Waterbury evening Democrat., 1890-01-24

Lifting the knife on high, for a moment she held it glittering in the moonlight, then plunged it into her own breast and fell headlong to the ground.
 sprang over the wall and ran to her. She was not yet dead. Presently she opened her eyes, and I saw that the mad ness had gone out of them.
 "Macumazahn," she said, speaking in English and in thick, difficult voice, ike ono who half forgot and half remem- bered, 'Macumazahn, remember now. have been mad. Is she really dead, Macumazahn?'
 "Yos," said, she is dead, "and you killed her."
 II killed her!' the dying woman faltered, "and loved her. Yes, yes-I know now. I became brute again and dragged her to the brutes, and now once more 1 am woman, and she is dead, and I killed her-because loved her so. killed her who saved mo from the brutes. I am not dead yet, Macuma- zahn. Take me and torture mo to death, slowly, very slowly. It was jealousy of you that drove me mad, and I have killed her, and now she never can for give me.''
 Ask forgiveness from above," I said, for Hendrika had been 9 Christian, and the torment of her remorso touched me.
 II ask no forgiveness she said 'sMay God torture me forever, because killed her; may I become a brute for ever till she comes to find me and for give me! I only want her forgiveness" ," And wailing in an anguish of the heart so stre ng that her bodily suffering seemed to be forgotten, Hendrika, the Baboon-woman, died.
 ! went back to the kraals, and, walk ing Indaba-zimbi, told him what had happened, asking him to send some one to watch the body, as l proposed to givo it burial. But next morning it was gone, and I found that the natives, hearing of tho event, had taken the corpse and thrown it to the vultures with every mark of hate. Such, then, was the end of Hendrika.
 A week after Hendrika's death I left Babyan kraals. The place was hateful to mo now, it was haunted place. I sent for old Indaba-zimbi and told him that was going. He answered that it was well. 'The place has served your turn," he said; there you have won that joy which it was fated you should win, and have suffered those things which it was fated you should suffer. Yes, and though you know it not now, the joy and the suffering, like the sunshine and storm, are the same thing, and will rest at last in the same heaven, the heaven from which they came. Now go, Ma cumazahn.''
 I asked him if he was coming with me.
 "No,'' he answered, "our paths lie apart henceforth, Macumazahn. We met together for certain ends. Those ends are fulfilled. Now each ono goes his own way. You have still many years before you, Macumazahn; my years are few. When we shake hands here 1t will be for the last time. Perhaps we may meet again, but 1t will not be in this world. Henceforth we have each ot us friend the less.'
 "Heavy words," said.
 sTrue words," he answered.
 Well, I have little heart to write oi the rest of it. went, leaving Indaba. zi,lbi in charge of the place, and mak. ing him present of such cattle and goods as did not want.
 Tota I, of course, took with me. Fort unately by this time she had almost re. covered the shock to her nerves. The baby Harry, as ho was afterwards named, was fine, healthy child, and l was lucky in getting respectable na- tive woman, whose husband had been