San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1886-09-03
This story was commenced August 81
GARRISON Gift.
by HUGH CONWAY.
PART |.
by HUGH CONWAY.


TOLD BY PHILIP BRAND, NJ. D., LONDON.
features ana general appearance most care
fully with view 10 future recognition. All
these ridiculous statements were made as he
made the former ones. with the air Of one re-
lating simple, UndeniablC faCtS-One speak
ing plain, unvarniShed truth, and expecting
full credence to be given TO his words
1t was too absurd too sad! II was evident
to me that the barrier between his hallucina-
tons, dreams, visions, or what he chose to
call them, and pure insanity, was now very
slight and fragile one. But before | gave his
case up as hopeless determined to make an
other strong appeal to his common sense
told him of his Cousins visit to me-Of his in
tentiOns and proposition. ! begged him to
consider what consequences his extraordinary
beliefs and eXtTayagent actions must eventu-
ally entail. He listened attentively and
calmly.
You see now" he said, ''hOw right was
In attributing all this to Ralph CarristOn-
how right was to come to you, a doctor Of
standing, who can vOuch for my sanity"
"VOuch for your sanityl How can / when
you sit here and talk such arrant nonsense,
and expect me TO believe it? When you
jump from your chair and rush madly at
some visionary foe? Sane as you may be in
all else, any evidence | could give in your
favor must break down in CrOSS-eXaminatiOn
if an inkling of these things got about. Come,
CaristOn, be reasonable, and prove your
sanity by setting about this search for Miss
Rowan in proper way"
He made no reply, but walked up and
down the room apparently in deep thought.
My words seemed TO have had no effect upon
him. Presently he seated himself; and as if
TO avoid returning to the argument drew
book at hazard from my shelves and began to
read. He opened the volume at random, but
after reading few lines seemed struck by
something that met his eyes, and in few
minutes was deeply immersed in the contents
of the book. | glanced at ii to see what had
50 awakened his interest. BY a curious IA
tally he had chosen book the very worst
for him in his present frame of mind-Gil-
Christ's recently published life of William
Blake, that mastery memoir of man who
was on certain points as mad as CaTTistOn
himself. / was about to demonstrate, when
he laid down the volume and turned TO me-
Marley, the painter" he said, was a firm
believer in Blake'S Visions"
MARLEY was bigger fool than Blake" l
retOrted. Fancy his sitting down and
watching his clever but mad friend draw
spectral heads, and believing them to be
genuine portraits of dead kings whose forms
cOndeScended to appear to Baker
A sudden thought seemed to strike CARTS
ton, viii you give. me some paper and
Chalk%' he asked. Upon being furnished
with these materials he seated himself at the
DtBdll uIdW. Az ltdSb u uuLtu
times he sketched. with his usual Tapidity,
some object or another, and a dozen times,
after moments consideration, threw each
sketch aside with an air of disappointment
aud began a fresh one. At last one of his at
tempts seemed to come up to his require
ments. II have it now, eXactly!' he cried
with jOy-even triumph-in his voice. He
spent some time in putting finishing touches
TO the successful sketch, then he handed ME
the paper.
That is the man | saw Just now with
Madeline" he said. when | find him
shall find her" He spoke with all sincerity
and conviction. l looked at the paper with,
l am bound TO say, a great amount of curiOSi-
ty.-
No matter from what visionary source Car
ristOn had drawn his inspiration, his sketch
was vigorous and natural enough. l have
already mentioned his wonderful power OF
drawing portraits from memory, so was will
ing to grant that he might have reproduced
the outlines of some face which had some
where struck him. Yet why should 1t have
been this one? His drawing represented the
three-quarter face of a man-an ordinary
man-apparently between forty and fifty
years of age. 1t was a cOaTse-featured, ill
favored face, with ragged ruff of hair round
the chin. 1t was not the face of gentle
man, nor even the face of a gently-nurtured
man; and the artist, bya few cunning strokes,
had made it wear crafty and sullen look.
The sketch, as write this, lies before me, so
that | am not speaking from memory.
Now, there are some portraits of which,
without having seen the original, we say,
what splendid likenesSeS these must be-"
1t was so with CaTTiStOn's sketch. Looking
at il you felt sure il was exactly like the man
whom it was intended to represent. SO that,
with the certain amount of art knowledge
which | am at least supposed to possess, il
was hard for me, after examining the draw
Ing and recognizing the true artists touch in
every line, to bring myself to accept tie fact
that 1t was but the outcome of a diseased I'M
aginatiOn. As, at this very moment, glance
at that drawing, | scarcely blame myself for
the question that family frames itself in my
innermOst heart. Gould it be possible
could there be in certain organizations pow
ers not yet knOwn-nOt yet properly investi-
gated?"
My thought, suppOsing such thought was
ever there-waS not discouraged by CARTS
ton, who, speaking as If his faith in the bOdi
ly existence of the man whose portrait lay in
my hand was unassailable, said.
II noticed that his general appearance was
that of a cOuntryman-an English peasant;
so in the country shall find my love. More
over, il will be easy to identify the man, as
the top joint is missing from the middle fin
ger OF his right hand. As it lay on Madeline's
arm noticed that"
argued with him no more. ! felt that
words would be but wasted.