New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1891-09-02
CHAPTER LII
ON THE TRACK.

It might be some three weeks after
the events related in the last chapter,
when, towards the close of a. wet and
gloomy day, in a small seaport town
on the English coast, q man might
have been seen walking slowly down
one of the close and dirty streets
which led to the quay-at that hour,
and in such weather, almost the only
part OF the town giving signs of life
and animation. Several vessels lay
in the harbor, outward bound, and
the preparations attendant upon
their sailing involved q good deal of
traffic to and fro, while upon the quay
was gathered groups of sailors with
their friends or acquaintance, pas
sengers who fingered to the last mo-
ment on shore, and many others hay
ing more or less interest in the de-
parting vessels and their freight, IMAM
innate or human.
The solitary straggler whom I have
mentioned had not long since formed
q portion OF such a group, in fact, had
left the inn where he had slept and
dined; with the intent of going on
board the vessel in which he had taken
a berth, and the news that it would
not sail for the next four-and twenty
hours had been the most unwelcome
intelligence he could have received.
And yet, with that inconsistency
which forms so striking a trait in
most characters, he had declined the
opportunity offered him to 20
aboard and spend the night, which he
might we'll have done, his score at the
inn being settled, and chambermaids
| and boots remembered, and his back
fairly turned on all demands.
He would, perhaps, have been puz-
zled to answer to himself what cause
he could have for lingering on a. land
he had made up his mind to quit for
ever; unless, indeed, that might be in
itself reason. However, turn his back
he did, having sent his Engagement
| very abundant-aboard, and, enter
ing into none OF the subjects OF CONVEX
| sation or interest at the quay. he
wendell his way slowly back into the
town, and sauntered up a bye street
wholly deserted, and in which his
meditations-not over-pleasant, as 1T
seened-ran no chance OF being dis
turbed, for, save the sound OF his own
footballs, none broke the silence. He
was evidently prepared for rough
and prolonged journey, with all the,
experience OF an accustomed traveller;
| over his other apparel he wore a cloak,
ample and sea-worthy, which his right
arm held firmly around his body,
| leaving the other at liberty.
His face, alfhidden by the tarpaulin
hat he wore, was lined and furrowed;
and in his hair and rough, uncared-for
bea I'd, but few traces remained to tell
| of the dark hue they one e could boast.
| His head was bowed forward as he
| walked, like a man with whom anxi-
Gus and solitary thought has become
a habit; yet his step was firm, his form
athletic. He could not be much past
| forty; but our years should be rather
numbered by the cares which nave
marked them, than by the suns set
ting and rising, or the seasons course.
At the corner of the street, the man,
deep in thought, and with eyes down
cast, had like to have fallen over a
person-the first he had met in that
street turning the corner some
what hastily, was about to enter a
shop, the steps OF which the moody
passenger had stumbled over, and so
came in contact with the other.
Hurrledly recovering himself, and
courteously apologizing to the young
woman, he restored to her a small
bundle which had slipped from her
grasp upon the steps; then, as. she
passed in, he was continuing his walk,
but his eye had nvoluntarily followed
the woman: and now fell on the win
dow OF the shop.
It was a pawnbroker a dozy, jog