The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1888-07-27
TEN YEARS DEAD.

'P iNtC q ~ blA thS bhIs LAY haAtA
day as l sat at the table in the reference
department Of the Chicago public library
this face was opposite. If raised my eyes
from reading he was there, pouring over a
pile of pamphlets or sitting with dreamy,
sorrowful face over his forgotten book.
He was a man of middle age apparently,
with IN air Of refinement in his entire per-
son. Ills hair was thick and white and
was pushed back from a sensitive face.
But more thar all there was q look of al
most indeinable nature, a WEAKNESS, a
look Of measureless sorrow ia every quiv-
ering line, that irresistibly attracted my
gaze. If ever the autobiography of a man
was craven deep upon the face, this mans
was. 1t grew upon me day by day and |
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
apparation. Ny curiosity became thor
oughly aroused and / determined to speak
to him and learn the tragedy whose sinister
lines written upon n face could so affect
me.
A mere accident put us upon speaking
grew less reserved. One day as we were
leaving the library | turned to him and
said, Gregory, | wish you would tell me
your story. Your face has worked so pow
erfully upon my imagination that | cannot
refrain from asking yon point-blank IN this
way. Come tell it to me-" A spasm of
pain crossed his forehead and he hesitated,
bnt the sympathy in my voice interested
him. He said. II will tell you. But let
us go to my room across the street.
When we reached his room in the Com
mereial hotel, | sat down by the open win
dow, through which the roar of the streets
came in great puffs of sound, and waited
for him to begin. After a silence Of some
minutes, during which he sat in an easy
chair. with bowed head, this singular man,
who seemed more and more ghostly to me
as | looked at his thin hands and sad face,
began in a low subdued voice like a man
speaking from under a weight.
81 suppose | have the most remarkable
as well as the most s%orrowful history that
ever entered your ears. 1t is possible for a
man to suffer more and yet live to tell it,
but they are few who are called TO bear
that which | nave borne"
''The story | shall tell you does not re-
quire establishment to be woeful; the sim
pie history of my blighted life VIII be
enough
81 was born and reared upon a farm i'll
the central part of this State. passed the
ordinary life ola Western farmer lad, work
ing in summer and going to the district
school in winter, leading the careless hap
by boyhood to which most men look back
with pleasure.
cat fifteen years of age | entered the
preparatory department of a ~neighboring
college. My father, while not a wealthy
man, was able to help me in my course of
study, and during vacations ! assisted him.
on the farm. In this way Ispent six years,
graduating a little past my majority, with
credit to myself.
elbow well l remember that
ment night. Father had driven over from
home, some twenty miles, bringing mother
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. | found the farm a
pleasant relaxation from study and rioted
in the beauty of the busy haying field.
''That summer l spent npon the farm
working busily, till in August received a
kind note from the principal of the college,
saying l had been elected to the place of
tutor of language and literature. After
the receipt of this joyful news strained
every faculty to get ready for the work the
coming September. l finger here because
this fact, which seems so full Of promise,
was the indirect cause Of my life destrnc-
ton.
81 was engaged to be married to a young
lady | had met at college and all seemed
bright and happy. My Godl how happy
and bright time seems to me now as LOOK
across that awful abyss
Excuse me, SIR, for'.giving away to my
feelings" said the speaker, speaking 18th
long pauses like one painting with fatigue.
''The last thing which | remember before
that chasm came into my life was a quar-
rel with my father. | had been studying
very hard, and my eyes. never very strong,
had menaced my studies and | was irrita-
BILE. We were both of a passionate nature,
but in other things we were entirely oppo-
site. lie was a good father and a a of
worth and integrity, but intensely practi-
cal in Lis nature. He had little respect for
Greek and Latin and would sometimes jest
me about my studies. On that dreadful
day | retorted sharply to his TESTING words,
and one word followed another till in pas
sionate anger he ordered me to leave his
house forever. | remember turning in
c~onvulsive rage and raised my arm-then
a swift dead ~blaekness fell upon me like a
cloud and my brain melted urder soaring
heat
There was a long silence, during which
my narrator sat with bowed head, while |
sat with my soul profoundly stirred by the
agony in his voice, listening to the dull