Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1890-05-16
A MAN OF Fate.

that the tramping of my horse
upon the flOwery and untrequented
soil seemed almost a desecrahOn.
Such sweet and perfect silence 1t
was that / was startled when near
ling little stream aud flowed un.
murmuring at the foot of the noun
tain, heard a cry, as If from pain
ed lips, and just on the other side
beheld a man, bent and blighted
with age, who mildly waved his
withered hands and mOtioned me
to pause.
"Returnp he cried, "for ChrIst's
sweet sake, return! Cross not the
stream to DEATH Go back unto
your world, and leave me to my
lonelineSsp
Iwas transfxed. But the scene
had a strange and fearful facina-
ton for me. Was l in the pres
ence of a madman? "In the name
of the same Christ, l cried, "what
manner of man are you that you
should thus lnjure me?"
"COme not across the stream!'
he shouted, "cOme not across the
stream"
"Be it death to do it," l cried, as
l spurred my horse to leap, 81 will
cross your fatal stream"
He would have fled as l gained
the other side, tut leaping from
my horse I seize his arm and held
him back.
"Ob, GodV he cried. "My touch
has brought death to all loved
1t will bring death to you. 1t hal
been so lOng-sO long since last
heard a human voice, or pressed
human band, that"
But here he sunk upon the greer
turf an sobbed like a child.
"Stand off littleydJ;,~ IG SAUL
J "and let meotl my story. 1t will
ease my burdened soul to breathe
my miseries INTO human ear"
In wondering silence l complied.
"Question me not" said the old
man, "but listen:
81 would not willingly tread
npOn a worm. From my earliest
youth I was noted for my tender
ness of heart and love for all Gods
creatures. And yet, a strange fa-
tally has followed me through life,
and this hand--eyer ready to de.
feud the weak and lift up the fall
len-has brought death to all who
clasped it.
"It is a short story, hut l scarce
have heart to tell it. And yet l
would faiu set myself right with
the world have seemingly wrong
ed, and ask for a mOrsel of its
sympathy; or, at least, the charity
of its silence before the mystery of
my life-a mystery which only
God may unravel.
81 will not enter into details,
nor trace my history back to in.
fancy for the tradgedy OF my life,
IN which the world Will have the
greatest interest, began when ]
killed my father. God knows /
loved him God knows what DEVILS
hand guided the blow that ended
his noble life. But he died by my
hand.
ave we're sitting IN the library
late one afternoon. A storm was
aging without, and with each
wild rush of the wind the walls of
the old dwelling, which had stood
firm for generations, trembled.
lSuddenly a picture of my mother,
which hung over tha mantle, fell
to the floor. l picked it up,
and called to the servant to come
and replace it. He did not answer
and | LEANED that be was absent.
$50 I procured a manner, and
standing Oh q chair, l endeavOred
to replace the pictnre where it had
bung for years. AS | lifted II to
its old position there came keen
flash of tightening, and crash OF
thunder which made the building
shake to It's foundations, The
picture sllppled frO'u my grasp, q
sudden blindness seemed to SEIZE
me. | leeled and fell, the heavy
iron hammer in my hand strucl
my father on the temple, killing
him almost instantly. The blow
vas not a hard one, but, enfeebleC
by old age and many indrmites al
he was, it still had force enough Il
end his life.
81 can rot describe my feeling
when i realized what | had done
NV mother and sister were pros
trated by the terrible calamity
and for weeks it was thought my
mother could not survive. Bu
there was another tragedy to b.
enac. ed, and fate-that relentleS