The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1891-09-30

steel dS no never ndu uOn6 DeIore. InlS
was fortune
He managed to work all night. He
was not conscious of the passing hours
further than to watch the moon and
bless it for the help it brought In the
morning he had taken more ore than he
could carry. He knew it was true
vein, and that such a fissure as that
must extend great distance. But the
rock from which he took it was only
fragment from the massive hills. 1t was
matter of tons, of feet. They were
mountains and miles. A vein like that,
if he could find the spot in the powders
from which this fragment was broken,
would yield the richest fortune in Col
orado.
He took his bearings, staked his
claim, covered all signs of success and
gathered up load of metal. 1t was so
pure he could cut it with a knife. He
slung the burden on his shoulder and
started back to Denver At noon he
rested in a camp of miners and they
stopped work to look at him-he was so
ghostly. But he had an independent,
defiant air about him now, and they
waited upon him. They made him eat
dinner with them. He had not realized
before how near he stood to starvation.
After dinner he pressed on with long,
impatient strides and reached Denver in
the evening. His friends did not know
him. He had defiant, forceful air He
had good lodging and the best service
obtainable. In the morning he pur-
chased an outfit and plenty of food. A
man loaned him a mule "They wouldn't
loan me anything a week ago." he said
bitterly. He knew they looked at him
as one who had ''struck it." He remem-
bered now that he looked enviously at
just such figures. He felt sort of en-
nifty at the world, feverish hatred of
Carlisle. He hoped he might not break
down till accounts were squared.
He went back to his claim and found
it richer than he dreamed. In week
he had packload of silver that was
worth twenty-five dollars pound In
a month he had enough for train And
he had only found the beginning of the
wealth. He had traced the tissure to its
parent in the hill, and had satisfied him
self of the richest find in Colorado. But
there he broke down. He had Just
strength enough left to load the mules
and start back. He was weakened with
hemorrhage. He was blinded and stag
gering. He reached Denver leaning
across one OF the swaying animals and
begging in Gods name for assistance.
They took care of him then. He was
a rich man. He was far more than that
in their eyes. He was fortunate. But
ne tassed III a frenzy of excitement and
called upon them to hurry him home.
1t would have been death to the man
who stole dollar. They made COM
mon cause of caring for him. He told
them freely, without reserve, rapidly,
where the vein could be found He
knew he could never come back and
keep his claim. They struggled and
fought for the privilege of buying. They
asked no guarantee beyond what they
saw. They knew he was telling the
truth. Their purchase money was
worth moro than the ore he had brought
away. He was hurried to the train. He
was hurried home. He reached there
unconscious.
Mary Albright had been bearing a
heavy burden. She could not repay the
money her husband had borrowed from
Carlisle. She could not avoid under
standing the horrible alternative offered
her. She could not defend herself except
by taking her boys out from under the
only roof they had in the world. She did
not hesitate in the choice. She only
planned to postpone the evil day. She
promised the money faithfully Sept /.
In default she pledged foreclosure
dearer to George Carlisle than all the
money In the world. July drifted into
August, and August was burning away
in the torrid rays of sultry sun. George
Carlisle rode past the Albright farm day
after day. He watc he'd his boy Winslow
playing in the barn or in the woods with
Fred, the eldest son Of his prospective
victim. He wondered why the lads were
such inseparable companions, and
thought of the enmity that had always
been between their fathers
Late in the month he walked across
the fields and tried to enter the house.
Mary met him at tho door and warned
him never to cross the threshold. He
pushed his way into the house and she
shot him.
That day the news came that Amos
Albright had arrived, sick, and dying at
the county town, ten miles away. His
wife and children had fled from the house
which could be home to them no longer
and were hurrying to the station when
the news met them. She knew that
officers would oyertake her, for whether
or not her shot was fatal, it was too seri-
GUS to be forgiven. She met her husband
and drank her great soul full of his one
caress, OF his one kind pressure of pallid
lips upon her own, and then laid him
down contented. He never knew OF her
trouble.
People in the little Illinois town know
to this day the persecution with which
George Carlisle followed this heroic
woIiNn: knew that the money her hus
band brought her was dissipated in
fight he had not the manliness to aban
don. And they also know the woman
was escorted by half the population OF
the township back to the home made
sacredly hers by the defense there of hei
honor, and that she was there protected
by them against the ISLANDERS as we'll al
the assaults of her enemy until he Sent
at last-a tardy volunteer--int the
arn-y and fell with Heavens curse
upon him in the very first fight of his
life.
They know as well that the children on
these families grew up together in love,
unmarried by the strife OF parents, and
that between bold Fred Albright and
Madeline Carlisle there was bond the
stronger for the stormy days Of youth.
And closer than David to Jonathan,
nearer than Pythias to Damon drew the
hearts and the lives of Fred and Wins
low, the boys who played in the barn
and the woods while poor, furnishing
Amos Albright was fighting death at the
mouth Of mine.
When they were grown they went to
Colorado together, and found a city |