Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1877-07-14
NO. 165
Calls aud Skftehss.
TIE LIGHTING OF MATCH,
Continued from yesterday.l

lianty, and there, in that lightning flash
of blue and phosphorescent light, / saw
not foot AWAY dead mans face-a
corpse's face with CLASSY half opened eyes
staring up into mine
remember turning and wildly rushing
mewhere-somewhere where there was
an icy draught of air-then came an aw-
full feeling of nausea, then heavy thud.
And ] remember nothing more until /
opened my eyes and saw the gray light
OF morning dmly Illuminating room.
Where was ? | had no idea and little
desire to find out. A few speculations
passed lazily through my mind, but was
content TO leave them unsolved Sudden
ly with no preliminary warning, with no
second of transition | passed from this
state to one of perfect horror. Have
been dreaming, or did really see it-that
faceP No! that was no dream. 1t was
reality or madness. sprang to my feet,
and knew then, for the first time, that ]
was stretched out on the floor. Where
was | ? All now | remembered. The in
cidents of the night came crowding on my
memory in lightning succession. | looked
quickly about the room. Everything was
lust as last remembered it. There was
was the chair with my watch on it, and
hung the picture, still putting to the world
its eternal question, .'Shall I?' The Sc
quence was clear thus far. Moved by an
indescribable glow of hope, opened the
door and rushed to the room where ] be-
lieved had gone for the matches. For
an instant l hesitated, with my hand on
IL. 1n.n Oh. / faIk hat stI Ia ,-,s, kaI
come in my life. j had no horror now of
seeing that face again, but what if--no
that was impossible. it was too real, |
pressed the latch, the door swung open,
and | saw-nothing-nothing but little
room, with narrow passage between
the wall and the bed, and a table with
matchbox. Yes had been mad know
it now. Slowly, surely, / settled down
TO the consciousness that it was SO.
went back into my room and carefully
washed and dressed; then sat down by
the window and tried to think-I might
as well have tried to fly The sun was
rising. The air was so clear that | saw.
blue in the distance, the range OF noun
tains where my winters exile had been
passed. A comfortable sense Of the quiet
and loneliness of the place came over me.
81 will 60 back there and Sleep" said
to myself. l looked at my watch. /
should have plenty of time to catch the
train back. Hastily packing up my few
things in my little handbag. went down
stairs. Before leaving the room looked
about 1t with kind of blase interest.
Good by, old fellow" said to the pic
ture, that looked dauby enough in the
morning light. l was rather annoyed at
myself Tor not feeling more moved.
In the guests'-room l found the chairs
piled up, and the water, with the wash-out
and disheveled air of his class in the
morning, languidly flooding the tieor pre-
paratory to scrubbing it. He seemed
much surprised to see me at such an early
hour, but brought me my coffee without
making any comments. / drank it, paid
my bill, and started for the station. Still, |
could fix my thoughts on nothing-abso-
lutely nothing. For all that felt singu-
larly buoyant and reckless. A German
song, totally irrelevant, except that it
breathed spirit in some odd way in SYM
pathy with my mood, kept ringing in my
ears:
"De bange Nachtist nun herum
Wir reiten still, wir reiten stumm
Und reen ins Verderben.
Vie weht so scharf der Morgenwind
Frau Wirthin, noch elm Gas geschwind
Vor'm Sterben, worm Sterben."
l was more than halfway to the station
when l met a peasant, dressed in his
best, coming along from the opposite di-
rection. "God greet thee, Mr.. Travel
er! ~ he said, as he passed. l returned
the greeting and went on. had hardly
advanced a dozen steps when he turned
and called after me: "You come from
the Star don't youP" l admitted the
fact. ''Has the funeral taken place yetP"
| 1.-The funeral taken place yetPn 1.-The
| funeral;" ] repeated mechanically, "Oh,
no; don't think it has," l answered. at
random, and started on again. 1.-The fun
eral ! the funeral ~. l found myself re-
peating, as l walked. All at once very
lightning bolt of thought struck in upon
my mind. "Wait a minute !"
"You asked about funeral. Is any
one dead at the Star p" Didn't you
know that P" he said, with the sublime
pity peasant feels for any one ignorant
of fact he happens to know. "Why,
Johann Haberecht died three days ago.
and will be buried to-day ~ II think
will go back with you," l said, quietly
enough, though my whole mind was in a
turmoil OF hope and doubt, very difficult
to conceive or describe. VERY agreea-
BILE to me-" replied the peasant, taking
advantage of the delay to light his pipe.
We did not talk much on our way back.
Like most German country-folk. my COM
panion could be doggedy reserved on oc-
casion. lie was evidently piqued because
l did not question him further about the
funeral The truth is, l was totally alb
sorbed in working out clew in my mind
and had almost forgotten his presence.
1t seemed to me an eternity before we
| reached the "Star." The landlord stood
at his door looking up and down the road
for customers. He welcomed my COM
panion with sorrowful cordialty-as a
guest whom he is glad TO see, though sor-
ry for the oecasion-and me with surprise
not altogether free from suspicion. 81
think have lett something in my room,"
| said. IL want to 90 up stairs and see."
He started to accompany me, but pushed
past him, and was up the first flight be-
fore he had time to think. l suppose
every person-even the weakest--has
known some moment In his life when he
CONCLUDED ON FOURTH PAGE.