Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1891-09-17

you the money that led you int,
evil. Forgive
News Of the death found Jack il
the midst Of a game of poker. ii,
had been drinking heavily; his won
derful eyes were luminous; his ruff
fed hair lay like a wreath of goli
about his brow.
Dead he whispered hoarsely
as dealt the cards, sand all the mon.
ey will be mine, mine.'
But the reading Of the viii
proved the uselessness Of his hopes.
She had left every cent of o vast es.
tate to . convent, and the codicil
revoked sths msin parpors Of ths
bestowment to this slight degree
TO my nephew, John Stewart Lane,
Leave the white silk handkerchief,
embroidered with a golden L., for
on it fell my bitter tears, to think
that / had given him the key to
hell
Jack Lane took the handker-
chief and put it in his pocket. He
left Kentucky soon after and went
West.
Let us drink, gentlemen
With great formality Richard
Richards passed round the cups,
and then resumed the tale.
1T was some years after that I
met him again in Nebraska. He
had been engaged to lay out some
swamp lands; he and his men were
hard at work. He looked sick, dis
couraged; he hated the work, and
the air of the swamps was under
mining his constitution. He was
gambling heavily, too, in the ad-
joining town, and the lamp of life
was burning rapidly. He had the
same hearty handshake, the same
blue eyes, and wreatking hair.
Writing anv p
fSome,' he said; cant help it.
4 invited him to come to my Of
feel was running the CAanticleer
then-and told him to bring some
manuscript with him.
He o1me one night with manu-
= HI lo6i = I eot dowxr4
sThe student lamp rained down
q gentle radiance upon us. He be-
gan to read his story in a voice ro-
sonant with pathos and softening
tenderness, and as he proceeded ]
saw in the curling smoke Of my Gig
ar the transient characters of the
witch of the Swamps.
ga dream first he explained,
when he had finished reading; "a
dream that haunted me; | saw the
figure coming toward me, down
through the tarns and pools; there
was seaweed bound about her, and
like a banner waved q filmy silk
above her head spangled with a gold
en- letters, and tears like brilliants
showered about her, and above all
rose the purple denseness of the
swamps, and languid and low in the
sky hung Dian mocking me-
Il took the story and payed him
double what I could afford, and not
an atom of what it was really worth,
for it surpassed any Poe had ever
written for witchery or sweetness.
He threw up the survey scheme
then and used the money to carry
him East.
Years passed. 1t was in New
Mexico that / next saw Jack Lane.
In the town of Patzcudaro, named
by the old kings of Tzintzunzan, and
meaning a place of pleasure. He
was sitting on stone bench near a
fountain, bordering the plaza; q
glorious-eyed Mexican maid was BY
his side, a pale blue serape thrown
about her head.
Her hair rivaled any night / ever
saw for blackness; it was like a
storm at sea, alive in its fury of
gloom and grandeur. Her skin was
of olive tint, her mouth was the
borrowed bow of Cupid, her figure
q Galatea.
The expression of content upon
Jacks face was new to me. He
was smoking, as usual; the girl was
speaking to him in Spanish, her
words chording softly, rythmically
with the night air that came straight
from the stars, with dewy golden
weight of dreamlike languor.