Year: 1870




On fresh summer morning, before break fast
hour, at the country house where he was visiting
young man ut out in a small row boat on to the
bosom of New York Bay, just then rppling and
dimpling at the rosy touch of dawn
| Oliver Grey was an artist by profession; fine.
| looking person-twenty-fiv perhaps--with dark,
restless eyes, q broad forehead and swarthy skin.
At this moment his mood was one of fierce discon-
tent. Being artist he poor-being poor he
| could not have what he wanted. What he desired
most o earth was the heart and hand of Camilla
Catherwood, sister of his friend George Gather.
wood, at whose fathers house he was staying hav-
ing been invited to spend portion of the summer
at 1.-THE Poplars,' to take his and sketch the
beautiful scenery of the bay. he had accepted this
hospitality even while he felt humiliated by it
not 30 much to escape his garret as to bask In the
dangerous joy of Camilla's presence. This morning
be came out to SKETCH but he only dreamed of her,
until half-wild at tbough's OF his own poverty,
Urged by this disconted mood he fell to rowing
vigorously for relief finding himself close in
to the high shores of certain island, and near to
familiar spot to which George and himself frequent
ly came


In the face of the rocky bluff there was an ocean
cave very small cave which the fishermen and
other common people ignomuiously dubbed hole.
1t may have been larger once; but at this time il.
was filled, nearly to the mouth with deep sea sand
In high water 1t was covered entirely by the waves
But at low tide small boat could push its way In
and as 1t afforded a cool shelter from the summer
sun, the two friends often cast anchor there for an
hour or so, while they ate their luncheon, or
sketched the opposite hills.


The tide then. at its EXTREMIST ebb left the FAR
ther end of tho cavern quite bare and dry. 1t was
the first time that the visitor had found it so lie
was thinking OF running his boat aground and
getting ont, although there seemed to be nothing
more interesting than clam-sheIls strewn about
when, suddenly, something sparkled in the level
sun.rays His eyes drawn to the glimmering
point. What was iH He looked again more
earnestly. 1t was the end of brass bound wooden
chest, protruding from the sand. The glttering of
brass nail had drawn his attention to the object


The color rushed into Oliver Grey's moody face
He thought of Captain Kid, OF shipwrecked ner-
chantmen, ana Arabian Nights all in one flash of
his vivid imagination.


Then he laughed at himself, pushing his nut
shell of skf close to this buried chest and leap
ing lightly out.


cat least 1 will see what 1t is. The dirty gar
ments of some poor sailors kit. suppose"


With his he went to work to dig away the
sand. 1t was hard work. and the perspiration soon
stood his forehead; but he had brought to light
enough of the quaint, foreign-looking box to show
that 1t was no common sailors chest.


1t of strips Of some costly oriental woods, in
dark and light. very solid and heavy, banded to-
gether to be almost covered with brass-fssten
ings. In half an hour he had uncovered the whole
lid The box proved to be about four feet long, by
two wide, and two deep.


At first he despaired of opening the chest without
further implement for he hard wood was well pre-
served ard the clasps scarcely rusted. 1t had evil
IDENTIFY been buried in dry sand-not exposed to the
action of water, or moisture, to any great
extent. With the blade of stout knife. which the
artist carried with him for of various kinds on
his little expeditions, he succeeded after few
minutes III pushing back the simple, od-fashioned
lock- which sprang out of its place with click.
Then, for moment, Oliver hestated.


AS soon as he could command himself he eau
tiousIy aad eagerly raised the lid.


What did he fiud?


corpse-which looked as If 1t might have been
placed there yesterday perfect was its preserva
tion-jammed down into this impromptu coffin, SO
much too short for 1t. 1t was that of noble and
handsome man, not many years older than him.
SELF whose Jet black hair fell down in long ringets
about the velvet collar and ru1led shrt-ront. The
dress was that of 1900. BEFORE when rich gentle
men yet nduged in velvet and thread lace. In the
forehead was a deep wound, as of e hatchet. and
there were blood stains over The garment. Who
could the murdered stranger be?


All! while he asked himself the question-while
he gazed with lips apart and concentrated looks of
interest and dread-a change crept the INN ate
of the chest The grayish hue Ieepened over the
face the features sunk, FELL the yellow lace rues,
the silken vesments faded out of color out of
shape-faded away. The iueaments dissolved as
if they had been the dream of nervous surprise,
this slight impulse, aiding the action OF the atmos-
phere, completed the ruin. Tho corpse and its
clothing dropped to the bottom of the chest, little
more than handful of dry dustl


Oliver Grey gazed bankly at the blankness.


A sauU- a handful Of b3nes-Sonse ashes


Never in his life had anything occurred which
gave him SO strange and dreadful sensation as
when he saw that vivid figure moulder into moth
ingness b fore him. He felt almost guilty to think
he had raised the lid, and thus destroyed this
blance of the man who had been. He now wished
that his friend George had been with him to have
seen what he saw, and to corroborate, by further
testimony the strange story he should have to tell


He almost expected that the tale would be ridiculed
as ono OF his many ardent dreams. Yet there was
the chest. They could not gainsay that. And there
were the bones and the dim outline of the figure,
the skull with its chastity fracture, telling its mute
story of crime-and-


What was that?


Something gowed and glimmered Hike coal al
the bottom of the chestl


Again he poor artists pulse drummed in his cars
while every atom of blood in his body seemed rush
ing TO and fro in the widest confusion.


After little hesitation, he reached down with his
broaf-hlaed palette knife, and gingerly and daint
lily, with n His of reluctance running through his
| cagerncss ished up the burning coal, and blew
J from it the ashes CT the dead.


| The coal was a large ruby. 1t was without sett
| ing but had been cut and polished by jeweler.
was as red as fire, and lucid sunshine. Olive
rubbed it with his handkerchief, opened his almos
empty purse, and dropped the jewel within for saf
keeping. Then he examined the chest farther
There were more gems glimmering and quiverinl
like live things amid that human dust.
| twas not long until the young man forgot to b.
too particular The palette knife was no longe
swift and certain enough. With his trembling fin
gers he pushed about the poor bones, finding plent
of treasure now; and there, right under where tn
heart must have been, small gold locket. Witt
something of awe and reverence overcoming tn
greed which had taken possession of him, he opene
! the case


| A woman's likeness, young and sweet smiled ou
upon him. as brightly II it h ad not lain in tina
dark prison house for fifty years. Tears came int
divers sharp eyes as he met the laughing glanc
of the soft blue eyes shining beneath the ripples
| yellow hair. But those tears dried in the e1
| ultation of his new possessions.


| When certain that the chest had yielded the las
of Its Jewels he emphed them into his han kerchief
and tried to compute their value. The horror o
his first impressions gave way to triumph.


The treasure was his own by right of discovery
There was no clue to the name of their long-perish
ed owner. lie would keep the gems; and he woul
say no hing, even to George, of his adventure.


Thinking thus he again looked at the miniature
and this time observed name, formed by settin


of briliants around the inside of the case, in Ge,


man text-ETHEIDA


An oid.fsshioned English name. Oliver did nc


reflect that tbs poeE cousin Of Camilla, depGndes