San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1886-06-18

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 edibles, adj
dressed, in the hand | knew, TO Master
Hugh Trelawney," at MINISTER'S. Ny 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 a line. With a some
what heavy heart, distributed the more
pershable fruits among my schoOl-mates,
reServing a very little for myself-for 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, 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, a 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.
l 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 1t, the secret strength of
my life. 1t frightened the coarse and indi-
gent experience of schOOl-life filled 1t with
tender and mysterious meanings and associa-
tons; it made me inquiring and tender, in
stead of hard and mean; it determin ed my
tastes i'm favor of beauty, and made Inc rever
ence true wOmanhOOd wherever | saw it. In
word, it gave my too commonplace expert
ence just the cOIOring 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 tOlerable advantage of Mum
ster's tuition, and was sutficientlywell ground
ed in the details of an ordinary English edu-
cation. | had, moreover, a 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
schOolmaster, but at this period my father
died, and | found myself cast upon the
world.
1t is not my purpOse-it is unnecessary-to
enlarge on my own private history, and /
shall touch upon it merely in so far as it at
fects the strange incidents in which after
ward 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 first feeling which the news produced in
me was one of very confused al dubious
sorrow. OF late years, had seen cry little
of my father. Since had come to MINISTER'S
| had been left there, never even going home
for my holidays as other boys did. MINISTER'S
was my home, and to all intents and puT-
poses Mr.. and Mrs Munster were father
and mother to me. Still, for all that, the
knowledge that had father In some re-
mote quarter of the globe, who paid for my
maintenance, and came to MINISTER'S about
once in six or eight months to spend an hour
with me, had been a source of some Satisfac-
ton, and caused me now, for a short time at
least, to deplOre his loss.
Then came other and more complicated
thoughts. If had no longer father to pay
for my maintenance, what was TO become OF
me; for, as far as | knew, | had no other
relation in the world? Puzzled by these
thoughts and seeing no solution to them, L
could do nothing but wait in eagernesS and
dread for what was to follow.
The next morning, when | was dressing,
Mrs. Munster came into my bedroom and
handed me jacket with Grape band ON
the left arm; she also pointed to cap which
she had brought in with her, and said:
you must wear this one now, Hugh"
Then she turned, bent her kindly eyes up
on me, and kissed my forehead and murmur-
ed, my poor boy"
/ ventured to inquire whether i was to see
my poor father in his coffin or to follow him
to the grave. The tears came Into the wO-
mans eyes, and she took my hand.
You will never see him again." she said;
"never. He died in America, and was buried
before we received the news. But you are
brave boy" she added, land must not grieve.
1t is sad for you, my dear; but trouble is sure
to come sooner or later. II il comes when
one is young, so much the better, for one is
better able TO bear il"
Mrs. Munster" said, piteously, 'what
Is to become of mep'
The good lady shook her head.
II don't know, my DEAR" she replied;
''yOur poor father has not left you a siXpeDce-
Hugh" she added suddenly have you any
relationsP"
NO." replied, mot one"
Are you sureT she continued. Think,
my dear"
/ did think, but it was of no use. My brain
would not cOnjure up one being to whom
could possibly lay any claim.
mo uncles, or aunts,O cOusins%' persisted
Mrs. Munster; when suddenly exclaimed:
Eyes, Mrs. Munster; now remember, Pve
got an aunt At least had an aunt; but
she may be dead, like father"
LET us hope not" said Mrs. Munster.
swell, my dear, tell me what she is like,
and where she is to be found"
~ don't know what she is liks," replied.
~ never saw her."
"Never saw her?''
mo; she never came near us; but I've
heard father speak about her. She was my
mothers sister, and her name is Martha Pen.
dragon, and she lives at Cornwall"
Martha Pendragon," repeated Mrs. Nun,
ster. lis she marriedr'
reflected for moment then l remember
ed having seen letters addressed to Mrs.
Pendragon," and said as much.
sand where does she livep
'St Gurlott's, Cornwall"
Mrs. Munster wrote ii down.
0gMrs pandrapnn st GurIOtt'S Corn