St. Landry democrat. (Opelousas, La.) 1878-1894, 1893-03-04
LED BY FATE.

10 directly across the Helu over the
hill yonder and you will strike the Dun
das highway" said the conductor, has
tily, in reply to the genteman's inquiry.
The gentleman addressed stood for
while watching the receding train, and
then set out as directed. He reached a
narrow, dusty road and turned westward,
casting his eyes over the country as he
walked.
No rain had fallen for weeks and the
dust lay in deep drifts along the high
way, and the withered grass by the side
of the road had taken on a pale, sickly
hue. From time to time an eddying
gust of wind carried clouds of powdered
earth across the fields and into the faces
of the passers-by.
The same desolate region. only grown
worse with age" muttered the stranger.
''It was an insane impulse that prompted
me to leave my desk and seek the God
forsaken country. must have been led
on by fate"
With manifest discomfort written upon
his grave features he pursued his rumina-
tions. Finally he halted and hcsitated
NACtACL liC hlN AoG DCtLSl 1StldSC LIE
steps and signal the next train to Dun
das.
For some time he stood evidently ab.
sorbed in bitter recollections. 'Thcre is
the old tree from which Uncle Zcke tore
many switch to beat me-" he muttered,
land it has grown large and thrifty.
There is the old house where spent an
unhappy childhood. The fields where ]
drove the oxen still lie waiting for the
pillow, and wonder what slave now holds
the handles for the old tyrant. l have
returned to the home of my boyhood, yet
feel no sentiments but those of bitter
ness. Uncle Zeke must be either dead
or broken with age by this time, but
owe him nothing. The scars I wear on
my shoulders make me almost hate him,
even now. Yeti have come here"
He sat down by the roadside and
pressed his head between his hands and
unused. And as he unused there rose be-
fore him one kind face, the only face
that ever inspired his boyish mind with
reverence. 1t was the face Of young
girl, Uncle Zehe's bound girl, Millie. 1t
was she who used to sympathize with
him in his affection; it was she who used
to caress his smarting wounds and pro-
cure healing ointments, and now as he
sat, the face of this poor girl, more friend
less in her youth than himself, seemed to
smile upon him as of yore. Her voice
rcsounded again in his cars, Gliding him
for his bitter resentment and urging him
to forgive his uncle's harshness.
After be became a prosperous man in
great city he sometimes wished that he
might learn of her whereabouts, and, if
necessary. render pecuniary assistance,
but the letters which he wrote and
torn up, and til! ~fplH 5ys On second thought
definitely. IN
SO the years ran by and he forgot his
good intentions altogether, but this hot
summers day, against bis incl nations,
with feelings of revulsion at his sur
roundings, he sits and gazes across the
fields which many years before his
weary feet have trodden.
Even the thought that Mile might
still reside in the old farmhouse did not
lead him to rise and hurry forward. On
the other hand, he was about to turn
back toward the railroad when the sud
den shrek of "a locomotive and a flying
train more than half mile distant told
him that his delay bad decided other
wise. Again he muttcrcd: II must have
been led by fate.'
He rose and pursued his way until he
came in front of an old, dingy farmhouse
which stood back Ii tie distance from
the road. The dwelling and the out
houses in the rear looked bare and for
saken. He pushed open the rickety
gate and followed the wagon track to
the side entrance of the house.
As he was about to knock upon the
door he caught the loud. complaining
voice of an old man. There was no
mistaking those hoarse, rasping tones.
''Thcn Uncle Zeke is still alive" thought
the stranger, as he dropped his suspended
knuckles against the warped panels of
the door and waited for an answer. But
NO answer came. Again he knocked,
but there was no response. "Well,
Uncle Zeke, | guess you have not grown
sociable with age" muttered the gentle
man, as, with look of determination on
his face, he dealt the door vigorous
blow.
This time a savage voice growled:
"Come in!'' and he pushed open the
door. In the middle Of the room sat the
bent form of an old man, about as de-
crepit and broken in appearance as the
incidentals of his environments.
The old man raised his head, from
which the hair hung in white snarls over
his ears, and darted fierce lock from a
pair of bloodshot eyes upon his visitor.
"Uncle Zeke. I guess you have forgot
ten me-" said the stranger.
The old man tottered to his feet. II
am no uncle of yours, you puppyl Who
are you?"
The gentleman flushed angrily. 81
I'M sorry to confess the relationship, I
I'M sure" said he, "but my name is
Adolph Griffis.'
The old mans eyes blazed more fright
FULLY than ever, and he shook from head
% foot. $50 We ran away because |
"haled ye when We deserved it, did We?
Right in the busy season, too, and lot
If hay got spoilt. Oh, We scoundrel
I've not forgotten ye, and if ye were only
lnder me agin I'd whale ye within an
nch of yer life. Ye comes back now
With yer fine clothes and yer pocket as
imply as an old boot; but yen have bad
lines here. No, SIR" he roared; yell |
never get cent-not cent?"
He fell back into his chair, and there |
anne into his weakened face malicious