Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1879-10-02
NO. 237.
Gales ano Skettbes.
MIR. ClRMICHAEL,s CONVERSION.
A NINETEENTH-CENTURY MYSTERY.

The gout and whaling voyages not beng
compatible, Capt. Jonathan Dunlow gave
up the latter to attend to the former. lie
anchored in the old Portsmouth harbor Tor
the last time, and would have felt much
sadder as he passed the harbor light II at
that moment twinge of his old enemy IN
the great toe of his left foot had not warneu
him that it was high time to settle down;
So Capt Dunlow anchored the Lovely sal
at the weather-beaten wharf, and watched
her after he had landed with choking
| sensation i'm his throat. The only things
which he took with him to remind hlm OF
his past career, were his telescope ana ms
speaking-trumpet indeed. unimpOrtant as
the fact may seem had he left them behind
there would have been no story for me to
tell about him. With these under his arm
he lounged down the silent streets OF Ports
mouth town, with the afternoons sun blink
ing lazily on the hot cobble-stones, and at
last knocked at the widow Curdy's front
door.
MY goodness, mum! it's the capting,
come home for good" the maid-of-all-
work cried, half hanging out of con-
venient window.
'.Open the door, you Dye think like
to brol ?" the captain shouted, irritably:
and in moment more he was ushered
from the flaring light of day into the cool
hess of a long, broad corridor-c0ol by
reason of generous doors, cooler for the
presence of the widow Curdy gliding down
The stairs, thin and long and respectable,
and exasperatingly chilly, as the captain
very justly thought as he threw himself
into "A char and snorted away to his hearts
content, meanwhile mopping his face with
10, bop Ilyn, sof ,,f lot
Capt. Dunlow was short, thick-set man,
weather-beaten and heavy-featured, but
with shrewd gray eyes, which he used to
wink knowingly. He had, too, a childlike
confidence in buttons, in which he had
never been justified. Being the widow
Curtly's only lodger, he had been the SUBJ
ect of fond speculations to that estimable
woman; still, in spite of the undoubted
advantages she possessed, the captains
heart remained untouched, and three days
after the good mans reappearance he coli
lected his luggage, paid his bill, and, with
his telescope and speaking-trumpet once
more under his arm, disappeared forever
from the horizon of the widow Curdy's
earthly vision.
Could fate. in connecting the lives of
people, at the same time draw between
them delicate thread of light, in what a
curious mesh we should be entangled.
and how many one would stare in
amazement! Could such thing be, then
would there be delicate connecting link
between Mr.. Carmichael of MilborO' and
Captain Dunlow, at that moment hazard
ing his life on top of a New Hampshire
stage-coach, and still clinging to the tele-
scope and speaking trumpet. His disap-
pearance from under Mrs. Curdy's roof
was not nearly so mysterious as it might
at first seem. as he had long since contem-
plated occupying certain little farm on
Milboro' hillside rs soon as he could get
his sister Dinah to keep house for him.
| Mr. Carmichael was at that identical
| moment in his own home in South Mil
boro' lying in his bed with vacant look
| in his bloodshot eyes, and an unkempt
aspect to his hair which was not, to say
the least, savory. There was, too, per-
lume of bad whiskey about the place.
which, if it did not explain, at least limited
at, Mr.. Carmichael's condition.
There was boot and shoe factory in
Milboro' which in prosperous times had
given him sufficient work to do, till one
day, elated by too much prosperity, he
came near taking unto himself a wife, of
which, for reasons best known to himself,
he had thought better; and from that day,
curiously enough, his good luck deserted
him, till he had no work and could get
none, and there seemed no hope in living.
1t being inindiciohs to kill himself out
right, Mr.. Carmichael concluded to stupe-
| fy himself, which he proceeded to do as
fast as he conveniently could. Mr.. Car
michael, then, heing a bachelor and
| ~, LaJ 81, Al; 1;.tx,
| little room that late summer afternoon,
Just as the captain, sitting on the vernndah
| of his farm on the hill while he smoked q
comforting pipe, watched the eastern hills
turning purple, aud the western just cap
ped with the last superb radiance of the
sinking sun.
Dye know, and the captain turned
to his sister, who was knitting near him
"d'ye know, Dinah, it'll do we'll emo. for
lan,lubbers, nodding his head at the Of
Tending mountains, ''but it just chokes
me-" pulling open his neckerchief. "If
I'd been the Lord, I'd ha' made the world
all water"
| Miss Dunlow looked up to heaven in
pious horror, and felt certain that Jona-
than had soul that needed saving very
badly.
Mr. Carmichael too could see the noun
tain from his solitary window, but they
did not trouble him much, and he would
have remained passive at least if an inquis-
tive hen had not wandered in at the open
door, which so Unexpectedly incensed Mr..
Carmichael that he nthis solitary pillow
flying after her, with little damage to
either. So the summer sun sank behind
the hills and hid them from Captain Dun
lows protesting eyes. and at the same time
kindly extinguished the man named Car
michael, who at that moment had in his
low soul neither courage to live nor co'ir-
age to die.
Miss Dunlow called it freak, but the
captain declared ''Hed be darned If ne
cared what he called it,"
The matter was, that the captain, with y
fond recollection OF the deck Of the Lovely
Sal, had taken possession of the rotunda
on the root, which was. however. in COM
mon language, nothing but small square
room with window on each side. Here
a.. al. - -