The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1888-11-03
THE STORYOF ADUEL

| THE STORYO OF ADUEL.
| From Temple Bar.
81 remember it," said bhf Old
friend, las though it. had happened
yesterday: 1 was yohngstef then;
an getting to be an old man now,
but shall never forget it, never.
Poor lad, Poor lad!'
Twas about five-snd-twenty, ahd
ON my travels for the first time: Ia
leisurely fashion 1 had traversed
France and Belgium, and crossing
German frontier had reached and
taken up my abode for twenty-four
hours in a small town with a river
and a bridge; a confused mass Of
fed-roofed houses; with sheltering,
forest covered hills that favored and
sent in it's remoteness from the COM
mon highway. 1t was one of those
places whose antique air, inherited
straight form the Middle Ages,
charms and Invites the passer by;
the inn charmed me also; a gabled
house on the old market place, with
a fruitful garden reaching down to
the river at the back. The town
was not unknown to tourists, but
lying apart from the usual track, it
was little frequented; and for one
reason or another the inn, when l
arrived, was almost empty. 1t de-
pended for it's prosperity, however,
less on the custom of passing
strangers than on it's clientele of
commercial travellers, and on the ea
eellent ordinary it provided for the
towns-people and the officers of the
small town garrison. The table
d. hote, 1 found-for my stay was
prolonged from the one day l had
proposed to four or five-was always
full. The guests came dropping in
one by one, hanging each his hat and
cloak on peg by the door, and,
with friendly greeting to one and
|, another, took each his accustomed
seat at the liberal board: Each tuck
ed d napkin Under his chin; men
and maids few round the table; a
latter ofplates and tongues began.
On the evening of the second day,
returning from some excursion in the
neighborhood, too late for the pub
lie meal, my supper was served in a
small room adjoining the salle-a-
manger. A door communicated be-
tween the two apartments; it was
closed, but a sound of talking ac-
uuainted me that, though the table
d'hote might be over the guests were
not yet all dispersed. Some dispute
was apparently in progress. l could
distinguish no words; the speakers,
as l Judged, were at the further end
of the long adjoining room; but the
raised and vehement voices, a sort OF
angry clamor rising and falling, ar
gued quarrel of some kind. Pres
emily the clamor fell; the voices died
away amid a scraping of chairs OF
the wooden floor; silence succeeded.
l had nearly finished my supper,
coffee had been brought and was
preparing to light a cigar, when the
door between the rooms was thrown
open and young man entered.
Without noticing my presence he
flung himself inro a chair against
the wall and sat motionless.
He was a mere lad, not above 20,
l decided, on considering him more
attentively, a boy with light, shining
hair, a fair complexion and a girlish
delicacy of feature; a faint yellow
mustache alone testified to his man.
hood. He was dressed in light
colored tourist suit; there was moth
ing remarkable in his appearance,
nothing to distinguish him especially
from any other fresh young fellow
abroad on his travels; but something
in his attitude as he sat without
movement in the chair into which he
had flung himself arrested my atten.
ton. He sat with his legs stretched
out, his hands thrust into his pockets,
his head dropped on his breast.
His face, which should nat
urally, l imagined, wear the
pink and white complexion properto
fairhaired youth, was empty of even
tinge ofcolor; his brows were drawn
together; he looked miserable, over
whelmed, desperate; could not tell
how he looked. He might, l conjec-
tured, have been losing money in
some bet or game of chance; man
who has left his fortune at gamb-
ling table might wear just such an
expression. Twice l thought of ad-
dressing him, but l was deferred by
his complete Inconsistencies of my
presence and by ignorance of his ma
tionality; for had no, better skill in
languages than an imperfect knowl-
edge of French, and a still more
stumbling acquaintance with Ger
man. l finished my coffee, therefore,
in silence, and as he still made no
sign, took up my hat and silently
left the room.
On my way through the hall | ac-
costed the gray haired head waiter,
an old man, grown old in the service
of the inn, and asked him if he knew
anything about heyoung fellow. He
was an Englishman, the man an
swered: and opened the visitors book
to show me his name. His name was
there, Charles Holmes, of Foxholme,
Surrey, England, and Magadalen Col
lege, Oxford; he had arrived the pre-
vious night, he was mefrom Frank
fort, he was on his way to Brussels
all this inscribed with boyish love of
detail in a round .boyish hand. He
was a fellow-countryman then, and
alone apparently; for with the excep.
ton of my own name, none other of
English nationality appeared on the
list for many days back. His pale
look as he dropped into his chair
passed before my eyes. Almost |
turned hack into the little pariOr to