Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1888-07-04
The gtutp Teller.

Tte Stutp Teller.
TEN YEARS DEAD
His face was striking one. Day after
day as sat at the table in the reference
department of the Chicago public library,
this face was opposite. If 1 raised my
eyes from my reading he was there, por-
ing over pile of pamphlets or sitting
with dreamy, sorrowful face over MS Tor
gotten book.
He was man of middle age apparently,
with an air of refinement in his entire per-
son. His hair was thick and white and
was pushed back from fine sensitive face.
But more than all there was look of al
most indefnable nature, WEAKNESS, q
look of measureless sorrow in every qulv-
erinp line, that irresistibly attracted my
gaze. If ever the autobiography of a man
was craven deep upon the face, this mans
was. It grew upon me day by day and 1
determined to learn it.
He was so silent, so reserved, so intent,
in the midst of the turmoil of that busy
city, that he had upon me the effect OF an
apparition. My curiosity became thor
oughly aroused and determined to speak
to him and learn the tragedy whose SIMS
tor lines written upon a face could 80 affect
me.
A mere accident put US upon speaking
terms, and as we met from day TO day ne
grew less reserved. One day as we were
leaving the library I turned to him and
said, "Gregory, wish you would tell me
your story. Your face has worked SO
powerfully upon my imagination that l
cannot refrain from asking you point
blank in this way. Come, tell it to me-"
A spasm, pain, crossed his forehead and
he hesitated, but the sympathy in my
voice interested him. He said, IL will
tell you. But let US 20 to my room across
the street."
When we reached his room in the hotel,
I sat down by the open window, through
which the roar of the street came in great
puffs of sound, and waited for him to begin.
After silence OF some minutes, during
which he sat in an easy chair, with bowed
head. this singular man, who seemed more
and moro ghostly to me as / looked at his
hands and sad face, began in low subdued
voice like man speaking from under
weight.
II suppose I have the most remarkable
as we'll as the most sorrowful history that
ever entered your ears. 1t is possible for
man to suffer more and yet live to tell 1t,
but they are few who are called to bear
that which I have borne"
'sThe story I shall tell does not require
establishment to be woeful; the simple
history of my blighted life will be enough.
81 was born and reared upon farm IN
the central part of this State. passed
the ordinary life of the Western farmer
lad, working in summer and going to the
district school in winter, leading the care
less happy boyhood to which most men
look back with pleasure.
"At fifteen years of age entered the
preparatory department of neighborlng
college. NV father, while not wealthy
man, was able to help me in my course OF
study, and during vacations assisted him
on the farm. In this way spent six
years, graduating, at little past my ma
jority, with credit to myself.
"How we'll remember that commence
ment night. Father had driven over from
home, some twenty miles, bringing moth
er and sister. And then the next day, a
drowsy June day, we drove home through
the tropical luxuriance of spring just turn
ing into summer. I found the farm q
pleasant relaxation from study and rioted
in the beauty of the busy haying field:
"That summer spent upon the 1arm
working busily, till in August 1 received
kind note from the principal of the COL
lege, saying I had been elected to the place
of tutor of language and literature. After
the receipt of this joyful news l strained
every faculty to get ready for the work the
coming September. l linger here because
this fact, which seemed so full of promise,
was the indirect cause of my life's destruc-
ton.
II was engaged to be married to a
young girl had met at the college and all
seemed bright and happy. My God how
happy and bright that time seems to me
now as 1 look across that awful abyss
"Excuse me sir for giving away to my
feelings" said the speaker, speaking with
long pauses like one painting with fatigue.
1.-THE last thing which remember before
that chasm came into my life was quar-
rel with my father. I had been studying
very hard, and my eyes. never very
strong, had menaced my studies ard was
irritable. We were both of a passionate
nature, but in other things were entirely
opposite. He was good father and man
of worth and integrity, but intensely prac-
tical in his nature. He had little respect
for Greek and Latin and would sometimes
jest me about my studies. On that dread
full day retorted sharply to his jesting
words, and one word followed another till
he ordered me to leave the house forever.
I remember turning in convulsive rage
and raised my arm-then a swift dead
blackness fell upon me like cloud and
my brain melted under soaring heat"
There was long silence, during which
my narrator sat with bowed head, while
sat with soul profoundly stirred by the
agony of his voice, listening to the dull
roar of the human tide that lashed along
the street. Then he began speaking again
in low monotonous key that thrilled me
to the heart.
"When I regained my consciousness,
was lying upon heap of straw. l did
not Immediately know this, but it came
gradually. did not think-the sensation
of rustling straw seemed to come into my
mind of itself. I remember feeling of it
wouderingly with my hands. seemed to
be wrapped in mist, through which
familiar sounds make their way family as
from distance. heard the trampling OF
animals and the noise Of farmyard fowls
grooming and cackling. Slowly my frozen
brain resumed its work, and felt rather
than saw / was in stable and heard the
cattle on either side of me. Then stable
boy reused me with cry that was like q
shock to my faculties and I rose feebly to
nv feet. I remember thinking the boy
had almost a comi~al look of terror upon
his chubby face and breathed hard as il
from running. He was fat and round.
Il was not certain of anything. My
sensation was of beWilderment. All was
unaccountabIe, all mystery. l looked