Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1905-03-17

cream come back upon me at that mo-
ment and | almost expected to see the
req snake with his glittering eyes with
ing round some leafy branch. But [
reached the ground in safety, without
ehcountering any object, fanciful or real
In less than three minutes more / was
IN the high road, vagabond, a homeless
1utcast, but a free man. All my worldly
possessions were the suit of clothes
wore, and my wedding suit and a change
OF linen that carried tied up in hum
die. 1t was a bright moonlight night
| cast one farewell glance upon the only
home | had ever known and wall ed
swiftly onward.
made towards Bury. passed Lit
tie Bethlehem, and thought, with shud-
der, Of my marriage day. Then / en-
tered the town, and took the street that
led me past the old Abbey ruins. / had
never seen them since that October
night. ! stopped at the old Norman gate
way, and peered into it's shadows, almost
expecting to encounter the sweet, pale
face again. But all was silent and
deserted-not a soul was in sight.
Whittier was | going2 l was going to
Martha. l had carefully preserved her
note. / knew she would give me a shell
/ ter until l could obtain some kind of
employment, When l reached the next
town ] would sell the bundle of clothes.
and the money would provide me with
food and lodging on the way l had no
! conception of the road, but ! resolved
that | would take the one down which
| had seen her disappear. She said that
she understood that to be the right one.
! would follow in her steps
| The day was just dawning when l
came upon a large, Old-fashioned village.
Unused to violent exercise, and exhaust
ed for want of food, for / had eaten
nothing since dinner time the day before,
my steps began to flag. l looked round
some place to rest; there was no sign
of life in any of the houses-all seemed
buried in sleep. / walked slowly on
until came to a little swing gate, which
led to the village church-an ancient
looking building, embossed in trees
Here, | thought, is a quiet spot where
can rest a little while. l opened the
gate. and passed through.
1t was a pretty, quiet spot l could
NOT have found a better for an hours
rest. There was a heavy dew upon the
long grass, so | stretched myself upon
high, fat tombstone. and placed my bun
die beneath my head. / was very weary,
and in spite of the cold air of the dawn.
that made me SILVER, fell fast asleep,
with the twittering of the waking birds
sounding in my ears
When l awoke the sun was shining
brightly, and the birds were in full song.
For a moment l could not comprehend
my position. / sat up and looked round,
but my doubts were only of a second.
Thea / knet down against my stone
bed and offered up a Thanksgiving for
my deliverance, and a fervent prayer
for my future safety.
When rose from my knees l became
conscious that 1 was not alone. Seated
upon a tomb a little distance from me,
and attentiyely watching me, was an
old gentleman dressed like a respeeta-
bic farmer
Good morning, young man." he said.
in CHEEKY voice; you've had rather
cold bed, I'm thinking | suppose you've
been travelling all night?
Yes, sir" / answered ''From Bury"
why, that isn't more than ten miles
You should have had a little more sleep
in your bed my lad and have started
about this time. Enough to give YOU
your death of cold to lie out here and go
to sleep in the dew. You don't look
very strong, either. Wherever you're
going, you won't get on now till you've
had bit of breakfast"
| colOred up at the mention of break
fast ! had not a farthing of money.
and until | could dispose of the CON
tents of my bundle, l could not procure
mouthful. l thanked him, took M INV
bundle, wished him good morning and
turned to go.
Stop. stop come here a minute" he
called out
l advanced few steps nearer to him.
He scrutinized me more carefully than
ever, with the expression of man who
was about to make a proposition of
doubtful prudence
Here, here! you shall come and break |
fast with me-" he said, after a minutes
pause. Il like the look Of you, and l |
don't think you're a tramp"
thanked him very much for his kind |
ness, which, under the circumstances. / |
certainly had not strength of mind
enough to decline. We left the church |
yard and proceeded down a lovely green
lane canopied with trees
Il always rise at fve," said the old |
gentleman, as we walked along: land |
unless it is very bad weather take a |
walk as far as the churchyard. It's |
been my custom for many years. and. / |
suppose, will continue to be so until some
morning / am carried there, never to |
come back again. Nothing like exercise.
however, and the early morning air.
to delay that little event: but not sleep- |
ing on tombstones," he added. with a
laugh.
After about ten minutes walk we
stopped before a dor in a high garden
wall, which my conductor opened with
key, and facing us at the end of a gar
den path was the nrettiest cnttnnn I 80