The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-01-07

of either Loyola, Calvin or Luther, but the true religion as shad- owed in every Christian soul that longs after virtue, infinity and God. He did not believe in importuning the Deity with continual praying, as He knows best our needs he did not be- lieve that the mind should remain in the gloom of biased dogmas, doctrines and ideas; and, as an honest soul should be as free as it is innocent, he did not believe it should be enthralled to religious slavery of bigotry, as such is he'll indeed. He warmly de- claimed those many myths borrowed from the ancients; for instance, the uprising of Lucifer and his clan, which is so belike the mock heroic deeds of the gods. He believed that heaven was the abode of happiness, and not battlefield; that, as vice was not, there could be no rebellion and that God never suppressed, but rather en- couraged, progress, ambition and ge- nius. AS to surprises in genius the Deity, it was folly no soul would dream of, being mere impossibility. He thought that which conscience breaches, is right; and in his teach- ings he differed with most priests and ministers, and more so with infamous gospel-mongers. Against the latter, he drew his deadliest sword of fury out the scabbard of passion, and amid all the artillery of his wrath, thun- dered forth his thoughts in terrible storm of words. The Devil being everywhere, you saw him in the pull pit preach the word of God occu- pying a sinecure upon which many eyes are set; and only seeking popu- larity and ten thousand dollars year.
 In his oratorical efforts he rcsembled Eloquence in despair, with a slight swell of his little breast, and with uplifted hands clutching empty noth- ing. Then, we may aptly say, Ridi- cule pointed his mocking fingers at reason. His delivery was in a pathetic strain, his sayings whimsical, and his actions ludicrous. His har- angues were always short, as he knew that multitude of words and scarce an idea tires an audience, as surely as continual scolding wears the husband. In his arguments he wandered from discussions to disputes, and, in his el- oquence from basso to falsetto. Yet, at times, he could be serious without being gloomy, or humorous without ridiculous.
 In crowd he felt so lonely, and was the most observed and most ob- serving and there looked SO stern, se- were and morose, that he seemed misanthrope-mankind's enemy and the worlds worst friend. When alone, he was more at ease, being compan- toned to imagination's pleasurable assembly of thoughts. It was in those hours of solitude he revelled in an- tiquated lore, quaint and curious, and in his unhappiest moods wrote those happiest stories, which, now and then, flash with touch of genious akin to godliness.
 Those who chanced to know him familiarly soon learnt that he deserved of being liked, if not loved, of being studied rather than vindicated. He was kind without being sympathetic, sociable without being companiona- ble; he would rather dislike and hold one ill contempt than hate him; and being generous he soon forgave, but being sensitive, he never forgot an injury or an insult. His was soul that never loved woman, nor courted friendship; who never fauned to the rich, nor stood aloof the poor; who never idolized greatness, nor ex- alted ignorance.
 Dame Gossip (whose tongue is all islander and eyes all jealousy) had whispered many dark thing concern- ing Dr. Picpus. She knew this, and she knew that. She was positive of a mystery underlying his life; but, to her sorrow, the mystery was not sat- isfactorily solved, as she admitted it was as yet as obscure and deep as the internal darkness. Still always being on the alert for the faintest clew, she ever kept vigilant eye of suspicion. She was satisfied, however, that he was miser, and that his garret was stored with gold.
 The IOllOWlDg note IOunu among his papers after his death may have explained the dark mystery to Dame Gossip's satisfaction:
 DEAR HAROLD: l am the anknown fi1ie',d who has supported you and yours, in untold luxury, while I, have lived in abject poverty. It was an act of repentance and remorse. Ah lnen thought me wit; but ahl OCT such unbounded humor sat deep mel ancholy.
 Twenty years ago, in fit of pas- sion, killed the only friend I ever had-your brother. Ever since, his memory has haunted my daily thoughts. Ever since, I never knew one happy hour-never, never, never.
 IAxa