.
At length he did so, and the carriage, which
had meanwhile been going at full speed, was
stopped.
''You will leave my luggage at the first
post-house, said Selling, jumping out and be-
ginning to retrace his steps to the village,
which they had now left some distance behind
them.
The night was pitch dark-so dark that the
painter was compelled to feel his way, and
guide himself by the line of trees that border
ed the road. He reached the village without
meeting living creature, and strobe down
the narrow street amid the baying of the
dogs, disturbed by his football at that silent
hour of the night.
The inn-door was shut but there was a
light glimmering in one of the easements
He knocked several times without anybody
answering. At length woman's head was
put out of an upper window.
go your ways" cried a shrill voice, land
don't come disturbing honest folks at this
time O night. Do you think we have naught
to do but to open the door for such raft as you ?
Be off with you, you vagabond, and blow your
clarionet elsewhere"
''You are mistaken, madam" said Selling (;
II am no vagabond. but passenger by the
Halle mail, and"-
'What brings you here, then ?" interrupt
ed the virago 'the Halle is far enough off by
this"
''My good madam, replied the painter, in
his softest tone, '.for Gods sake tell me who
and where is the person who was waiting for
the mail at your hotel"
'-Ha ha! !" laughed the hostess, considera-
! bly, modified by the madam and the hotel. 'The