The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1871-08-11
enreioned I'm a fIny fieece, as he stands

cOQuet VIII nlnl III liOuiildln language.
Numerous mountain streams come out
of the fastnesses of the gorges and flow
Iazily toward the center of the valley of
the great artery-the Willamette-that
leads them to the vast Columbia, and
thence outward to the sea.
Flocks and herds roam and Craze and
gambOl at their will, or stand in quiet
shades, or sleep in matted fern and
grasses, while busy men and women toll
or travel through the peaceful wales.
Towns and villages, dimly visible in
the hazy light, send up long columns of
smoke that sleep lazily over the scene,
while in the distance merry children
are fiocking home from school.
These are the influences under which
write to-day of the hard life-battle
which at last hast has brought me
peace, but through whose stormy seas 1
have not yet halfway led the interested
reader.
1t was on just such day as this that
my poor father died. He had been
slightly indisposed for a week or two,
but, as he was often ailing, thus, had
felt no serious concern about his indis-
position.
1t was Sabbath morning, and having
hurried my family off to church, | sat
down to read and study, for l had by
this time acquired means wherewith to
crafty many of my keenest mental ne
cessities, and, in spite of croaking neigh
bors and tattling women, my husband
did not starve, and my children were
well clothed and fed.
Ny father was sitting in his great
armchair, with his feet upon the opeE
window-sill, looking out on the lovely
hillside where my mother and my
Nettie slept.
Judith, come here, daughter" said
he, tenderly, beseechingly, but with the
tone of firm authority in which he had
always addressed his children.
1 was instantly by his side and Won
dering what he could want. Dropping
down upon my knees beside him, with
tender solicitude l desired TO know his
will.
Judith, do you remember all about
your childhood?'
"Oh, father, don't ~ was my sad
response as I buried my face in my
hands, while before my mind, as pan
Drama, was displayed the home of my
childhood, with its never-failing mem
ories; my unappreciated child-life and
its morbid fancies; my gentle mother
and her life of sacrifice my three years
4 life at DIR. Armstrong;, and my first
budding womanhood and its severe dis
appointment. Gently my fathers hand
was laid upon my bowed head.
Judith" and the voice was low and
sweet and solemn, 'Ive wanted for
years to unburden my mind to you, but
have never had the moral courage to do
so until now. See there ~ suddenly
starting as if in apprehension Of seeing
some loOked-for apparition. ''Do you
see. Judith ?''
There, standing at the window, with
in few feet of us, saw a man with
long, white beard and beautiful eyes,
erect, intently wStching me. / gaZed
awe-struck, spell-bound but while
gazed ne disappeared, and in my soul
the solemn promise, 'Tll explain" at
tuned itself to melody.
fe.,ss'.Oll, ,fatIter," said I, with wall,
Nwhas does all this mean? Once
years agogI saw the same apparition
and since then I've watched for it il
vain" r
tsYou remember William Snyder
\ Judith? I want to talk about him now
before my strength fails and it becomes
forever too late. He was honorably re-
leased from States Prison long before
YOU married John Smith,"
'rThen he wasn't criminal, father
Oh, tell me he was not " l exclaimed
eagerly.
"No, Judith, but he was the victim o
a foul conspiracy"
''Oh, father, you were not in league
against him ~ said 1, anxiOusly.
'rNo, Judith, not that; but-may Goo
forgive NEIL knew long before you
married John Smith that he was limo
cent of forgery and honOrably free"
"And yet you never told me, father
Oh this was too cruelr'
'Don't chide your father Judith.
thought I acted for your good. But il
all these years that you have toiled an;
struggled and suffered have felt tha
some day you must know the truth
I've seen that apparition many time
and know that my time is short.
believe it's Snyder's ghost that haunt'
me, though I don't believe i'm ghosts
1 arose from my kneeling posture anC
left the house, so full of overpowerinl
emotions that I was almost suflocated
Walking rapidly across the lawn tt
the graves of my dead | nestled myself
among the bower roses where to-day
after the lapse Of years, sit writing, ano
throwing myself upon the grass, poured
out my soul in thanksgiving. Again ;
sort Of mysterious magnetism Overcam,
me, and looking up l saw again for al
instant the dear features, beautiful eve.
and long, white beard that had ap
peared and disappeared so mysteriouslS
before my father and myself One,