Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1904-12-30

---eg
! ~ UST as the clock struck the man
! II laid down his magazine with a
- sigh, and glanced at the time
piece on the table before him. Ten
O'Clock, and tomorrow was New
Years day-to-morrow, that would
end this lonely life of his and take
him home. Home to- the people who,
with the dear faith of ones own kin,
still believed in the genius he had
failed to prove to the rest of the
world His face frightened as he pic
tured his welcome there, and with
childish impulse to quicken to-mor-
rows coming he rose from his chair
and began his preparations for the
night.
AS he undressed his mind reverted
| to the story he had been reading
tale of a man whose family had
been cursed with hereditary blindness
and who had at last seized the cow
ards refuge rather than face the trag-
edy of his inheritance.
He shuddered slightly, for the story
had made its peculiar appeal to him.
| He, too, knew the sick horror of sucn
a heritage His grandfather and great
| grandfather had spent their last years
in darkness, and, although his own
father had escaped, he knew too many
victims of the caprice of atavism to
hold himself exempt
The chill air of the December night
struck his face as he opened his win
dow and he shook off his momentary
! depression as the little refrain, with
all it meant, sang once once more IN
his brain-"to-mor is New Years
day"
AT length he fell asleep, his eyes
resting ON the cheerful little point of
flame in the night-lamp which shone
through the open door of his dress
ing-roOm full on his pillow.
Outside, the wind in the valley was
blowing the clouds into a heavy pail
across the sky then rising suddenly in
a passion of destructiveness, it
snapped the trees beside the man
window with a crash that reused the
sleeper to sitting posture.
Gazing, unknowing, into the black
ness around him, with his first con-
eyes to brush away the veil Of sleep.
The action woke him to a sudden real
ization of the intense darkness before
him. Where was the light that always
met him from the faithful little night
lamp? Where was the gray out-Of-
doors that meant early morning?
Blackness, thick. impenetrable, closed
in on him. God. could it be that the
light still burned-but not for him
That the sun was rising-but to- him
it would always be night?
He slid from his bed and grope
his way to the window straining his
eyes vainly to perceive the slightest
outline in the fOrmless darkness.
Then terror gripped him close and its
panic babe him scream-hy-escape
from this fiend of night that had fold
ed him in her infinite embrace.
With one last effort at control he
reached for the familiar matchbox
and struck one of the tiny torches
that meant lifelong night or day to
him. He heard the scratch and snap
but not a spark of light rewarded his
agonized effort to see. The match
fell from his nerveless fingers and
the cold sweat of despair soaked his
night-clothes with its dank chill.
His whole future was silhouettej
before him, a black shadow against
the sunlight of the world His eye
sight gone, his career ruined, his great
book still unwritten-only life's empty
shell left to mock him. Tomorrow
would begin the drear, black process
sion of days, stretching like pall-bear-
ers to the grave Tomorrow, Oh
God! the irony of it-tomorrow was
the new year, An impotent sob rose
choking in his throat. Was this to be
his home coming like blind beg
gar, to be a burden where he had
hoped to help?
All his man S courage and fierce re-
sistance to Fate rose in him. He
would never yield to that. Rather
With his sudden energy his fingers
closed on one remaining match and
instinctively, with the vigor born of
desperation, he struck it along the
wall A quick blue flame sprang TO
life and showed the open door, the
extinguished lamp, the headless match
at his feet-objects so meaningless be-
fore, so fraught with the joy OF life
now
With a cry of relief the man sprang
to the gas-jet, and as the room was
flooded with the blessed light he sank
trembling to his knees, and the bells
of midnight sang in his ears. To-day
is the new year. The Wright Maya
zine.