Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1889-12-08

| fisherfOlk. And mere melhluhs mus w
lie awhile, for thy left leg is broken by
the force Of the waves.
I strove TO move my foot, but could
not. It was true, the bone was broken
above the knee.
"Who art thou and how art thou nam
eds" asked the rough-bearded sailor.
I am an Egyptian traveller whose ship
hath sunk in the fury OF the gale, ana
Olympus am 1 named" I answered, tor
Olympus these people called mountain
that we had sighted, and therefore TOOK
the name at hazard. And as Olympus
henceforth was known.
Here with these rough isher-folk did |
abide for the half of year, paying them
little out Of the sum of gold that had
come safely ashore with me. For long
was it before my bones grew together
again, and then was l left somewhat OF a
cripple: for l who had been tall and
straight and strong now imped-onee
limb being shorter than the other. And
sitter I recovered from my hurt, still llv-
ed there. and toiled with them at the
trade of fishing: for whittier should go or
what should do that l knew not, and,
for awhile. fain was l to become a peas
ant fisherman, and so wear my weary
life away. And these people entreated
me kindly, though, as others, they feared
me much, holding me to be q wizard
brought hither by the sea. FOR methlnks
that my sorrows had stamped so strange
an aspect on my face that men gazing
thereon grew fearful Of what lay beneath
its calm.
There then I abode, till at length one
night as I lay and strove to sleep great
restlessness came upon me, and q mighty
desire once more to see the broad face OF
Sihor. But whether this desire was of the
Gods or born Of my own heart, not know
ing l can not tell. So strong was 1t at
the last. that before it was dawn | rose
from my bed Of straw, and clothed my
self in my fisher garb, and, because had
no wish to answer questions, thus l took
forewen of my humble hosts. First on
the well-cleaned table of wood placed
some pieces of gold and then taking a
not of flour l strewed it in the form of
letter-writing-
"This gift from Olympus, the Egyptian,
lcbo returns into the sea-"
Then went, and on the third day came
to the great city of Salamas, that IS also
on the sea. Here l abode IN the usher
mans quarter till a vessel was about to
sail for Alexandria, and to the captain of
this vessel. a man of Paphos, | hired my
self as a sailor. We sailed with favor
ing wind. and on the fifth day came to
Alexandria, that hateful city, and saw
the light glaring on its golden domes.
Here might not abide. So once again
| hired myself out as q sailor, giving my
labor in return for passage, and we passed
I'D the Nile. And from the talk of the
men | learned that Cleopatra had come
back to Alexandria, drawing Antony with
her, and that together they lived in
royal state in the palace on the Lochlas.
Indeed, the boatmen already had song
thereon, which they sang as they labored
at the oar. Also l heard how the galley
that was sent to search for the vessel
that carried the Syrian merchant had
foundered with all her crew, and the tale
that the Queens astronomer, Harmachls,
had flown to Heaven from the roof OF the
house at Tarsus. And the sailors Won
dered because | sat and labOred, and
would not sing their ribald songs of the
loves of Cleopatra. For they, too, began
to fear me, and mutter concerning me
among themselves. Then l knew that
was q man accursed and set apart-aman
whom none might love.
On the sixth day we drew nigh to
AbOuthis, where l left the craft, and right
glad were the sailors to see me go. And,
with q breaking heart, | walked through
the fertile fields, seeing faces that well
knew. But in my rough disguise and
and limping gait none knew me. AT
length, | came as the sun sank, near to
the great outer pylon Of the Temple; and
here l crouched down in the ruins Of
house, not knowing wherefore had come
or what was abou; to do. Like q lost
OK had strayed from far, back to the
fields of my birth, and for what? If my
father, Amenemhat, still lived, surely he
would turn his face from me! l dared
not 20 into the presence of my father. l
sat hidden there among the broken rafters
and idly watched the pylon gates, to
see if perchance a face | knew should
issue forth. But none came forth or
entered in, though the great gates stood
wide; and then l saw that herbs were
growing tWixt the stones, where no herbs
had grown for ages. What could this be?
Was the Temple deserted? Nay how could
the worship of the eternal Gods have
ceased that for thousands of years had, day
by day, been offered in the holy place?
Was, then, my father dead? 1t well might
be. And vet, why this silence? where
were the priests? where the worshippers?
No more could bear the doubt, but as the
sun sank red l crept like hunted sckal
through the open gates, and on till l
reached the first great Hall of Pillars.
Here paused and gazad around me-nOt
a sight, not a sound in the dim and
holy place. On with beating heart went
to the second great hall of six-and- thirty
pillars, where had been crowned Lord of
all the Land; still not sight nor sound
Thence, half fearful of my own football, so
terrible did it echo in the silence of the de-
serted HOLES, passed down the passage
of the name of the Pharsohs toward my
fathers chamber. There still hung the
curtain over the doorway; but what would
there be within?-also emptiness? l lifted
IL, anu uOlSclCbol1 bucocO Us anu bhSAC III
his carven chair at the table wherein his
long white beard flowed down. sat my faith
or. Amenemhst, clad in priestly robes. At
first l thought ne was dead, so still he sat;
at length be turned his head, and saw
that his orbs were white and sightlsss. He
was blind and his face was as thin as the
face of dead man, and woeful with age
and grief.
stood still and felt the blind eyes wan
dering over me. could not speak, dared
not speak to him; would 60 and hide my
self sfresh.
Already had 1 turned and grasped the
curtain, when, in deep, slow voice, my
father spoke:
"Come hlther, thou who vast my son
and art a traitor. Come hither, thou
Harmachis, wherein Khem builded up
her hope. Not in vain, then, have drawn
thee from far away Not in vain have I