Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1875-08-06

figure and dark, handsome lace fixing the
eyes of the old and young alike. He was
greeted with faint applause, which plain
ly did not come from the students, and by
buzz of expectation, which was more
complimentary than any amount of ap.
plause would have been.
"T don't see any likeness to Ralph"
whispered Treat to me, but he lelt his eyes
on him. The young speaker wore the
academic gown, as did the others, but 1t
was noticeable that he did not treat II as
they did as some unwonted and dignity
ing robe in which their boyishness was for
time concealed. On the contrary, he used
it as if it we're a part of his speech, now
finging it back, now wrapping 1t sternly
around him, now throwing an end over
his shoulder in an audacious manner. 1t
would have been merely melo-dramatic in
others, but in him 1t seemed to be so com.
pletely in keeping with his nature and his
words, that found myself coming really
under a kind of spell, and kept my eyes
fixed upon that robe, all alive with the
speakers magnetism. His theme was the
common one of the inevitable disclosure of
secret deeds at some time in some way.
He cited instance afler instance some IA
miliar, others discovered evidently by
burrowing In the dark galleries of crime.
AT last he paused, wrapped his cloak
about him, walked solemnly down the
stage until he stood fxedy upon his audi
ence and continued, in words that burned
themselves into my memory:
"Thirty seven years ago, on this very
9th day of June, in this very precinct, the
other side of that frowning mountain,
which casts its shadow over a smiling
plain, and has cast from all eternity, in the
darkness of night, before the dawn had
reused men from their sleep, man was
slain! Weeks aiterward, his body was
found, decaying by the road side, but the
murderer was not found. Thirty-seven
years have passed Of birth and death, and
no man has yet found the doer of that deed.
Thirty-seven years-thirty-seven years
Our fathers were then here, within these
walls; their sons are here now. Their
sons may come and go, yet there is a dim
light travelling-it may be, from some dis
tlnt star-that will fall upon that dark spot,
some day, some hour, some minute of time,
and all will be revealed" AS he said these
words, their cadence in his musical voice
sounding like the tolling OF bell, he laid
aside the folds of his robe, one after the
other, as if the secret were even now TO be
laid bare. Then he bowed a melancholy
smile, turned and left the stage. At first
there was a silence then the whole au-
dience, students and all, threw Off the spell
by storm of clapping and pounding,
which would not cease until Candido step
ped back upon the stage, this time with
light bound, and an almost dancing meas
ure, smiling and bowing gayly, as If he
had never thought of anything sombre.
For myself, was seized with an mex
pressibe restlessness. In vain 1 made
these words of Ives only idle, boyish dec
lamation. They haunted me, they drove
me TO desperation, and I determined no
longer 10 live under this shelter of my
own forming. Treat turned TO me while
the band was playing, before the next and
last speaker should come in, and said:
"That was a curious fact the young man
brought out at the end. True, too, but how
did he happen TO ferret ii QUIZ l suppose
he was struck with the fact of its having
come upon this very day. 1 remem-
Der the fact perfectly. 1t made a stir at the
time, but was an unsolved enigma. Sus-
picion rested on some one who disappear
ed at the time. l have now forgotten his
name. But it never was cleared up. 1
confess, this young fellow made me, old as
l am, feel rather creepy"
lefl the audience to seek the air. At
the moment l left the door, young Ives
passed down the walk. With an impulse,
l stepped up to his side, and made as if 1
would walk with him.
THAT was singular fIct,' said 1, abrupt
ly, "that you closed your Grafton with.
How did you get hold OF il? 1t especially
interested me because it happened in my
college days, or rather, just afler them. l
was of the class of 'thirty-lour.'
He answered: II came upon the story
in one of my walks the other side fthe
mountain. l have a liking for such stories,
and tried my best to get hold of some
clue to it, thinking it would be fine thing
for me 10 discover it. In fact if had dis
covered it, meant 10 disclose tue whole
story here on the Stage. 1t would have
made a sensation, Ell? The only clew
could get TO it was very interesting one"
he added, with sang froid. The person
last seen with the murdered man, and new
er seen aflerward, bore the same name that
l have-Ives What is more, he bore my
fathers name" My mouth grew parched,
my tongue moved helplessly. l could on
| ly look at him as if he had accused me of
| the terrible crime.
"His name was Philip Ives" he added.
81 hunted him down as well as 1 could,
but thirty-seven years cover up a good
many tribes, and 1 could find nothing con-
cerning him." He went on TO tell me of
his experience in ferreting out this mys-
terry, and my head grew clearer.
At last could speak "Where is your
homer" l asked.
"In. Texas, in San Antonio. My father
and uncle were states people. My mother
was Spanish"
"Your uncle7" l managed TO say, but
could not trust myself TO say any more.
He looked at me curiously, detecting some
unexplained emotion in my tone.
"Yes, my uncle. Nothing strange in
that suppose. My father died when
was a child, and my uncle has always been
my guardian"
"Pardon my inquistiyeness," 1 said,
"but 1 once had very dear friend, class.
mate at ST. Johns; his name was Ralph
Ives"
"That is my uncle's name, but 1 never
heard of his being here at st. John. 1 must
look into this"
"Very likely they were two distinct per-
| snns Iuns Is NOT nI ALL an uncommon