The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1879-08-14

realized that life to a half-breed Indian
is q curse. / almost dreaded to meet
the gaze Of her bright eyes, and hear her
lisping prattle. One day my wife eloped
with a dashing young fellow who had
been working at "a logging camp near us.
The fact came like stunning blow to
me. | had longed for release and it had
come, bringing added shame to my child
and myself; but had my baby still; l
named her Celinda. loved the dear,
old-fashioned name. 1t had been the
name of my little sister l determined
then to return to the world | had thrust
aside and bring Celinda up amid sur
roundings that would obliterate all the
Indian in her nature. 1 secured posi-
ton in thriving store at Olympia, for
educated men were scarce then. But
the few ladies of the town would have
nothing to do with me, not because l
had lived with an Indian woman. Oh,
no, men whose lives had been one long
debauch were welcomed eagerly. 1t was
because l kept my child with me; not
one of them could be hired to care for
the little thing. struggled along, how
ever, the best l could and succeeded
very we'll with the help of Jim B., good
hearted hut shiftless young fellow, who
"bached" with me. But l suppose the
child missed a wOman's care, for after
several months she grew i'll, and l be-
came worn out with anxious watching;
l was worn with work, and while she lay
sick was attacked with violent fever
that brought me very low. jim nursed
me through it, and after weary weeks Of
convalescence told me tie truth about
Celinda. She was dead. l saw the little
grave that held all that had loved, but
l was glad she was gone. There we're only
frowns for her here. My friend per-
suaded me to revisit the East with him,
we engaged in business and prospered.
A few years ago Jim returned to the
Pacific Coast, but had no desire to re-
visit the scenes of my suffering. In all
these years l had not thought of mar
riage or home.
l had forfeited all that makes life
happy and buried my chances for earth
ly peace IN that lonely little grave by
the blue waters Of Puget Sound. Only
few months ago l received letter
from Jim, saying that he was sure of
death in short while, as his physician
had given him up; he must write and
tell me that my child was not dead. He
had seen how ] was wasting my life
away iii vain regrets, so, during my i'll.
ness he had taken the child and placed
her with poor but kindly family, who
had taken it into their home as one of
their own. He had regularly paid them
a small sum for her maintenance, but
had taken no pains to have her educated,
that the mother nature in her
would eventually lead her to ruin; but
since his return he had seen and con-
versed with her and was impressed with
her superiority to her surroundings, SO
he begged me to come at once and undo,
if l could, the harm he had wrought.
He died with prayer for forgiveness
on his lips. You may be sure l needed
no urging to come, but you, who have
known my outward life for ten years,
little imagined the hope that brought
me here"
"And Celinda 7" | enquired as he
paused.
"She has consented to 20 with me,
and tonight we both leave this place to
build up a new home in some land
where her mothers race will be no stain
on the worth of my beautiful girl"
The night had grown darker and cool
err. AS he ceased speaking, | took his
hand in unspoken sympathy for his sor
row and hope for his future.
"Thank you, CHS" he said heartily, 81
CANNOT help feeling that much is forgiv-
en- me, for have suffered much. But /
find my girl modest and gentle, and
though she, too, has suffered, our lives
will still hold much Of happiness"
A tinkling little bell rang the signal
for departure. We hurried on board
the little steamer, and John Williams
and his daughter left behind them the
dark land of their sorrows and started
out hopefully in the dawn of new life.
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