The Press., 1888-04-05

gence. God in heaven, was B years of age, and vet had lived but twenty-two That ten years was one long dreamless nighti When I became stronger | asked the question had held in my heart and dared not ask. asked of Agnes My poor boy, sobbed my mother, Agnes married five years ago. She remained true to Sou and waited five long years, ana you never camel What became of me after that night, how came home again, and why had no memory of all those years, these have been mysteries. I have visited the asylums of the state and homes of all kinds. I have sent circulars to asy- lums of all the neighboring states asking if they ever had a patient answering to my description, am completely baf- fled in every direction. Again and again have gone over the mysterious circumstances of my return Noserap of paper was upon my person, and my clothes were neat and clean My shoes were new, but betrayed walking. My brain was numb and weak and refused to control my limbs, and was very hungry, but my muscles were firm ana my body in good health. My hands were slightly bronzed, but not calloused by labor. had not been earning my way by manual labor, neither did look like one who had been in confinement. My only tenable the ory is that after leaving my bed that night l had wandered away or been carried to & great distance and kept ill some asylum for insane or invalids, and there remained for ten years. Escaping at last, 8 subtle in- stinct led me. am always haunted by the thought that with the cum ming of madman took upon myself some character different from the one in which I was advertised, and thus escaped detection. Perhaps lived free and unfettered, perhaps 6 menial, working at ~ base duties, and perhaps-a thief With all my journeying, with all l have done, and with all the best detectives can do, not one ray of light has eyer penetrated the dark ness of that soundless night. You see before you @ man old and white at 36. l am man without hope and without a motive save these have named My Agnes is lost to me. I saw her once with her happy childred around her, and kept aloof that the chill and damp of my life might not touch her. She does not know of my return; she never will while live. My return has been kept & secret in my native place. My love for my books and study is gone; my motives for my former reading have died. Tam studying, as you see, but only on cases bearing likeness to mine. I am possessed of the almost in- sane desire of piercing the impenetrable gloom. I study the reports of the insane and invalid asylu1ns in the vain hope that may find a clew. My mother and sister plead with me to give up my search and be resigned, but it cannot be. Strangers think me still mad. Think what it is to stand at the very gateway of life, fair girl ready to walk at your side, ambitious plans opening in your heart, vistas of delight stretching away to the future; then to have sable hand reach from the unseen shadows and smite you with thunderboit, covering your life with the blackness of an eternal night to slip into 8 noiseless sea, soundless and pitt less, to be washed up at the end of ten years; your love lost to you, father from whom you parted in rage dead through grief and remorse, your plans 8 wreck, tortured by the past and mocked by the future, g. writhihg worm beneath the remorseless heel of fate, then to say to me if you can, Forget it all and be resigned.'n
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 was dumb in the presence of such 8 man and such an august sorrow. The booming roar of the city's traffic formed thrilling undertone to that monotonous, intense voice in which he finished his story. With bowed head and fearful eyes pressed his hand and stepped out into the rushing life of the street. have framed theory after theory to account for this mystery. It so wrought upon me that called upon the chief of the detective agency, who seEifed his story. "We de- tectives," said he, ssee continually this shady side of the street of which you today have had glimpse." He had no tenable theory; he, too, was baffied at every turn. passed in profound saeiect4Bn from the presence of Gregory, thisgray haired, broken young man, who had thrown over me, a casual listener, the shadow of his profound misery. Small wonder if he beinsane- New Noon