The Yale expositor. (Yale, St. Clair County, Mich.) 1894-current, 1911-05-25

IL presume most people have; and in
my own case the uncharitable might say
something about sour grapes. That
wouldn't be true, thought; it wasn't
| until knew couldn't live that cared
much about it. And there is every rea-
son to suppose that. with the fear of
death removed, life would go back again
to the same old dreary round and be
more undesirable than ever"
She rose and fastened the bunch of
rhododendrons in her bet. do you
really mean TO say that you have no rea-
son for wanting to live? Would nobody
be sorry if you died?"
Thorndyke killed his opportunity
with one blow. "Yes. there may be
some who would be sorry; perhaps you
would care little. But that is entirely
"a different matter; I'm not good enough
to want TO live to oblige my friends. nor
bad enough to want to die to spite them.
Let's go and find the Pocket you were
| telling me about"
1t is an open question as to how liter
ally the most sincere person can afford
to be taken in conversation which
bears upon his own personality. Doubt
less Philip meant TO say what was in
him at the time; nevertheless, repent
ance came afterward, and with it more
good intentions. While Philip the SELF
estimated was as little like Philip the
real as might be, yet there was unde-
niably an accusing conscience which
the self-known Philip sought to muzzlc
with the fiction that the afternoon was
still young. Unfortunately, however,
opportunities for the saying of reluctant
things do not grow upon every bush,
even upon a sequestered mountain top,
and Philips conscience was still unap-
peased when, an hour beyo the rhodo-
dendron, they came out upon the rim
of a crater-like valley cutting a deep
cash in the mountain. 1t was elliptical
in shape, with wooded sides santing
down from the base of the cliff line to
a small corntield in the center; but there
was no sign of a house, nor of any road
leading down from the level of the
plateau. a clear stream gushing from
beneath fiat bowlder at the foot of the
southern slope splashcd riotously
through the length of the valley, to VAN
ish again into the mouth of a low
browed cave at the base of the northern
cliff.
The happy valley of Rasselas, with
the inhabitants left out" said Thorn
dyke. "Is this the Pockct?"
YES; the DEVILS Pocket, the noun
taineers call it,"
"Why 'devil's'?" asked Philip.
I'm sure l don't know; father says
it's because some people like to name
things after their patron saint"
That's u quaint idea; but the name
fits rather better in this case than it
usually does. There is always some
thing suggestive of the weird and un-
oanny in valley that has no visible out
let. How does the man who hoes that
corn ever get down to ito"
"Oh, there are several ways to get
down, though not very many people
know them"
II suppose you know some Of them;
can't we explore it?'
Il think we'd better not try; it's get
ting late, and"
"Who was that?' interrupted Thorn
dyke, pointing toward great bowlder
standing like a sentinel over the corn
field.
Il didn't see anybody" replied Elsie,
looking troubled.
But I'm sure l did; while you were
speaking caught a glimpse of man
standing in the shadow of that rock
just beyond the stream. lie looked like
another Rip Van Wrinkle" Philip
stopped and sent his memory back over
the last few days in search of something.
II know now" he went on; Il was sure
I'd seen him before. He was in the gar
den with your father one morning when
l came downstairs, and he ran away
when he saw me. Who is hep"
II can't tell you; it's his secret and my
fathers. ] shouldn't have brought you
here when l might have known you'd
ask questions. Will you forgive me and
promise you won't say anything about
| what you've SEEM"
THAT is very feminine-to ask for
giveness and exact promise ali in one
breath; but I'll overlook it this time
and promise to be as dumb us an oyster.
Only l wish you would tell me about
him; you've aroused my curiosity until
shant be able to sleep tonight"
Elsie shook her head doubtfully. 81
mustn't tell anybody; l should never
forgive myself if any harm came to him
through me-"
"But don't understand. hope You
don't think that I'd hurt any friend of
yours. On the contrary, I'd be glad to
help him, if he needs help"
"Oh, he does; he needs friends so
much! He's n poor, lonely old man.
and he's afraid of everybody; l can't
even make him understand that Mr..
Prothcroe wouldn't hurt him."
Whoever first pointed the sarcasm
which has resulted in turning proverb
upon feminine curiosity knew not
whereof he spalio. AS compared with
the greed for enlightenment which as
sails the masculine mind at the bare
scent of u mystery, the curiosity of
woman is but sedative. Philip was
no exception to the rule governing his
coy and tho othoS In Elsia's voica W. {