Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1879-01-02

4
knock at the door of the young ply
slclan,, who was just preparing to leave
the village. You are to 90 on a jour
ney;" said the captain. Take your
clothes and books, If you want 'em."
The young man struggled, but sailors
arms were too strong, and he was hur-
RED on to the ship. From that time on,
no one spoke to him save once, when a
sailor was commanded to print in India
ink, across his forehead, so that the
world might read, "This man robs
womanhood," and, on either hand,
that 1t might be forever in his sight, the
word " Grace"
That was an indescribable Journey.
Going away from kindred he knew not
whittier, but he had sent another on a
! longer journey. The days wore away
IN bitter sitting thoughts. What was
their plan for him? How could he
ever appear before the world, branded
as he was? Would they bury him in
the ocean. where no law could reach
them because the world would say his
penalty was just? What would life
amount to if he lived? Where would
it be spent? He slept and ate little
Lines were growing along his brow and
about his eyes.
After weeks of anguish an island
came in sight. Thither the ship turned
her course and stopped. 1t was a desc
late place, with no sign of habitation
for man or beast Rock-bound, the
ocean washed up with the same sound
1t used to have against the cliff, where
Grace and he had 50 often sat, and from
whence she went to her death. There
was solitary clump of trees, just like
the spot where they found her body.
! Must everything remind him of her?
! The lumber was taken out. Then
quick hands fashioned a rude shelter.
Sufficient food vas placed in the hut,
and seed for planting. Then, as the
Betseu made ready for starting, the
captain said in q cold, hard way, 'This
is to be your home! Remember"
"Great God! Mop gasped the young
man; kill me! Do anything rather
than this death by inches. l shall go
Wild"
Another went wild for you'll" and
the Betsey moved out of her barren,
moOrings, and there was only the far
off sky, the limitless ocean and the
desolate waste wherein he stood.
Should he kill himself? A man who
robs another of life usually has not the
courage to rob himself? We are crea-
lures of necessity. We accept what
we must With faltering steps he
walked around his prison. There was
not one thing to love, not a flower or
bird, only the monotone of the sea that
had no kinship with joy.
Tired, broken, an old man in a day,
he flung himself down in his hut to
sleep. Nature is kind even to her enc
mics, and he slept. He dreamed that
he and Grace sat again on the headland,
and she talked, in her purity and trust,
of her confidence in him. her belief that
he could do no wrong; of their peace
full and blessed future, and of the Joy
her brother would feel when he came
home, for he so reverenced noble
man. How pretty their home should
be down where they could hear the
waters as they heard them on the cliff.
She was prettier even than he thought;
her hand so smooth and white as he
held it, and her cheeks so delicately
tinged with red. She trusted in him
too fully; would that she doubted him
a little, only that he might show her
how true he was! Then the scene
changed, and he was away on a far-off
Journey, longing to get to her, but an
ocean rolled between. Every vessel he
essayed to enter sank, and some were
far away or would not come, though
he hailed them ever so loudly. He
cried out in an agony of despair, when
a voice, just like that of Grace, said
sweetly, 81 am come to you'll" and look
ing up, an angel stood beside him, and
it was Grace Her hand touched his
forehead. He reached out to clasp her
in his arms and he awoke. He was
alone; alone on barren island in the
middle of the ocean, but he never for
got the touch of her hand.
The hours, and the days. and the
months, and the years crept by with
snail's pace. He planted the corn that
burst through the ground and took on
blade and tasseled ear, with no eye to
see save Gods. He read and re-read
his few books, and thought; but oh, the
desolatenes5 of this life! Death would
have been mercy, but death did not
come. Every morning and evening
were the same. Sabbath and weekdays
were alike to him. No word was heard.
He forgot the sound of his own voice.
Year after year he strained his eyes for
Il sail, but there was never one in sight
On, to look upon one living thing: to
see once more one human facet
Five years went by, and sail was in
sight. With an intensity almost suicidal,
he watched the ship draw nigh. Fears
mingled with his hopes. 1t was no
doubt that Betsy, but what would that
bring to him? She could not bring
worse than she had brought. She came
alongside, dropped anchor it seemed
only for a minute, when the captain
gave him some books and said, IN the
old hard way, Remember the only
wold spoken, and the Betsey was soon
lost in the horizon. His heart died
within him, but he had seen a face
once more, thank God for that, if only
Of bitter enemy.
His hair was grown quite white. He
was older by thirty years than when he
came. How mnch longer could this
last? He hoped when he died it would
be under the ciump ofbushes like those
where they found Grace. Eternity
alone must wash out those India brands
on his hands and forehead. His steps
grew feeb'er year by year. it was a
terrible sin. To rob womanhood was to |
rob Godl
At last another five years had gone
by. Ten years silent communion with |
God and nature had wrought a great
change. He could bear now whatever
came, but there could not be long to
bear it.
Again the old ship Betsey came in