Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1873-09-04


ing this. 1 unrol the closely-written
sheets. One falls out; it is In my
grandmothers clear, firm hand. All
how long ago was that written! The
date is IL.
CA strange thing has occurred. ]
was ill-very lila year ago. Dear
Henri begged the Moorish physician $50
ne is called) to see me- He came, tall
and grave. I was frightened. He was
gentle to me, and l grew to like him.
He is always among the poor; he will
receive nothing from any one. Henri
offered him money; he refused. I gave
him my hand, he touched it with his
lips. No one knows whence he comes,
or who he is. The poor bless his name.
He never smiles. was sure he had
some great sorrow.
"One day man came to me and
handed me letter:
eel am i'll. VIII you Gomez
ct went with Henri. The room was
hung with black. The physician was
by window, looking out upon the
court; it was full of people-poor, and
many weeping He stretched out his
hand and smiled. Il have sent for you,
madam, to say farewell" and to ask
for your husband to procure passports
for my servant-he is to take me home.
"'Not now, l cried, you are ILL.,
"'No, not now, he said; tomorrow.
81 had flowers for him-roses, deli
cate fuchsias, and pure white lilies. He
took them eagerly, inhaled their per-
fume, fondled them, and told me the
legends of their birth.
"'This is my flower, he said, lifting
lily from the rest. 1T has returned to
us. He held it close against his heart,
saying softly, Is it an omen of good 2
He sat musing long time, gazing up
at the blue sky.
Au rcuoir,' 1 said as 1 bent over
him. He looked up brightly:
NO; ddieu
cat the door / turned again: he
waved his hand, then raised the lily to
his lips and smiled. In the morning
his servant came and gave me packet;
it contained the manuscript / inclose.
On the outside was written:
This is the story of my life. No
one Will know it but you. Adieu.'
"The man was weeping. His master
had died during the night"
l unrolled the yellow sheets. There
was no heading to the story they coll
tanned. looked at the end; there was
no name. 1t commenced abruptly:
I" come of doomed race A curse
hung over me at my birth. In conse-
quence of horrible crime committed
by one of my ancestors, the good genius
of our race deserted US, and a demon,
fierce and cruel, Swallowed us with his
black wings.
"The first born-child of every gener-
alton was doomed, if boy, to an early
and violent death; if a girl, to life of
misery. Generation after generation
the curse had fallen. By water, by fire,
by the sword, the frst-born son had
persisted and mother wept bitter
tears when a girl was placed in her
arms. There was legend that the
curse would cease when one was found
bold enough to foil the demon; then,
and then only, would the guardian of
our race return.
"There is Moorish blood in our
veins. In the third generation our re-
mote ancestry shows itself. Men call
me the Moorish physician True to
my instincts, have devoted myself to
the study of Eastern lore. The volume
of the heavens has long been open to my
gaze. Earth's deepest mysteries have
yielded to my touch. The voices of the
deep breathe mighty secrets to my ear.
and In the war of the elements, the
flash of the lightning, the roar and
thunder of the waves, when man
shrinks back appalled,, my spirit finds
its wings.
"I was the second son. My brother
was assassinated by an unseen hand.
''I returned to my home and plunged
deeper and deeper into the abstruse
studies I delighted in. Why could they
not suffice Alas loved. All, fatal
power When we willed it, our love
must be returned. As / knelt before
the altar, looked upon the fair crea-
ture who had yielded her pure heart to
me, as the priest may look on the VIC
tim at whose throat he holds the knife.
/ was pressing the cup of anguish to
those ruby lips those sweet eyes would
soon overflow with bitter tears. And
yet, mailman that I was, with eager
haste l clasped the fair blossom
closer to my heart, knowing that my
fatal grasp must blight its bloom for
ever.
"For one short year, earth's fairest
hues spread out before me and then,
in darkness and in tempest, our child
was born. There were vague mutter-
ings In the air as took my infant
daughter in my arms. Do you wonder
that could not answer back her moth
er's happy smile? My rose and its
sweet bud grew day by day in lowell
ness. 1 suffered tortures. Oh, that
she might be taken before her gentle
heart should bleed for the sufferings of
her child
Years passed. She began to fade
my beautiful flower. / watched her
anxiously. The wind and the wave saw
my sorrow they reveal no secrets. Her
sweet life etbed so slowly-would it
be too late ? With sigh of thank
fulness / closed her beautiful eyes.
Ct wandered from land to land, TAX
ing my child with me. 1 watched her
every step. In agony 1 waited the time
when the doom of our dark race should
fall ON her innocent heart. In Madrid a