Evening capital. (Annapolis, Md.) 1884-1910, 1885-04-10
ON a GATE POST.


Ambrose Nettleson has what he thinks
is valuable manuscript. He thinks so.
doubtless, because it records part of his
life. One night recently. while was at
his house, he brought out the manuscript
and read it to me. Although did not
ask permission, yet do not feel that I
violate his confidence by giving, as
nearly as 1 can remember, the contents
Of the paper which he treasures with such
affection:
The prospect was not cheerful. was
riding q horse across country whose
Loneliness was as deep as a sigh which
bespeaks the long absence Of some one.
Night was coming on and storm was
gathering its forces. A frightened owl
fitted past me, screaming in my face.
The time of year was when nature hest
tates whether TO continue winter or be-
gin spring. My horse almost shook me
off when he stopped and shivered. The
owl screamed in my face again. Dead
leaves, for moment would whirl before
me, and then fall, scattered and torn as
though they had, by an angry hand,
been swept from their long, damp rest.
only to be Knocked. ssWhat a drearv.
dreary place it is!u I unused. 81 feel
as though something terrible is going to
happen. The air, just before the great
agitation which must come, seems ouiv-
ering in its desire to bear the sound of
murder, murder! AS live yonder is
light. Is it possible that shall receive
shelter2"
Urging my horse forward, I soon
reached small house, near the summit
Of a desoIate peak, overlooking the Ark
ansaW river. dismounted near the
door-thcre was no fence around the
house. My horse looked appealingly at
me and without asking permission from
any one within, led the animal to a
stable close ct hand, took off saddle and
bride. As was returning, the storm
burst upon the river. When approached
the door, heard wall. knocked and
heard the wall coming slowly toward me-
The door was opened by girl scarcely
more than twelve years old. Her face
was the picture OF despair. She said
nothing, but pointed to-a bed. upon.
which lay an old man, gasping for
breath. Approaching him, saw that
he had but few moments to live. The
girl knelt beside the old man. He tried
to put his hand upon her head. Failing.
he looked at me and assisted him. lie
tried to speak. but could not. The girl
soDbed frantically. The rain poured
down and the storm shook the house.
He will never get we'll" she cried.
my grandpa will die.
Yes, her grandpa would die. His life
had already passed away. The hand
lying on her head was growing cold.
She looked at him and shrieked
What night we spent in that house.
The storm howled and the rain fell until
nearly daylight. The girl, who I saw
was intelligent, with an impressive face,
said that ner name was Munettc Logge-
mon. and that since her earliest recOilec-
ton she had lived with the old man who
had spent the most Of his time, since
she had begun to talk, ia teaching her.
II have no relatives, she said IN an
swer to question.
ANY friends"
No friends
You have neighborss"
None. The nearest house is nearly
eight miles away.
knew not what to do. Surely the
situation was serious. Early At morning,
we buried the old man in the yard As
best I could, / made colin Of s trough
which I found in the stable. After the
burial, / went On and found enough corn
Tor my horse. ! left Mnnette At the
grave. on which she had, sobbing Bit
gerly. thrown herself
Where are you going, little grip
asked when 4 returned, still finding her
On the grave