American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1879-01-18
The aged mother soon lay beside
Grace and her baby.

The news went like wild-fire through
the town. The whaler of Capt. Reeverly
(Grace's only brother) had been on II
ten-years' cruise. The crew were wild
with joy, swung their handkerchiefs
long before they got into port, hardly
waiting for the plank, and fairly en-
bracing every person who came within
their reach. The people whispered
among themselves. Who could tell
the captain what those ten years had
brought? Nobody After few hurried
directions, the bluff and generous heart
ed captain started eagerly toward the
dear old home. The old lady in the
next house had stolen over, unlocked
the door and gone back again. How
light his step was as he went over the
threshold. How natural every thing
looked.
another! Gracie!"
No answer.
"Not very warm welcome to a
homeless fellow ten years away!" he
said. The old lady had crept in.
"Your mothers gone, Captain. l
hoped you'd heerd ont afore you got
here. Wonderful good woman! Such
clean house, and SO good to me! She
was allus askin' me to a cup o. tea.
Never had nothin' go to my heart so
since my John diedI"
"And where's Grace?'
q" She and her baby's lynn aside her!"
and then, between her sobs, the. kind
old woman told her pitiful story.
George Reeverly's eyes grew very
black and his lips very white. He went
straightway to the new graves, and,
with curses in his heart, he wept like a
child. And that man had been the
cause! There was much talk in the vii
lage, but the captain kept his own
thoughts.
The Betsey was ready much sooner
than usual for the next trip. The cap
tain never seemed so anxious to be away
from the town. Some lumber was laid
in, with extra quantities of corn, pota-
toes and unground flour, but why, the
men could not divine. The night for
starting came. There was a knock at
the door of the young physician. who
was just preparing to leave the village.
"You are to go on a Journey" said the
captain take your clothes and books,
if you want EN-"
The young man struggled, but sailors
arms were too strong, and he was hur-
ried 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, s'This man robs
womanhood, and on either hand, that
it 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 hours wore away
in bitter, sitting thoughts. What was
their plan for him? How could he ever
appear before the world, branded as he
WASP Would they bury him in the
ocean, where no law could reach them
because the world would say his pen
atty was just? What would life amount
to if he ivedP 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 desolate
place, with no sign of habitation for man
or beast. Rock-bound, the ocean wash
ed up with the same sound it used to
have against the cliff, where Grace and
he had so often sat, and from whence
she went to her death. There was q
solitary clump of trees, just like the
spot where they found her body. Must
every thing remind him of herp
The lumber was taken out. Then
quick hands fashioned rule shelter.
Sufficient food was placed in the hut,
and seed for planting. Then, as the
Betsey made ready for starting, the
captain said, in a cold, hard way, 'sThis
is to be your home! Remember!''
." Great God! MOI" gasped the young
man, "kill me! Do any thing iather
than this death by inches. I,shan go
Wild"
"Another went wild for you'll" and
the Betsey moved out from her barren
moorings, and there was only the far
off-sky, the limitless ocean and the DESC
late waste whereon 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
ar ,und his prison. There was not one
thing to love, not 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, and her be-
lief that he could do no wrong; of their
peaceful and blessed future, and of the
joy her brother would feel when he
came home, for he so reverenced noble
man. How pretty thier home should
be down where they could hear the
waters as they heard them on the cliff.