Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1890-01-18

a record OF events IN which Mr. Quatcr-
main was not personally concerned--a
Zulu novel, the story of which was told
to him by the hero many years after tho
tragedy had occurred. But with this
we have nothing to do at present.
! have often thought (Mr. Quater-
mains manuscript begins) that would
set down on paper the events connected
with my marriage, and the loss of my
most dear wife. Many years have now
passed since that event, and to some ex-
tent time has softened the old grief,
! though heaven knows 1t is still keen
enough. On two or three occasions
have even begun the record. Once
gave it up because tho writing OF 1t de-
pressed me beyond bearing, once because
suddenly was called away upon n
Journey, and the third time because q
Kaffir boy found my manuscript con-
venient for lighting the kitchen fire.
! But now that L am at leisure hero in
England, will mako fourth attempt.
IL succeed, the story may serve to in
tercst some ono in after years when l
am dead and gone. 1t is wild tale
enough, and suggests some curious re-
fections.
! am the son OF missionary. My
father was originally curate in charge of
small parish in Oxfordshire. He had
already been some years married to my
dear mother when he went there, and
he had four children, of whom l was
tho youngest. ! remember family the
place where we lived. 1t was an ancient,
long, gray house, facing tho road. There
was very large tree Of some sort in the
garden. II was hollow, and we children
used to play about inside Of it, and
knock knots of wood from tho rough
bark. We all slept in kind of attic,
and my mother always came up and
kissed us when we were in bed. used
! to wake up and see her bending over me,
q candle in her hand. There was
curious kind of pole projecting from the
wall over my bed. Once I was dread
fully frightened because my eldest
brother made me hang to 1t by my
hands. That is all remember about
our old home. 1t has been pulled down
long ago, or I would journey there to
zee it.
v, A little further down the road was q
large house with big iron gates to IL, and
on the top of the gate pillars sat two
stone lions, which were 80 hideous that I
was afraid of them. Ono could see the
house by peeping through the bars of tho
gates. 1t was gloomy looking place,
with tall yew hedge round it; but in
the summer time some flowers grew
round the sun dial in the grass plat.
This house was called the Hall, and
Squire Carson lived there. One Christ
mas-it must have been the Christmas
before my father emigrated, or should
not remember tive children went to n
Christmas tree at the Hall. There was q
great party there, and footmen wearing
red waistcoats stood at the door. In the
dining room, which was paneled with
black oak, was the Christmas tree.
Squire Carson stood in front of it. He
was tall, dark man, very quiet in his
manners, and he wore n bhnch Of seols
on his waistcoat. We used to think him
old, but as u matter of fact he was then
not more than forty. He had been, as l
afterwards learned, q great traveller in
his youth, but some six or seven years
before this date had married lady who
was half Spaniard--a papist, my father
called her.
can remember her well. She was
small and very pretty, with n rounded
figure, large black eyes and glittering
I teeth. She spoke English with a curious
accent. suppose that must have been
. funny child to look at, and know
that my hair stood up on my head then
as it does now, for still have n sketch
Of myself that my mother made of me,
in which this popularity is strongly
marked. On this occasion of the Christ
mas tree remember that Mrs. Carson
turned to tall, foreign LOOKING gentle
man who stood beside her, and tapping
him affectionately on the shoulder with
her gold eyeglasses said:
"Look, cousin-look at that droll little
boy with the big brown eyes; his hair il
like a--what you call him?-scrubbing
brush. Oh, what droll little boyl"
! The tall gentleman pulled at his mus
tache, and, taking Mrs. Carson's hand in
his, began to smooth my hair down witt
it till heard her whisper:
s'Leave go my hand, cousin. Thomas
Is looking like-like the thunderstorm.
Thomas was the name of Mr.. Carson
her husband.
After that hid myself ns well as
could behind a chair, for / was shy, an(
watched little Stella Carson, who wa:
the squire's only child, giving tho chill
dren presents off the tree. She wa
dressed as Father Christmas, with som,
soft, white stuff round her lovely littl
face, and had large, dark eyes, which
thought more beautiful than anything
had ever seen. AT last it came to IN,
turn to have a present-oddly eno11h
considered in the light Of future events
1t was large monkey. She reached i
down from one OF the lower boughs o
the tree and handed it to me, saying:
"Dat is my Christmas present to you
little Allan Quatermain."
As she did SO, her sleeve, which wa
covered with cotton wool, spangled owe
with something that shone, touched on
OF the tapers-how ] do not know-an
caught fire, and the flame ran up he
arm towards her throat. She stood quit
still. ] suppose that she was paralyze
with fear; and the ladies who were nea
screamed very loud, but did nothing
Then some impulse seized me--perhaI
instinct would be better word to us,
considering my age. ] threw mysel
upon the child, and, beating at the fiji
with my hands, mcrcifully succeeded !
extipguishing II before il really got hole
Ny wrists We're SO badly burned thi
they had to be wrapped up In wool for
long time afterwards, but with the e,
ception Of single burn upon her throa
little Stella Carson was not much hur