Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1913-08-02
CONTINUED from Yesterday

| NCoutihuc" rum AcbtcFuays)
There are few indeed who do not
recall the tragedy with which in the
! public mind the estate is connected.
The fact however, that this old
homestead has been left in its pres
ent state (for, as is well-known, the
house has remained with all its con-
! tents and furnishings untouched) to
rest during so long a term of years
unoccupied could not, OF course, fail
to be commented on, and this cir
cumstance alone has perhaps tended
to keep alive melancholy story
which may well be forgotten"
He read the elaborate, rather stilted
phraseology in the twenty year-old
paper with wondering interest.
AN old house" he unused, with a
bad name Proba bly, he couldn't sell
it, and maybe nobody would ever live
in 1t. That would explain why it re-
manned so long unoccupied-why
there are no records of rentals.
Probably the land was starved and
run down At any rate, in twenty
years 1t would be overgrown with
stu bble."
Yet. whatever their condition. acres
OF land were. after all. tangible
thing This lawyers firm might. in
stead. have sent him bundle of
beautifully engraved certificates Of
stock in some zinc mine whose
imaginary bottom had dropped out
ten years ago Here was real prom
erty. In size. at least gentleman's
domain, on which real taxes had been
paid during long tern-a sort of
hilarious consolation prize, hurting
to him ont of the void like the magic
gift of the traditional fairy god
mother
TITS an offset to the hall-bedroom
idea. at any rate" he said to himself
humorouslY. 1T holds out an ESCAPE
from the noble army of rent-pavers.
When my twenty eight hundred is
gone. ] could live down there a
landed proprietor and bv the same
mark an honorary colonel. and raise
the cabbages I was talking about
eh. Chum while YOU stalk rabbits
How does that strike you?'
He laughed whimsically. He. John
Valiant. New York. first -niehter at
the theatres. hail fellow well-met in
its club corridors and welcome diner
at anv of hundred brilliant ella S.
and-silver twinllling supper tables,
entomhed on the wreck of a virgin
plantation. a would-be country gem
tleman. on an automobile and next
to nothing a veari
He bethought himself of the fallen
letter and possessed himselr OF it
quickly. 1t lay with the superscrip-
ton side down. On it was written
in the same hand which had adj
dressed the other envelopes:
For my son John Valiant
When he reaches the age of rs.
That then, had been written by his
father-and he had died nearly TWEEN
- - L Il. w.,f&I l.
a strange feeling as If, walking in
some familiar thoroughfare, he had
stumbled on a lichened and sunken
tombstone.
When you read this, my son, you
will have come to mans estate. 1t
is curious to think that this black,
black ink may be faded to gray ana
this white, white paper yellowed just
from lying waiting so long. But
strangest of all is to think that you
yourself whose brown head hardly
tops this desk will be as tall q
hope) as /. How / wonder what you
will look like then! And shall I
the real real |, | mean-be peering
over your strong broad shoulder as
you read? Who knows? Wise men
have dreamed such thing possible
and | am not bit wise.
John, you will not have forgotten
that you are a Valiant. But you are
also Virsinian. VIII you have dis
covered this for yourself? Here is
the deed to the land where / and my
father and his father, and many
more Valiants before them were
born. Some time, perhaps, you will
know why you are John Valiant, of
New York, instead of John Valiant,
of Damory Court. | cannot tell you
myself, because it is too true story,
and | have forgotten to tell any but
fairy tales, where everything hap
pens right, where the prince marries
the beautiful princess and they live
happily together ever after.
You may never care to live at
Damory Court. Maybe the life you
will know so well by the time you
read this will have welded you to
itself. If so, well and good Then
leave the old place to your SON But
there is such thing as racial habit
and the call of blood. And l know
there is such thing, too, as fate
Every man carries his fate on a
rib and about his neck so that
Moslem put it. 1t was my fate to go
away, and / know now-since dis
lance is not made by miles alone
that myself shall never see Damory
Court again. But life is a strange
wheel that goes round and round
and comes back to the same point
again and again. And it may be your
fate to go back. Then, perhaps. You
will cry (but oh. not on the old white
bears skin rug-never again with me
holding your small. small handy
Wishing House! Wishing Housed
Where are you?
"And this old parchment deed will
answer
Here / am, Master; here | ami
"Ah, we are only children, after
all, playing out our plays. i have
had many toys, but o John, John!