The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1895-08-14
A MORAVIAN BRIDE.


zephyrs, and the tumultous ocean, seem
ingly entranoed, rests from its labors and
lovingly laps the shore.
In one of the broad channels between
the thousand rocky isles which grid the
main large brig lay becalmedr Her sails
hung idly from the yellow yards, and the
helmsman NO longer maintained pretense
OF directing her.
In the vessels waist the captain, a
bachelor of 40 years, promenade back and
forth with young woman, who lightly
rested a gloyed hand on his arm
$50 you have never seen his photo
graphp" he asked.
mo; not even that" she answered alb
sently.
You know no more of him than merely
this: That he is yet in his novitiate, acting
as keeper of the mission store; that he is
"a and wants wife and is willing to &C.
cept the bishops choice. Yet you come
across the sea to share his lot; to sacrifice
your inclinations and desires; to bury
yourself for life in this wild land
"a sacrifice it may be, SIR '' she said
'How great I Gid not feel when we set
sail'
A wave of hope and passionate longing
AOOQOu ULC uGdIe. IL SllOlO lTOll
his clear brown eyes as he turned to face
her.
cit is too great sacrifice, " he said, with
warmth. 'Ths pity of it, and there is one
would give''-
drew her hand.
is the bishops will. He holds my promise
do 1,ofo al,x n 4
then all it meant to me, but had time
for thought and was not urged. 1t is my
duty and my work in life"
THE sense of such a duty is absurd''-
"No, no'' she broke in hurriedly
eYou are a valued servant of our church.
Your Christian duty is to help me-
"My duty as mani
But she disappeared within the compan-
ion way, and, vexed, he turned inpatient
ly to the lounging helmsman, severely re-
calling him to his neglected post.
In the solitude of her cabin she flung
herself upon the cushioned locker, the cap
tain's words still ringing in her ears. He
loved her! OF that she felt assured And
She But, mol She must not, dare not
think of that.
Could it be mistaken sense of dutyP
She was The daughter of missionaries gen.
Grafton upon generation, and following in
the very footsteps her mother traced score
of years before. Although she had lived at
home but till the age of z, she remembered
as though it were but yesterday the story
of her mothers early life, as she herself
had told it, and narrowly the girl compar-
ed that life with what her own had been,
seeking to find some jot of difference.
She knew the harmony of her parents
lives, each kind and thoughtful of the 9TH
er's veal, their only sorrow the parting
from their child, and this they both agreed
was wise and best. How else could chill
dren of the wilderness be fitted for useful
livesf 1t was rule dictated by the church,
to which they owed obedience as saliva
tons price.
These mission born children were edu-
Gated by the church in the belief that duty
to it was paramount THE wishes of its
clergy were commands, the bishops will
an edict from on high. The boys were
trained to I'LL their fathers places, the girls
to make the missionaries wives, the men
to take what wives the church bestowed,
the women to marry without choice such
husbands as the bishop might award.
And that the church had wisdom on it's
side was proved by the universal happiness
to which those thus united testified.
And yet she could not reconcile herself.
Her innate modesty revolted at the gross
idea of surrendering to perfect strangers
will. How could she fail to hate him, to
despise this man, who, without one spark
from the flaming altar of true love, would
willingly forfeit all noble sentiments of
mind and heart and selfshly debase him
self and her pure young womanhood?
And she herself would make this union
possible!
An overpowering loathing Of herself
possessed her with the thought, a terror she
strove vainly to control, and the pent up
torrent of her dread burst forth, sweeping
her away upon it's turbulent waves in
paroxysms of despairing tears.
An atmosphere of feverish expectancy
pervaded the usually quiet surroundings
of The Post. People were hastily gather
ing from all quarters upon the little
mound beside the church. The oil depot
and factory were deserted, and the wolfish
dogs might pass the unguarded door and
drink their fill from the uncovered watts of
OIL
The missionary's tidy children jostled
With che crowd OF natives unnOG1ced by
their nurse. The baker and brewer stood
on the mission house porch, putting vigor-
ously at his long Dutch pipe, while his lit
tie frau beside him conversed excitedly
with the gardener S wife, who leaned from
an open lattice.
A rising hum of eager voices came from
the hillock, where the throng of dusky
Eskimos was steadily increasing, and every
eye was strained upon the entrance to the
little bay.
The cause of this unusual agitation had
been signal gunshot from the hill, fred
by the sentry stationed there to keep a
lookout for the long expected ship. 1t was
to bring them news from DER the sea- the
history Of the great worlds doings for a
year-letters from relatives and friends,
presents and messages, supplies and
stores, their first intelligence for long
IL months. What wonder, then, that they
looked forward, anxiously counting the
months and weeks and days and hours,
until the time the vessel might arrive.
And one there was to whom it brought
bride. He was the youngest white man at
the post. He had her picture, brought
through winter SHOWS and stormy twi-
1ir.I4 yhr