The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hidden Cabin, by David W. Edwards This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: The Hidden Cabin a pathetic story in condensed form Author: David W. Edwards Release Date: August 8, 2021 [eBook #66008] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIDDEN CABIN *** THE HIDDEN CABIN THE HIDDEN CABIN A PATHETIC STORY IN CONDENSED FORM BY DAVID W. EDWARDS AUTHOR OF “BILLY BIRDSALL,” “UP THE GRADE,” ETC. COVER DESIGN, ZOLA AND ZIMBO BY DRURY VICTOR HAIGHT LOS ANGELES COMMERCIAL PRINTING HOUSE PUBLISHERS 1909 COPYRIGHT, 1909 BY DAVID W. EDWARDS ALL RIGHTS RESERVED THE STORY. The Legend of Palomar. The Hidden Cabin. Cedric Vaughn. Homer Lee. Dora Lee. Lola Vail. The Voyage. The Mines. Ben Rubideaux. The Wedding. The Mystic Token. The Stolen Child. The Wanderers. In The Mountains. “Peg Leg, The Miner.” Gilbert. Zola And Zimbo. The Midnight Ride. Gilbert’s Journey. Conclusion. AUTHOR’S NOTE Palomar Mountain is one of the grandest natural attractions of Southern California. It is more than a mile in height. From its lofty “look-outs” the beautiful bay of San Diego may be descried, and also the distant islands of Santa Catalina and San Clemente. It abounds with gushing springs, richly timbered table-lands, deep, rocky canyons, and rugged peaks. It is one of the favorite resorts of the writer, who has spent many pleasant hours in camp near the mysterious hidden cabin above the “snow white clouds,” in company with his friend, the Rev. John L. Pitner, D. D., to whom these lines are inscribed. D. W. E. BIMINI SPRINGS LOS ANGELES, CAL. PALOMAR. A mile above the ocean’s level brim Tow’rs Palomar, the monarch of the range. Along its western base are frostless hills With verdure crowned, and valleys green, where bloom And fruitage fill the air with sweet perfume. Green pastures, rich with herbage and bright flowers, Bedeck the eastern slopes which fall away A lone and weary desert land to meet; To meet a lone and weary desert land— A rich and rocky land where mines of wealth Have slumbered long beneath its arid wastes. So stands in majesty this mountain grand Between the desert and the western sea. From ocean’s heaving breast, she upward sent A humid vapor, in the skies to meet And woo the softer breezes that ascend From off the heated earth at eventide. A gentle zephyr was at play among The cacti beds and yuccas tall, that lift Their spiny leaves and tufted fronds above The burning sands; she softly breathed a sigh, And floating upward in the milky way She met and wed the vapor from the sea; For each had found a true affinity. The moon withdrew and hid her face behind The distant isles; and from the blushing east A ray of sunlight came and kissed the bride. Together in the skies, these twain have wrought A mantle, soft as down, of spotless white; And often as the evening twilight falls, Or dewy morning sheds her purple tints, They come and spread it over Palomar. Thus runs the legend which has oft been told; And which the Indian maiden whispers low When snow white clouds hang over Palomar. THE HIDDEN CABIN. {11} {12} The rugged sides of Palomar are deep With canyons cleft, where raging floods have made Their downward path and held their course unchained. Beyond the eagle’s nest and rocky crag, Where giant arborvitaes throw their plumes Athwart the sky; and crystal waters cold And pure, come sparkling from a mountain spring; By bending boughs and tangled vines shut out From view, the hidden cabin stood; and there Today it stands, and there has stood unkept, In mystery wrapped, a hundred years or more Since its last tenant left it there alone. It stands where it was builded long ago; Yet not the same as in the days of old, For long disuse and winters’ storms and rain Have left their mark; but still enough remains To show that in the hands of him who built No joiner’s tools were held; divested of All metals with sharp edge save only axe And auger, which he plied with master hand To hew the timbers smooth, and cut and fit The doors and frames; and fitting, through these sent The auger’s teeth to clear the way for pins Of wood with which he made all fast and strong. A strange, pathetic story centers round This lonely spot; the story of a true And faithful soul who counted life best spent By those who strive to crucify the flesh, And