The Dickinson press., 1890-03-22

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where.
Whenh his death
N was known, his
A papers were
- handed to myself
= % as his literary ex-
II ecutor. Among
them found two manuscripts, of which
the following is one. The other is simply
a record of events in which Mr.. Quater-
main was not personally concerned-a
Zulu novel, the story of which was told
to him by the hero many years after the
tragedy had occurred. But with this
we have nothing to do at present.
I 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 it is still keen
enough. On two or three occasions I
have even begun the record. Once l
gave It up because the writing of it de.
pressed me beyond bearing, once because
I suddenly was called away upon a
journey, and the third timo because a
Kafflr boy found my manuscript con-
venient for lighting the kitchen fire.
But now that am at leisure here in
England, I will make a fourth attempt.
If succeed, the story may serve to in
terest some one in after years when I
am dead and gone. 1t is a wild tale
enough, and suggests some curious re-
Elections.
I am the son of a 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 I was
the youngest. / remember family the
place where we lived. Itwas an ancient,
long, gray house, facing the road. There
was very large tree of some sortin the
garden. Itwas hollow, and we children
used to play about inside of it, and
knock knots of wood from the rough
bark. We all slept in a 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,
a candle in her hand. There was a
curious kind of pole projecting from the
wall over my bed. Once was dread
fully frightened because my eldest
brother made me hang to it by my
hands. That is all remember about
our old home. 1t has been pulled down
long ago, or I would journey there to
see it.
A little further down the road was q
large house with big iron gates to it, and
on the top Of the gate pillars sat two
stone lions, which were SO hideous that l
was afraid of them. One could see the
house by peeping through the bars of the
gates. 1t was gloomy looking place,
with a 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 a
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 a bunch of seals
on his waistcoat. We used to think him
old, but as matter of fact he was then
not more than forty. He had been, as I
afterwards learned, great traveller in
his youth, but some six or seven years
before this date had married lady who
was half a Spaniard-ap papist, my father
called her.
I can remember her well. She was
small and very pretty, with rounded
figure, large black eyes and glittering
teeth. She spoke English with curiDus
accent. suppose that I 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 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 is
like a-wlat you call him?-scrubbing
brush. Oh, what droll little boy!"
The tall gentleman pulled at his mus
tache, and, taking Mrs. Carson's hand in
his, began to smooth my hair down with
it till heard her whisper:
"Leave go my hand, cousin. Thomas
is looking like-like tho thunderstorm. I"
Thomas was the name of Mr.. Carson,
her husband.
After that hid myself as well as
could behind chair, for was shy, and
watched little Stella Carson, who was
the squire's only child, giving the chill
dren presents off the tree. She was
dressed as Father Christmas, with some
soft, white stuff round her lovely little
face, and had large, dark eyes, which I
thought more beautiful than anything I
had ever seen. At last it came to my
turn to have present-oddly enoaSh,
considered in the light of future events,
it was large monkey. She reached it
down from one of the lower boughs Of
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 was
covered with cotton wool, spangled over
with something that shone, touched one
of the tapers-how I do not know-and
caught fire, and the flame ran up her
arm towards her throat. She stood quite
still. I suppose that she was paralyzed
with fear; and the ladies who were near
screamed very loud, but did nothing.
Then some impulse seized me-perhaps
S,,,t;,,,% would I,o a hok%a, ,,,o.d IL 500