Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1908-02-18
Such men as he break through re
i,t IU;lI hao

though day was relinquishing its pow
er ere night was ready to assume con-
troll.
Streaks Of blue had appeared among
the clouds; they had broadened, deep
ened, and finally let the sunshine
through as the god Of day hung, for
moment, on the western horizon before
giving Jahnway Park to the night, the
tomb Of the dead d-and-gone Jahnways
to the shadows, and Jasper Jahnway-
to his future-to whatever he might be
so fortunate or unfortunate as to find.
Jasper Jahnway drew long breath
Of relief as the sunshine fell along the
table where he had vainly tried to read
and petulantly pretended to write. He
opened the window. He stepped Out
upon the wet lawn. Fate-guided, he
was going for the strange letter. though
he knew it not Let us follow him.
Winter was surely near at hand. His
breath was in the air. Withered leaves
were scattered all about the grass
Natures mute confession Of the power
Of Death. But Jasper Jahnway rejoic-
ed in his freedom: what were death
and decay and cold to him? Had he
not the sky above? Had he not the
fresh soil beneath his feet? The sun
shine had fallen upon him only a mo-
ment since; after that, what was night
to him?
He turned toward the ocean. Books
and pictures and ease were giving up
their slight hold upon him-their pow
er over his heart and brain. Child OF
Nature, he was reaching out for the
love which had been his for so much
of his life.
The white crested waves showed
dimly through the gathering darkness,
seeming to salute him as they ran
thunderingly up the distant beach. He
smiled. There was heart in his smile.
Out there, hundreds and hundreds OF
miles away and many years ago, he had
had his one brief dream Of love, bright
and sweet and swift, on an island
Jahnway Park. Out yonder, in anoth-
er direction, other hundreds Of miles
away, he had drifted for many days
and nights on q narrow plank, scorched
under a burning sun by day, chilled
under a pallid moon by night. mad with
hunger. frenzied with thirst until he
was so weak that he could not put his
hand up to clasp those Of the men who
rescued him. nor command his voice 10
speak the thanks he felt
Pain? Yes. Pain from the memory
of his dream Of love, for he was lone
Iy now. and always would be; but love
is worth having lived, though one must
turn to memory only for the good II
gives-worth having lived, though one
may fail to live it for ever.
Pain? Certainly. Pain from ship
wreck and danger and famine; but the
Joy Of escape had made ample amends
for all that. And so far as the future
was concerned, Jasper Jahnway was
too young, yet, to have lost that in
stinctive-felt faith Of the young heart
(higher than the reason which insists
that death Is a future actuality and an
ever-present possibility that for him
tides would turn, ships sail over strange
routes, refreshing rains fall, clouds
temper the sunshine, and the Omnipo-
tent Hand of God himself be stretched
out to insure him safety and life and
strength, whatever others might find
waiting for them; too young to have
given up that way of looking at things
and thinking of them which is the out
ward expression of almost a hope (can
call it that?) Of a personal physical
immortality-a reminder Of the days
when humanity was not doomed to die
"a token of the time when the soul
shall stand beyond the world in which
there are graves, in a world where
death shall never enter All men,
young and old, say, II must die" The
man is beginning to grow old who de-
liberately says, when strong and vigor-
Gus, Il may die today or tomorrow.
Jasper Jahnway had nothing Of the
sort to say to himself; he never had
had. To him, the old life meant the old
dangers and the old hardships, Ii
meant the old joys, too, and the same
certainty Of escape which the past had
worked out for him. Older men are
wiser ones.
He turned his face oceanward, and
he cried passionately, while he stretch
ed his hands yearningly toward it.
Il love it; 1 love it; it has brought
me more of happiness, more Of the
good which elevates and improves, than
such a narrow life as this can ever do;
I love it: love it,"
Then he walked musingly and slowly
down to the very end of his estate. He
could no longer see his house. The
ocean was not in sight. and its voice
came to him in a muffied tone. Tall
trees were all about him. On one side
Of the narrow path in which he stood
ran noisy brook, babbling the gossip
of the breezy hills where it was born,
and clamoring for the sea. On the 9TH
er side rose a rocky hill, so steep and
stony that 1t almost merited being call
ed a perpendicular ledge.
Then Jahnway had paused and looked
about him. 1t was dark. But never
before had the place seemed so pleas
ant to him. His mood was a strange
one: the surroundings suited it.
He tossed a stone into the stream
He laughed to see the shower Of water
which sprung up where it fell. He
threw another, larger and a heavier
one. and shouted with almost the glee
of a child at the commotion it made.
There had not been so pleased an eX-
preston upon his face for many long
hours: it was gOod-So good-to have
something to do again, though it were
needless and useless.
He stopped for the third time: a
bundle of closely written sheets of pa
per had been twisted into a knot
thrown close beside it. and forced into
the soil by heavy heel.
Jahnway took the letter home. He