The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1866-11-22
THE STARS.
NUMBER THIRTY-NINE,

The faint light Of an early summer
dawn, more than a score of years ago,
was just beginning to change the shad-
>owy blackncss of house and tree into
gray outlines of even more weird and
gbostly shape, as the door Of house in
Prith street, New York, was softly
opened from within, and a woman
glioed forth like spirit, and swiftly
passing out, was almost: in an instant
lost to sight. Ifany lonely watcher at
any window had seen her form, his rec
ollection of it would have faded away
as dream fades before the light of a
cloudless sunrise.
Slowly the gray sky melted into a
paler gray; slowly the gray sky soften
ed into pearly tidts that in the far off
horizon were tinged' with gold slowly
the golden halo stole all over the 6rma-
ment, vanished into unfathomable
depths of blue; and the great round
sun, rising, flashed his beams from roof
and steeple, then on inland stream and
eray flowers, and it was day. The great
city awokc. The football in the street
ceased to echo, the distant. tap Of the
patrol was heard no more. The rattle
of cart and railcar began to shake the
air again, and the thousand sounds of
city life rose up. Windows and doors
began to team with life, and everywhere
there Was the going forth of humanity
to its pleasures or its toll:
Of all the busy thoroughfares in New
York, Prith street was one of the most
busy, aud the houses in it were gener::
ally pretty full Of people. To this rule
No. 80 Was an exception. It was a
small two-story building of brick, and
had about it an old-fashioned, quiet look
which distinguished it in a singular
manner from its nelghbors The blinds
| the curtains, and the whole aspect of
the place, while not seeming in the
least neglected, we're ;ndescribably for
lorn. While the dwellings, each side
aud facing it were cheerful with faces
and home sounds, No. 80 was always
| silent. On an evening a white hand
| might have been seen to move a win
dow, or fitting figure pass across.
throwing its shadow upon blind ; but
these not often. And all the people
round about knew, though scarcely any
had seen them, that an old French la
dy and her daughter lived there alone
None knew their history, but only that
they had lived there this dozen years
or more alone. =. 80; .:.
Why should closed door Look diff.
tercnt at different times I am sure
can't tell, but somehow l, who lived
opposite to No. 80, found myself look.
ing at Madame Herbet's closed doc,
with a feeling which I could not define
but which affected me strangely. II
was often not opened for days togcthe,
why should it have been SO now? ]
knew the habits of the little family
enough to be aware that neither Of the
two women would be likely to appear
but that they wcro invisible to-day
seemed something new and strange: ]
remarked this'to my wife, who only
laughed at me and said that my lawye,
habits made me consider things: thai
were neither singular nor suspicious
just as If they made up points in cast
i Of course | could only laugh also. ant
soon 1 was snug in my Office, .dowl
town, in company with my law book
and papers. Nor WIS it until I wa
home again after hard days work tha
the subject of Madame Herbet's doc
recurrcd to me- "A1I quiet opposite
Of course said 1, as I sat down to din
ner." "Perfectly," said my wife, "no
} soul. has been seen that I know Of. >
=" "Oh, yes" said one Of the children
"there has, been no one there, hut, don
i you remember, mamma, saying that 20,
J, heard a dog howl several times ?''- :
i "And 80 1,,sdid,n'', ,saidashe, ''but:I la,
forgotten it-at *all. events the. soup i
d growing % 'cold,, Charles, So the sub
ject was dismissed again.
It was my habit in those days 'to' reaa'
!: late at ninht. and I often AIT I'M alon