Los Angeles herald. [microfilm reel] (Los Angeles [Calif.]) 1900-1911, 1909-05-25
WRITES NARRATIVE
OF EARLY MORNING
FLIGHT IN DISGUISE
Last Hours in Silent House Spent in
Shaping Account of Domestic
Tragedy Into Fiction
Story

Mrs. Bessie Miller's story of her eX-
periences connected with the desertlon
of her husband form a remarkable
ARCHAEOLOGICAL narrative, recorded al
one of those moments of bitter intro
snection. out of which some of the
greatest works of fiction nave peen
wrought. In the main, the story iol'
lows the actual experiences OIL M .
Miller in her sensational flight, DIS
guised in male attire. The last words
we're written a few moments betore
midnight, before she began prepara-
tions to leave her wrecked home.
The story is not completed and is en-
hellished with incident woven INTO tne
Mot in the desire to make 1t a saleapie
fiction story. The narrative is as lol'
lows:
Babes Asleep
The babes were asleep at the time
lust how it happened or what IL was
ali about she was unable to remember
q fterward. The vision of his Wratf
and the effects of his violent temper
held her motionless. like horrlple
niohtnare. She stood in the wide light
ed hall with hands clasped, listening
with strained ears to his retreatlhe
footsteps, trying to realize what mao
occurred .,
The harsh click of the gate startled
her stunned Faculties mo an eiSu'N
sense of her helpless position.
He was gone! Gone, never to return;
and she was left penniless at the mercy
of an exacting landlord and claiming
creditors. She had never faced SIT
nation so appalling. Fear and terror
seized her and the impulse to follow
hum grew into a frenzy of haste.
Chasing a shadow of hope she ran
out into the darkness calling his name
in low, anguished accents. Her voice
sounded hollow and Intellectual. Neither
answer nor sound OF any KIND came
from the black hush of night. The
loneliness of the street and the dark"
ness sent her back to the shelter OF
the house. trembling with the fear
they had inspired The hands of the
clock pointed to 3. He would take the
$3.50 train west. And there? There
upon the table lay the notice from the
landlord with the threat of dispos-
session upon the morrow.
Her Mind Blank
She tried to steady her shaking
limbs. Her hands were like ice and II
was June in the city of the south. Cold
shivers chased up and down her spine
The chaos of thought, the fearful
ouaking of nerves and flesh shut out
any power to act. She did not reallze
how long she stood there, overpoW-
erred by the import of her helplessness.
gazing in mental darkness at any
unseen future The struggling emo
lions which at first sought to detain
him had been paralyzed by the fresh
sight of the dispossession papers, ana
the power of thought was held IN
check upon the very brink of the en-
quilting abyss. ShipWrecked in the
darkness of night, with no nope OF
succor upon the morrow! only a be-
wildering vision of how the tragedy
must end.
The restless f1utter of a pair of birds
under the caves of the house recalled
her stunned senses. Vaguely ralizinS
that she must act she CROPPED her way
through the pitiful wreck of her house
hold gods, her feet crunching the frag-
ments of bric-a- brac, and dropped upon
her knees beside the trundlebed.
Sees Husbands Clothes
How sweetly they slept! How per-
fectly untroubled and unheeding beside
the yawning chasm of the gray dawn!
How beautiful they We're! Two
Young, unfolded rosebuds, emanating
the fragrance and freshness of youth
and innocencel Their very helplessness
gave her strength. The whirl of time,
the necessity for Immediate action,
bore her above the tide of fear. She
sought only to be calm.
Strengthened by the divine majesty
of faith and prayer, she arose, in
spired with a new purpose. She would
find him; plead with him; plead for
shelter and food for her babies-and
his! Believing vaguely in the power of
thought transmission, she excluded all
things else from her mind and filled it
with hard wishing, you must come
back! You must! You must! o father
of my helpless babes! You must not
leave us like this!"
These thoughts kept time to her quick
movements as she took his remaining
clothes from their hooks and piled
them upon the floor. Selecting what
she could use, and deftly adjusting
them to her own person. she was soon
transformed into a neat hooking youth,
with his broad brimmed army hat
shading her face.
kissing each rosebud mouth once
more, she left them in Gods keeping
and slipped out into the night. Male
attire added courage to determination.