The Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899, 1893-02-24
LIFE Is NOT WHAT WE MAKE 1T,
OR MYSTIC TALE OF THE WILLAMETTE


| Written by B. S. Martin, Corvallis, Oregon.1
| Itwas one of those starry nights when there
is no moon and every star OF the heavens
| seems to be trying to out dazzle its neighbor.
| The road that had been travelling for sew
eral hours had come to an abrupt angle in the
edge of u wood, about three quarters Of a
| mile from the Willamette river and a few
miles north of the town Of Harrisburg.
There just to my right saw man.
He seemed absorbed in deep thought, for
when accosted him in the usual way, he did
not at first make a reply. Soon he turned
his sightless eyes upon me, his octogenarian
form shivering in the chilly night.
Finally he said, 'come with me-" And
half from feeling of curiosity knew not
what, followed.
Down through bramble and over logs he
went with astonishing swiftness.
Then coming to small opening, I saw on
the farther side, a small cabin, almost hidden
by the leaves and debris Of years Of accum-
ulation,
On an old table in one corner Of tho main
room, sat tallow candle, partially lighting
up its dingy walls of smoke and years.
at is midnight the hour"
| What? 1 began to say, but he waved
back the words with gesture of his trem-
bling hands.
Then opening the door of the adjoining
room, "lookr' he said.
The stagnant air passing out, struck me in
the face, almost strangling. Strange phos-
phorf.scent light pervaded the room, and
towards the farther end of the narrow room.
1 saw, shall never forget sight that chilled
nv blood in its veins.
Seated on a chair was girl apparentlysyet
in her teens. Her gaze was averted, I could
not see her eyes. On her lap, half sitting
halflying, was a boy apparently about her
own age. His pale face was thrown back
over her left shoulder. In her right hand
the girl grasped the handle of knife, the
blade buried deep in the boys body, just be-
low the left shoulder. There was groan,
no wall, 10 sound, except the gurgling Of the
| blood as it poured from the wound, down
over the dress Of the girl to the floor.
| And on the floor as the reflection of some
| weird light, shown the date, Decem Der 9th
/ 1913.
| As drew back from the door: SAW the
picture of young girl hanging on the wall,
| dimmcd by smoke and years. The dress was
ofthe style offorty years ago. The features
were bold, but true; the eyes were large aud
piercing. Eyes that must be obeyed, though
susceptible of loving in the extreme, lut
hatred, ah! hatred, revenge when wrongcd
far, far beyond contemplation.
''That picture; that is her picturc,'' he ex.
/ claimed. On December twenty yes
on December twenty seventh, eighteen and
forty eight, at midnight my daughter COM
mitted this deed, and for over forty -four years
precisely at midnight they reappear. l can
no longer see, but still can hear the CUR
Cling OF the blood.
"Well it is past midnight and you will not
60 until daylight"
| No, said, my walk has made me tired
and will stay until daylight if you will tell
me what all this means.
For moment the bent form stood motion
less, then from the expression Of his features
| I knew that a storm of passion Was ragin G
! within. Then q wave Of sadness passed over
his face, he seemed to be collecting his
thoughts. At last he stared about him, as if
| trying to see, with those sightless orbs, some
one, or some scene that had long, long ago
made its indelible impression upon his mind.
"Tell my secret, break my vow? Yes,
stranger, when you first spoke to me to-nigl t.
| l knew that you were sent to learn my secret.
| o! vowed to never tell, but it is not meant
| for mo to keep it. l am old, the grave is cpen-
ing before me; soon this heart that has been
beating for eighty-two years, will cease and
all will be over. But, before I go, must
tall my secret that vowed over fourty-four
years ago to keep until death should close
these lips, but know not what has decreed
that it must not be. For more than fourty-
four years have been lost to the world; only
a few, very few know that exist. And
since have been deprived Of sight, the
neighbors have kept me supplied with the
necessaries Of life by putting them where l
can find them; knowing thatI wish to be
alone, they avoid meetings.
I was once happy man, and as a boy
| we'll, there never was a boy that carried a
lighter heart. As I grew up, nothing OBJ
structed my pathway-all was pleasure and
sunshine. At nineteen married Miss Debo
rsh L. B, in our native land, Ithaca,
New York. We had known each other all
our lives; we had grown up to love each
other, TO feel that We lived for one another;
Though what great difference there was be-
tween us, as much as there is between day
and night. She was tall and graceful, not a
plant, but tree; though not proud and
naughty, but commanding and stately, pure,
beautiful, and queen among women. And
| those eyesI cannot describe them-they
| were like those of her daughters.
We scarce had been married two years,
and our child was but three months old
when death closed those eyes; those wonder.
full eyes. o! can never forget that mo.
ment, when in the thraldom Of death she
fixed her gaze upon me, beseeching me evel
to care for our child. For days was almos
crazed with grief; 1 had no heart for any
thing, could not sleep, could not eat
there was no rest; tryed to work, it was il
| ysin: would stop in the midst of task, an(