Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1894-09-08
CHAPTER III.
AFTER TEN YEARS, IBEGTN LIFE N EARN.

Est.
The prologue over, the drama of my life
begins. There is always a prologue of some
sort In which the keynote of life IS generally
struck for good or evil, pleasure or pain.
Mine is the episode of Little Madeline. Much
Of the spirit of what has been told will sur
vive in the events which | am now about TO
naITate.
Madeline Graham faded at once and for
ever ont Of ms boyish existence. 1 neither
saw nor heard from her directly; but some
months after her arrival In her distant home,
there arrived a wonderful parcel, full of dried
fruits. nuts, and other foreign edibles, adj
dressed, in the hand | knew, to Master
Hugh Trelawney," at MINISTER'S. My school,
mates laughed wildly on its arrival. | tore
1t open, expecting TO find some message in
writing. showing me that | was not forgot
ten. There was not a line. With a some
what heavy heart. | distributed the more
fesf~rhEAa fS4tspysE94up observation-disclosures
no heart 10 eat. | stored up many of the nuts
IN my trunk. till they We're quite moldy and
rotten. When | was Obliged 10 throw them
away, | seemed 10 east away AZ the same mo-
ment all my hope of seeing my dear little
love again.
No other meSsage-no other gift-ever
came; though wrote, In my roand, boyish
hand, a little letter OF thanks and kind
wishes. All grew silent. Little Madeline
might be lying in her grave, far over the
lonely waters, for aught | knew to the con
trary.
/ remained at MINISTER'S until | was four
teen. In all these years | never forgot Made
1g,a vn,.,r 10000. .. ,....tf. l,, 49,, a,,..
night when | prayed by my bedside, never
reiinquished the thought Of some day sailing
across the ocean and looking on the dear
bright face again.
This intense and solitary passion became,
II | may SO express ii, the secret strength OF
my life. 1t frightened the coarse and indi-
gent experience of school life. filed il with
tender and mysterious meanings and assoc<a-
tions; it made me inquiring and tender, in-
stead of hard and mean; It determined my
tastes In favor of beauty, and made me rever-
ence true womanhood wherever | saw il. Tn
a word. il gave my too commonplace expert
ence Just the ~coloring of romance il needed,
and made the dry reality of life blossom with
simple poetry, in a dim religious light from
far away.
What wonder, then, II, at fourteen, l found
myself reading imaginative books and writ
ing verses-of which early compositions. be
certain, Madeline was the chief and never
wearying theme.
had taken tolerable advantage of Num-
ster's tuition, and was suflicientlyweil ground
ell In the details OF an ordinary English edu-
cation | had, moreover, n scattering OF
Latin, which, in my after struggle for subsist-
ence. turned out very useful. l should have
progressed still further under the care of my
.schoolmaster, but at this period my father
died, and l found myself east upon the
world.
1t is not my purpose-it is unnecessary-tO
enlarge on my wi private history, and l
shall touch upon It merely in so far as 1t af-
fects the strange incidents In which l after
ward became an actor. Things were at this
point when | one morning received the start
ling intelligence that my father was dead,
and that l was left alone In all the world.
The first feeling which the news produced In
was one of very confused and ubiou
sorrow. OF late years. l had seen very little
of my father. Since | had come to MINISTER'S
l had been left there, never even going home
for my holidays as other boys did. MINISTER'S
was my home, and 10 all !ntents and pur-
poses Mr.. and Mrs. Munster were a father
and mother to me. Still, for all that, the
that | had a father In some re-
mote quarter OF the globe, who paid for my
maintenance. and CANE to MINISTER'S about
once in six or eight months 70 spend an hour
with me. had been a source of s0ine satisiac-
ton, and caused me now, for a short time ut
least, 10 deplore his loss.
nhar a.,,a ofbar and mara acmpfieataA
thoughts. II had no longer a father to pay
Cor my maintenance. what was 10 become OF
me: for. as far as 1 knew. l had no other
relason in the world? Puzzled ~ these
thoughts, and seeing no solution to them, l
could do nothing but wait In eagerness and
dread for what was to follow.
The next morning, when | was dressing,
Mrs. Munster came into my bedroom, and
handed me a jacket with a Grape band on
the left arm; she also pointed to a cap which
she had brought In with her, and said:
you must wear this one now, Hugh"
Then she turned, bent her kindly eyes up
u, m-, anu kissed my forehead and murmnr-
ell. my poor boy"
l yentured to inquire whether l was 10 see
my poor father in his coffin or to follow MN
to the grave. The tears came into the wo-
mans eyes, and she took my hand.
You Will never see him again" she said;
s'neyer. He died in America, and was buried
before we receiyed'the news. But you are q
brave boy" she added, land must not grieye.
1t Is sad for you. my dear; but rouble Is sure
to come sooner or later. III II comes when
one Is young, SO much the better, for one Is
better able to bear IT,"
Mrs. Munster" l said, ~piteously, 'what
u To become OF mew:f'
The good lady shook her head