Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-07-09

him a great stairway of forest-covered ridges climbed into the coast range, with all their tumbled ocean of tree tops turning golden olive in the sum- set. On his left the earth sank sharply down to meet the waters of the bay, while just before him, with a sheer drop of quite hundred feet, the head hung over the deep with it's granite chin brushed by the buffeting food It's whole face was solid rock; the forehead trcnched and furrowed like a giants muscle-lznotted breast, the cheeks rent and eroded by uncounted storms, while vast slab of stone hung pendant in the center like a nose, with others fall en endwise in the surf below, and lean ing against the wind-worn lips like shattered monoliths.
 From the crest the view was wide and beautiful, the sea spreading out its ever changing plain to the horizon; here, as the sky's moods came and went, Q silver track, there a field of violet and beyond it level emerald. In the far southwest a group of islands lay low in the sea, like blue monsters swimming outward, and beyond them
 fleet of lumber schooners was fading
 in the ofing. The boy drew long breath of weariness as he watched them. He could not help feeling how sweet it would seem to be sailing away from all the heart-breal<ing trouble that tore his own and other bosoms there on Beaver head.
 He was leaning against a tumble
 down wall which crossed the crown of the cliff a few rods from where it dropped off to meet the sea. Near by there was a gap in the wall, evidently once gate, and a little way back along the path an old stone house. A tall man could almost touch the caves, but it was wide and long, being divided into two low but rather roomy halves,
 while it's walls were thick, but cracked
 and matted with moss, through which two small, square windows peered out
 like sunllen eyes. About the yard were
 number of redwoods, massive and
 straight, with the sea winds purring
 among their branches and the sunshine yellowing on their tops.
 The house had been built, so tradi-
 tion said, years before by a weather beaten old tar named Beaver, who, strangely enough, deserted the sea for
 an Indian wife and this queer shelter on the head, only to forsale them in turn to take to the sea again. Then the seasons had flown on, and presently
 a village had sprung up about the inlet
 bay, with great sawmills at it's inner end, where a little river brought the logs down from the redwood forests. Here Trave Armor, the boys father,
 drifting westward through the pineries
 of Michigan and Wisconsin, and mak-
 ing now and then futile stand against
 Ir;Y1 nd -fIr h o1 tn work in the mills, but failing, through rum, drifted at last, with his ragged
 flock, into the old stone hut upon the
 head.
 8 Their progress had been pitiful
 enough, and Paul, the eldest of the five
 children, bearing it's scars upon his / body, and its infamy in his memory, o had felt, with every season as he pro- gressed toward manhood, a growing n sense of blight and degradation. He II knew whence his 1ameness came; that
 when he was child his father once 7 came home in a storm of drunkenness ,s and being pleaded with by the boy' ,s mother, splintered his flask of iquo1 % on the hearth in an ecstacy of rage and that he, a baby crawling round tht = grate, had Tapped at the liquid like { o lions cub licking greedily at blood, ant e that his father had caught him up in lt drunken fury and dashed him into tn ,' fire, from which he had come impini
 thus far on the road of life.
 v Often he had felt something like nor ~ :, tai hatred of his father lise within him and that day when he turned iron n watching the lumber schooners go dow y over the blue flood, and saw his mother S' worn with toll and faded with bite ~ care, bending over her washtub tha 1e her children might have bread, an an y ger rose in his heart that was almos le fit for taking human life. But whei H. his mother spoke to him in tender cheer S. ---- of DENIM NTCHTD