Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1874-03-12

| Gay grew warm she became very weak
and faint, and about noon was moved by
her son from her chair to her bed, and so
died as the sun went down.
John was alone in the house when she
died Since his return from Montreal he
had been made to feel that he had but one
friend besides his mother. Only one
neighbor had called upon him, and that
was Pete Searles. He had ever proved
his one friend, who lived two miles
ing the night. So she lighted candle,
hymn-book that he and his mother
had carried on an average about four
times year to a school-house used rs q
church, some six miles away, and so alone
with the dead he spent the hours in read
ing and tears and meditation.
In the morning he locked the door of
his home and walked "over to Pete's"
AS he met his friend, he said in clear
voice, but with eyes averted, She has
gone, Pete; if you will just take the key
and go over there III 60 down to the
lake and get the things, and tell Downer,
and we'll have the funeral, say on Thurs
day"
key John offered him, and said, Eyes,
John, will tell my woman, and we will
go over and fix it, and be there when you
come back" And so John went on his
way. "Downer" was the minister, and
the things" were coffin and shroud.
On Thursday was the funeral Pete
took care to have all the people of the
nei ghborhood there, although it hardly
seemed as if John desired it, The popu
lar voice, having once decided it, still held
John as murderer, and claimed that he
was cleared from the charge only by the
tricks of his lawyer. John knew of this
decision. At the funeral he was stern,
cold white and statue-like. While others
wept but few tears fell from his eyes, and
even these seemed wrung from him by an
anguish for the most part suppressed or
concealed.
He chose that his mother should be
buried, not in the "burying- ground" at
the settlement, but upon their own little
farm where she had lived. And so in
| spot below the rocky ridge, where wild
violets grew, she was laid at rest
John spent the night following the
funeral at Pete's house, then returned to
his own home, and from that time his
SOLITARY life began. He took his cattle
and his sheep over to Petes, made all
fast about his home, and resumed his
boating upon Lake Champlain. He
fully realized that he was marked
man. He was advised, it was said, even
by his own legal counsel, to leave the
country, and to leave his name behind
him; but no words influenced him. Firm
and steady in his course, strictly temper
ate and just, he won respect where he
could not gain confidence.
The years rolled by. Captain John still
was boatman, and still kept this home at
the lonely Lighthouse on the edge of the
great valley. From each voyage he re-
turned and spent a day and night alone
at the old place; and it was noticed that
"a strong high Daling was built around his
mothers grave, and marble maidstone
was placed there, and other flowers grew
with the wild violets. Even in winter,
when there was no boating and he board.
ed down by the lake, he made many visits
to the old homestead. His figure which,
though youthful, was now growing gaunt
and thin as his mothers had been, was
often seen by Pete at nightfall upon the
top of a certain rocky ridge standing out
clear and sharp against the cold blue
ST eel of the winter Sky.
John had no companions and sought
none. The young men and women of his
set had married and settled in life; he
was still the same.
But there came a change. Eleven years
had passed since the mother died, and 1t
was June again. John was spending
day at the old place once more, He sat
in the door looking out on the magnifi.
cent landscape, the broad lake and the
dim line of mountains away across the
valley The lovely day seemed to cheer
this stern, lonely man.
Three persons came up the road: they
advanced straight to where John was sit
ting. One of them stepped forward, looked
John steadily in the face, held out his
hand to him, and said, John, do you
know me?"
The voice seemed to strike him with a
sharp, stunning shock. He quivered, held
his breath, stared into the ey es of the ques
tioner, and then, suddenly becoming UNI
naturally cool and collected, said, "Is it
you, William
The two who stood back had once been
ohn's warmest friends. They now came
| forward, and with such words as they
could command told the story of Will
! Jams sudden return, and sought for them
selves torgivness for the cruel and false
suspicion which had SO long estranged
| III EN- from their friend.
John seemed to hear this as one in a
dream He talked with William and the
men in manner that seemed strangely
cold and indifferent, about where William
had been voyaging so long in distant seas,
and Of his strange absence A quarter OF
an hour passed away. The men proposed
that John should 20 with them to their
homes, and said there would be gather
ing of friends there. They pressed the
invitation with warmth and such true feel