The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1884-08-23


the weather would necessarily occasion.
At this iuncture fearful clap of thun-
der seemed to shake the mountains, fol
lowed by the stentorian tones of some
huge giant, calling with a loud voice.
In an instant the scene vanished -the
waters, the frowning cliffs, the patient
donkeys, the bubbling spring, even the
guilty man, with his bloody secret Sc
curelv locked in his cruel bosom-all
crumbied into utter nothingness. Did
| say all-no, not all-the face still re-
NAMED. When l opened my eyes it
was bending over me, haggard and pale
in the dim morning light; but less sin
lister than when | so intently regarded
it few moments previous.
For q brief space | was startled and
bewildered, then with swift glance
around | recognized the simple furni-
ture of the room, and at once compre-
hended that | was still under the roof
which had afforded me shelter from the
storms of the previous evening.
"Our host has remembered my re-
quest to call me early" said my COM
panion; Il thought he intended to beat
down the door. Didn't it startle You?"
at certainly did" l answered; ''but
l really forgive him, as it put en- end to
most unpleasant dream that was
haunting my sleep"
My companion gave little start and
looked at me closely.
"Were you dreaming, too?' he asked,
in voice grown suddenly husky. sit
interrupted dream for me also-a
cursed one!" he cried out savagely.
"Bah! Why should l recall it? Dreams
signify nothing"
He ended with loud, defiant laugh,
while the words which arose to mvlips
in explanation ofmy own strange Vision
remained unspoken.
My roommate made hasty toilet,
and left before breakfast, saving he
wished to reach a distant point during
the day.
When I asked few indirect ques-
tions of my host concerning the past
history of his recent guest, found he
could give no especial information on
the subject; but suggested that as the
person in question resided near the
town which formed the present termi-
nus of my journey, [ might doubtless
gain any information | desired to o.
tain from those who were in neighborly
relations with him. So far as he knew,
he was most excellent gentleman.
In addition to some business matters
which called me to this town, my ia
Their had requested me to make in
quiries concerning an old friend of his
who resided there when he last heard
from him some years previous, and if
still living, to make myself known, as
sured of u warm welcome.
| About noon | reached my destination,
q pretty town, somewhat scattered and
rather quaint in its architectural fea-
lures, but nevertheless pleasing to the
eye.
On asking for John Boyd-my IA
theirs old friend-I was directed to a
certain office, and presenting myself
there, was met by a pleasant young fell
low, somewhat younger than myself,
and whose features gave me a perpleX-
ing remembrance of some face | had
once known or seen, though where or
under what circumstances | could not
possibly recall. Still | was strangely
impressed with the familiarity of form
and expression.
| signiiied that | was in search of 8
Mr.. John Boyd. The young fellow as.
sured me with pleasant smile that
had not mistaken the man. ''He stood
before me- -
With a responsive smile | ventureC
the assertion "that | must surely be in
error, or else the secret of perpetua
youth had been entrusted to his keep
ing, as the John Boyd | sought haC
been an old friend of my fathers in his
younger days, a period too far remote
in the past for suppOsition to render
him identical with the one now before
me-"
At these words his smile gave place
to a more serious expression.
"He was probably my father;
friend he said, simply. ''My father
has been dead for several years.
Seeing that the subject was even We
a painful one, | at once turned the con
versation to other matters. and we were
soon earnestly engaged in discussing
current topics of more cheerful ma
| ture.
1t was only as was about to take my
leave that again referred to his ia
theirs death, expressing my own regret
and the assurance of my fathers sincere
sorrow when he should learn of it.
at has now been some twelve year.
since his death, and the circumstances
attending itwere peculiarly sad, young
John Boyd replied. "My father haC
been in the West, prospecting for yea
or more, and in company with FRIEND
and comrade started on his homewarc
way. They were lost in the Wild
of the trackless forest, and at last
in trying to discover a trail, by
means of which civilization might once
more be reached, they by some fatalit,
became separated. My fathers fate
remains to this daya sorrowful mystery
His companion, after many perils anC
privations, finally made his way bacl
to anxious and expectant friends, anC
after learning that no tidings of IN,
father had been received, he magnan
imonsly retraced his steps, guiding al
exploring party, who sought long, bu
in vain, for any traces of the lost one.
Before young Boyd had finished hi
narrative | regarded him with thu
keenest interest. The strange impress
sion of unaccountable resemblance
first experienced grew rapidly into ;
! OF