The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1892-03-19
"GO TO THE MILLS. :"

1t was a dangerous SITUATION, and not
altogether as pleasant as it might have
been. But the salary was larger than
could obtain in any other place just
then, and this. to man with an invalid
mother and little sister to support,
was no mean object. Besides hoped at
no very distant day to have home of
my own, presided over by the girl of my
choice-beautiful Marion Ware. This
dream of happiness in the future made
me better contented with my life. 1
was willing to work for competence
that she would share with me.
We were to be married in November,
and as the time drew near an intense de-
sire seized me to escape from the mo-
mentous, dangerous existence l led In
the mills. A few weeks would make no
difference to my employers, I thought,
and so when I gave my notice to leave
I gave it for the 18th Of September in
stead of November, as I had first in
tended.
Ny employers were very sorry to part
with me, and they offered to raise my
salary, but l had decided and was not
to be turned from my decision. The last
day of my stay passed quietly enough,
and at night I left the dark buildings
behind me with thrill of relief.
That was happy evening. Marion
had been spending the afternoon with
my mother, and / had walked home
with her, and it was near midnight when
1 got home. Soon after I fell asleep,
but my rest was troubled. I supposed I
must have besn dreaming, but it seemed
a vivid reality to me then.
| was standing in the thick forest
which surrounded the works, at the
very point where the path to the village
diverged and led it over the hill and
through the field to the mills. It was in
a wild, dreary path, for it was necessary
that the mills should be removed as far
from any human habitataon as possible,
and there was no more fitting spot than
the 'syalley Of despair" for miles around.
There was a struggle in my. mind; l
thought 1 could not decide which path to
take-the one leading into the distant
village or the old accustomed one to the
mills. While I was sitting heard
voice, clear, solemn and strong, that
seemed to come from the ends of the
earth, and it said:
$50 to the mills! Your work is not
yet finished"
/ awoke. The moon was shining
coldly in at tho window, the great aims
Of the elrns moved slowly to and fro in
the night wind, and lonely cricket
chirped in the wainscot. l lay down
again, thinking Of little but my dream,
save to rejoice it was only a dream, and
shortly after fell asleep.
Again was that vision repeated with
singular minuteness, circumstance for
circumstance, and again / awoke. I
thought it extremely remarkable that
should dream twice on the same matter,
but explained it to myself that I had
been thinking SO much of my departure
from the mills. It was a coincidence,
nothing more, said, and turning over
soon lost my consciousness.
For the third time that haunted dream
visited me, and this repetition was
almost frightfully vivid. Everything
about it bore so strongly the semblance
of reality that I started up covered with
cold perspiration.
The moon had gone down, the dawn
was breaking IN the east cold and gray.
I am not superstitious, and will confess
that an involuntary shudder swept over
me when I recollected what l had
passed. I tried to shake off the spell
that was on my spirit, but in vain; it
was as if 1 had walked world lost to all
humanity forever.
Irose, and dressing myself went down
to work in the garden. was restless
and uneasy, laboring under conscious
ness of some duty unfulhlled.
At last put down my hoe and went
into the house. 1 put on my mill clothes
and sought my mother. She looked up
in surprise as I said:
Mother, I am going to the mills"
Indeed! l had hoped you were done
going there, Edward. Yesterday was
the 18th, was it not??''
Eyes; but feel obliged to go today.
NV work is not yet done; it will be fin
ished soon, think"
kissed her and went out. At the
door Of the grinding mill met Mr.. Nor
ton, the senior proprietor. He grasped
my hand eagerly.
s'Ah, Green, glad to see you! What's
this hear about your leaving us? Lin
coin was speaking about it last night.
Why, we couldn't part with you at all. +"
81 did give notice to leave last night,
and intended yesterday for my last day
in tho mill; but circumstances have de-
cided me to remain some time longer-a
month, perhaps"
"Right; only you must set no time"
seThank you; will think of it," l
said, and went on with my duties as
usual.
Everything went quietly on in it's &C
customed routine. I began to smile at
the absurdity Of my last nights vision.
81 had eaten too much supper; stald
cut too long whispering soft nothings to
Marion" said to myself.
Toward night party of visitors ar
rived. Such things were frequent,
Newark was somewhat of a summer
resort for city people, and sojourn
-, visit,