The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1886-08-04
CHAPTER III,
CHAPTER III.
AFTER TEN YEARS, BEGIN LIFE IN EARN
EST.


AFTER TEN YEARS, BEGIN LIFE IN EARN
EST.
The prologue over, the drama of my life
begins. There is always a prologue of some
sort, in which the keynote of life is generally
struck for good or evil, pleasure or pain.
Mine is the episode of Little Madeline Much
of the spirit of what has been told will sur
vive in the events which | am now about to
narrate.
Madeline Graham faded at once and for
ever out of my boyish existence. 1 neither
saw nor heard from her directly; but some
months after her arrival in her distant home,
there arrived wonderful parcel, full of dried
fruits, nuts, and other foreign edibIes, adj
dressed. in the hand | knew, to Master
Hugh Trelawney," at MINISTER'S. My school
mates laughed wildly on its arrival. / tore
it open, expecting to find some message in
writing. showing me that | was not forgot
ten. There was not line. With a some
what heavy heart, l distributed the more
perishable fruits among my school-mates>
reserving very little for myself-for l had
no heart TO eat. / stored up many of the nuts
in my trunk, till they were quite moldy and
rotten. When was obliged to throw them
away, l seemed to cast away at the same mo-
ment all my hope of seeing my dear little
love again.
No other message-no other gift-ever
came; though wrote, in my round, boyish
hand, little letter OF thanks and kind
wishes. All grew silent. Little Madeline
might be lying in her grave, far over the
lonely waters, for aught knew to the con-
| trary.
remained at MINISTER'S until / was four
| teen. In all these years / never forgot Made
| line. never ceased to mention her name every
night when ] prayed by my bedside, never
relinquished the thought of some day sailing
across the ocean and looking on the dear
bright face again.
This intense and solitary passion became,
| if may so express il, the secret strength of
/ nv life. II frightened the coarse and indi-
| gent experience of school-life, filed it with
| tender and mysterious meanings and associa-
tions; it made me inquiring and tender, in
| stead of hard and mean; it determin ed my
| tastes in favor of beauty, and made me reTer-
| ence true wemanhood wherever saw il In
a word, it gave my too commonplace expert
ence just the coloring of romance it needed,
| and made the dry reality of life blossom with
simple poetry, in dim religious light from
| far away.
What wonder, then, if, at fourteen, found
myself reading Imaginative books and writ
| ing verses-of which early compositions. be
certain, Madeline was the chief and never
wearying theme.
/ had taken tolerabIe advantage of Mum
ster's tuition. and was sufficientiywell ground
| ed in the details of an ordinary English edu-
cation. / had, moreover. smattering of
Latin, which, in my after struggle for subsist-
ence, turned out very useful. / should have
| progressed still further under the care of my
lschoolmaster, but at this period my father
died, and l found myself cast upon the
world.
1t is not my purpose-it is unnecessary-to
enlarge on my own private history. and I
shall touch upon il merely in so far as IL af-
fects the strange incidents in which / after
wari became an actor. Things were at this
point when one morning received the start
ling intelligence that my father was dead.
and that was left alone in all the world.
The trst feeling which the news produced in
me was one of very confused and dubious
sorrow. OF late years. had seen very little
of my father. Since had come to Munster
had been left there, never even going home
for iisy holidays as other boys did. MINISTER'S
was nv home, and to all infents and pur-
poses Mr.. and Mrs. Munster were father
and mother to me- Still for all that the
know ledge that i had a father in some ne
mote quarter of the gleb., who paid for my
maintenance, and came 70 MINISTER'S about
once in six Or eight months to spend an hour
with me- had been source of soma satisfao-