Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1893-04-25
The WITCH MAIDEN.
I had never loved.

From my earliest years had always
evinced q pronounced aversion for the
"petticoat interest" as Kenelm Chilling
ly so facetiously dubs that sneaking re-
gard for feminine charms. l took pride
in my defensive attitude and plumed my
self on every possible occasion with my
stoical invulnerableness and scornfuI i'll.
differeniism toward the blind god of the
quiy, ;.
And since had just attained to the
sminently sensible age of thirty ! fam
cied-aye, felt positive-that might be
pronounced "out of danger" so to speak,
and that need no longer fear the art
fulHess Of the weaker sex.
The gay and reckless period of youth
from eighteen to twenty-eight-I had
passed quietly and happily, having ex-
perienced none Of the ''pangs Of disprized
love nor the infinite C) bliss Of an affec-
ton returned"
To insure my safety had not lived
the life of recluse and refused all con-
course with the adorable fair. On the
contrary, had first made a study of the
sex, and in order to do this effectually
and successfully must needs mingle
with them, lavishly fatter them, hypo-
critically worship at the shrines Of
beauty and a meager intelligence, rush
the fashionable functions, talk society
chitchat until l felt driveling idiocy
creeping on, and live in such epicurean
style that I finally fell sore victim to
indigestion.
Verify, this butterfly life ia not what
it's cracked up to be, soliloquized land
so, without further ado or ceremony, !
dropped out of the madding crowd and
sought the level of commonplace.
All, these social easiest What hollow
mockeries, what monumental lies!
The social waters glisten with clean,
sparkling surface; there are beautiful,
clear cut waves that fash thousand
binding lights; the white pillows roll on
in magnifcence of state, and the view to
one standing on the hot, burning sands
is one of awe and grandeur unrivaled
But when one leaps into those tempt
ing deeps, lured into them perhaps by
the siren voice of some false Lorelei-
what delusion! Ach, Himmel! 1t is
all mud and weeds beneath. The cur
rents are cold, and they are the currents
of public opinion and conventionality.
Huge monsters clasp us in the death grip
of their savage tentacles, and these we
call avarice, jealousy, hypocrisy, ambi-
ton and vainglory, each with its thou
sands of fiendish allies. All, it is mis-
cradle specter-this social apparition!
Occasionally one comes upon coral
cave, rich in its purity and stainless
beauty, and one wonders how such a
marvel can exist in all this ugly filth and
loathsome decay.
All honor be to him who seeks to drain
away the dregs of social sins and brings
sweet wholesomeness to unhealthful
lifel But, we gods! what q herculean
task, what chimerical fanaticism, holy
though it bel
Wearied and disgusted with the hor
rible sham, I quit its Shiny deeps to lay
myself down upon the sun bathed shores
of simplicity and unworldliness.
Some said had been disappointed in
love. |, scoffer at the grand passion
as the eternal enemy of marriage! But
what cared for the senseless babble OF
the worll-I was no longer of it. lived
in the quiet of my own thoughts-nature
my only mistress.
At thirty l was a bachelor and-s
cynic, though by no means a misan'
thrope. took life luxuriously and com
placently. College days had come and
gone. had wandered aimlessly about
meath blue Italian skies, amused myself
for time in q German university and
had now, in response to an unconquer
able longing, returned to my native
cline, here to suffer the one calamity oi
my otherwise TRANQUILITY happy existence
Had bat known to what fate my steps
were leading me! Could the impenetrablt
veil of the future but have been drawn
aside and the vision Of that impending
gloom been for a moment visible! All
what misery spared, what heartache
what intolerable bitterness!'
By one Of those strange, inexplicablt
/ impulses SO common to US all, l wal
urged to the scene of early youth. Thu
it was that in the beautifully picturesque
and popular summer resort known al
c., on the shores Of Lake Michigan,
found myself one glorious day in June
one of those rare, heavenly days in that
dear month of roses.
The old place had undergone decid
edly revolutionary metamorphosis since
I had ceased to call it home. The lazy
dreamy atmosphere of the village had
been quickened into more vigorous ac
ton. Old landmarks had disappeared
with the influx of wealth. Old customs
had been superseded by new flights Of
fashion, and old faces had been crowded
out by the new.
In mood of morbid retrospection
had been winding my way through the
tortuous paths of H park, musne
upon the had beens and the might have
beens. A haunt in the city of the dead
had been favorite one with me in thu
old days, and unconsciously found my
steps directing me along the familiar
walk. An ideal silent land 1t Is. Som
Der, yet intensely soothing, 1t seems al
ways to speak word of good cheer Il
the living and bid us fear not the scyth'