Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1869-08-05
Selert Stnru.
THE MOUNTAIN ROAD

can't write the story with my owr
hands but shall dictate it t. a tried an(
trusty friend; for must have the public
know all that can tell respecting tha
strange and mysterious death. My nam,
is Henry Wilde, and was present wher
il happened. 1t was week ago, and il
body nave been utterly helpless since
that dag. / do not think that my intel
lect was much disordered by the shock
and vet seem to have lost, in some de
gree, control over my mind--the powel
of condensation. Therefore / must tel
this story in my own way. If an
proIix-ifI linger too much over detail
not connected with the act itself-i
must be pardoned me.
lam not a young man. have known
Steven Cranston for more than forty
years-eyer since he and went to schoo
together in our pinafores. l am forty
eight now. Last week, should have
said that he was two years younger; but
he stands, to-day, where they do moi
reckon ages by earthly measurement
Many who read these words know what
he was as man-stern, dark-browed
silent, and mysterious. He was al this
even as boy.
<1t tnC oi1bl kCt GCDOOl &C dStCA0Ca w
gether he seemed to like no one. He
might have been favorite ifhe would
for he had the most physical courage
ever knew any boy to possess. He lit.
orally feared nothing He had no equal
in the various athletic games with which
we wiled away our mornings; and these
two traits, of danci ng and agility, are
potent to win the suffrages of boys
Any one else possessing them to such
extent would have become a loved and
recognized leader; but Steven Cranston
wss too silent, too forbidding and un-
social. No one would have dared in any
wise to interfere with him, but he had
none of those dear boy y-friendships, those
brotherhoods of the soul whose memory,
in after years, has power to thrill so
many old mems hearts and make them
happy boys again.
I said he seemed to like no one. ]
should have made neexception. Nearly
opposite to him, ON the "girls' side" OF
the long red school house, sat Lucia
Reynolds, the daughter one of our veal
thiest men. She did not owe her popu-
larity to this circumstance, however,
Looking back through the mist OF
twenty-eight years, L can see Lucia
Reynolds as she was at fifteen, and /
hAOn bhdb hCNG1 odn ldllCi 10OCs y
met her the other day-a woman of forty
three she is now, and older than her
years, with look of patient waiting in
her eyes, a settled sorrow round her lips;
q woman to whom you would not pay
the saddest mpliment-" She must
have been beautiful once land turn
ed my eyes away, and back through the
fair country of the past, till l could see
her, as | saw her twenty-eight years ago,
bending over her desk in Ryefield school
house.
Slight, girlish figure; small but perfect
features eyes of the bluest delicate
rosetint on the dimpled cheeks; full,
smiling moHth-I saw them all in the
light and glory of youth, untouched by
time. She had clear, ringing voice, q
dancingstep, and, better than all, a heart
full of love for every living creature !;
and so every body loved her,
and every bod included misan-
thropic Steven yCranston. Indeed,
his sentiment for her seemed no mere
childish liking. 1t was more the blind
devotion of Romanist for his patron
saint. He would sit ana watch her for
hours with look of rapt adoration.-
Lucia had the heart of a woman, and she
could not help recognizing and liking
Sraciousness of a queen, the rare flowers
and fruit he used constantly TO seek for
her, and she befriended him in her turn.
She was his warm defender when any
one censured his GOODNESS and misan-
thropy, and more than one predicted
he would some day win her folAhis wife
never thought SO, however. L was
five years elder than Lucia, and think
L understood her. L felt certain that he
must be very different from Cranstou
who wnafu arouse her heart from its
long, delicious, dreaming girlhood, and
quicken it into womanhood's passionate
yet steadfast love. And yet 1 used
sometimes to fancy that he loved her
with mans passion even then. If she
could baye returned it how different
might have been the current of his fu
ture! Does it not seem as if there were
some lives to which Destiny is pitiless !?
lips from which the only cup in all the
spheres which could work their healing
is dashed remorselessly?
When Lucia Reynolds was sixteen /
left the place, and for many years went
back seldom. kept up, howevever, a
constant correspondence with my sister
Bell, and through her was made ou c0uT-
dnt,in all the gossip of Ryefield.
Two years after left, stranger came
TO live there-a Colonel Eastman-whose
family consisted of an invalid wife and
a son, young man who had nearly
finished his collegiate course. When
this later parsonage came home for his
nrst long summer vacation after the es-
tabiishment of the family, Bells letters
were quite full of him-he was so hand
some, SO gallant, SO generous and gen.
tiemanly! Soon she wrote that he had
made the acquaintance of Lucia Rey-l
nolds. She believed that it was nearly
a case of love at first sight on both sides.
She wrote me that they were always to-
gether, that they seemed just suited to
each other, and Lucia was growing
prettier than er in her happiness. 10
one OF these descriptions she added,
playfully:
suppose I'm too pad to break your
heart, brother Harry I remember
your old admiration for Lucia; but ]
seriously hope you won't look as glum
as Steve Cranston did when Robert
Eastman first came. You would have
thought he'd lost his last friend: but he
seems to have gotten bravely over it now.
aud is more cheerful and good d-humored
than ever seen him before. Indeed,
don't know but shall lay siege to his
heart myselfu'
L DON remember that thought much
OF what Bell said of Stevens glum, but
did smile at her allusion to breaking
my heart. L could afford to laugh at |
such things in those days. I loved-nol
matter am not telling my own story.
There is little white stone in Wey-
mouth church-yard, and it is the sole |
memorial of the only dream I ever
dreamed of love and woman! Yet ri
have not lived q sad or gloomy life.-J
After death comes heaven; and 1 shall
find my virgin bride there.
1t was early autumn when I received
a letter from Bell full Of tragic gloom
of fsorrow--of desolation. Young Robert
Eastman, who every body liked, had