The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1893-05-19
ANGLo-AMERlcAN VENDETTA.
Handed Down for Several Generations, It
Has the Usual Termination.

Has the Usual Termination.
The prologue is the Kings Bench
prison. The time is 1890 or thGfe-
abouts. 1t is summer evening. In
one of the cheapest rooms man of
about 40 lies dying. The foul air, pri-
vation, disappointment and imprison-
ment have killed him. BY his bedside
sits his wife weeping. There also stand
two boys, aged fifteen and thirteen,
awed and silent
'Take them away, Lucy" says the
dying man. 81 shall be gone before
morning. Take them out of this
accursed country. Take them to Amer
lea. Teach them to hate England.
Teach them to remember the man who
sent me here and kept me here to die
like rat Teach them to take revenge
upon his children and his grandchil-
dren."
In this fine Christian spirit the inn
prisoned debtor departed this world,
and now lies buried in the churchyard
of st. Georges, Southwark, under the
windows of the Marshalsea and close
to the body of Bishop Bonner.
| A hundred years later his great
grandson, the first of the line who has
ever got on, for bad luck was in the
blood, has made some money. and has
come over to see the old country, His
grandfather, the boy Of Is, never for
got the deathbed scene and his fathers
last words. He would fain have crossed
the water himself to execute that re-
venge. But circumstances were too
strong for him. He invented revenges
which he could not carry out. He i'm.
agined himself hunting down his ene-
my, pursuing his enemy's children. But
he could never muster up money enough
oleave the little town where he worked.
| And so he died unrevenged. His son
inherited the vendetta, together with
the papers connected with the case.
But with him the desire for revenge had
become a feeble passion. Perhaps he
would have done bad turn to his
grandfather's enemies if it had involved
no trouble. But like his father, he
could never afford to leave his native
town. So he in turn died. And still
that great injury remained unavenged.
Then the great-grandson inherited
the papers and the duty of revenge.
But by this time the desire for ven-
geance had dwindled down to very
mild emotion indeed. This great-grand-
son, however. broke the family record
of ill-luck. He became a lawyer and
an orator. and made enough money
while still a young man to make visit
to the old country. OF course he was
an American through and through, and
he regarded Great Britain with mixed
feelings of contempt and envy. This
latter he did not acknowledge, but it
was there. The contempt he avowed.
We have house of lords, you see-all
profigate; and church rolling in
riches. 1t was at this time that made
his acquaintance. He told me about
the cherished and hereditary vendetta.
I asked him what he proposed to do
when he found out the descendants of
his forefather's enemy. He laughed.
He said that he didn't know what he
could do. but he should like to find
them out If he could. He spoke vaguely
of coming fight
saw him no more for six months,
when met him walking along Picca-
dilly. He was not alone. There was
with him young woman, and there
was a something in his manner, He
greeted me with friendliness when he
laughed. II told you all about the ven-
delta, didn't II" he said. Terrible
thing having family vendetta, isn't itP
Well, settled our old vendetta did
exactly what had been taught to do
l hunted them down. followed them
up. found them out. And this is one
of my enemies Let me introduce you
to Miss Florence-I call her Florrie.
And have taken the most awful-the
most terrible-the most earthquaking,
epoch-making, shuddering, ghastly re-
venge you ever heard of. For I've made
the enemy's only great-granddaughter
promise to marry me!"-London Queen.