emulate—as best poor mortal may— The life of Him who lived and died for love; For love of those who loved and hated Him. CEDRIC VAUGHN. Classmates were Cedric Vaughn and Homer Lee. Cedric from the southland came, and in his Veins there flowed—tho’ mixed with Anglo-Saxon— A trace of Montezuma blood, the same As that of those who met with sharpened steel The hosts of Cortez on the bloody plains Of Otumba. In the lightsome morning Of his happy youth, he saw that twain who Gave him life and love, with all his kindred, By savage hands struck down! struck down and flung Amid the blazing ruins of their home. With superhuman strength he stood beside His father ’till he fell; and then fought on Like wounded tiger, grimly courting death. Filled with pagan superstition, that wild Robber chief—when he saw brave Cedric’s blade Cleave skull and flesh, and break like slender reeds The spears of those who came upon him three To one—thought him protected by the gods And made immune to blows of mortal hands; Stricken with fear lest in revengeful wrath They turn on him, fell on his spear and died. Then the others fled and Cedric’s life was Spared. He, wand’ring aimless o’er the waste Scarce knowing where his footsteps led, came where Terraced hills sloped to a narrow harbor. He knew the place and knew his father had {13} {14} {15} He knew the place and knew his father had Been well known there and much respected for Fair dealing, when in trade he bought and sold; Not many days before, they together Had come down this dusty trail and returned With family stores. Sadly he walked on, his Poor heart bleeding at remembrance of those Happy hours now gone, when suddenly he Came upon the spot where they had rested By a spring and led their horses down; Here lay the branch his father’s hand had used To urge the horses on; and half trodden In the mold, and scattered round, the paper Which he had seen his mother’s loving hands Wrap ’round the food prepared by her for them. Now, for the first, he realized his loss. Upon the cold, damp bosom of the earth He laid his head and wept—alone! Beneath The bending skies and sighing boughs; no loving Hand upon his brow; no ear to hear the Groans that shook his iron frame; nor knew he How near in that dark hour the heart of Him Who suffered in the garden all alone Was bending down to his. The soul may weep And still the flesh demand its own: Too proud To eat the bread of charity, he sought And found employment in the mines. He worked With heavy heart, crushed for a time by dark Despair; and giving way to hunger for Revenge, he well-nigh fell; but when at last A kindly light broke thro’ the gloom of his Black night of grief, and he could say, “Thy will Be done”; in him awoke new life and hope And high resolve to make of his own life A memorial to them; and to strive To reach the measure of their highest hope. To this end he hoarded all his earnings, And with the salvage from the wreck of their Estate, went bravely forth, determined to Fulfill their wish so oft expres’d that he Might go away to school—they named the school— The greatest in the northland, whence they hoped To see him come one day with cultured mind. HOMER LEE. {16} {17} Homer Lee was born and reared upon the Sacred ground where beacon lights were kindl’d On the hills, before the war that broke the Chains of monarchy and set this nation Free. His father owned ships and lands and Merchandise; and the son—the eldest born— Had never known a wish ungratified. Albeit, he was not puffed up, or vain, Or churlish by over-much indulgence, For he was nurtured in the Quaker faith, And early taught to draw the line ’twixt Right and wrong; and measure men by what They are and not by what they have or say. Unlike in all respects were Cedric Vaughn And Homer Lee, save in those noble traits Of character which make men strong and brave And true. Homer, lighter built and younger, But noted for his prowess—when he met The tall, dark, princely stranger from the south, As by the power of some magnetic chain Was strangely drawn to him. Touched by the kind Demeanor of this fair-haired, happy youth, Cedric’s heart went out to him. So, as the Years went by, between them grew a friendship Strong as that of Pythias and his friend. DORA LEE. Homer’s sister, Dora Lee, rejoiced at Their success, or wept when disappointment Crossed their path. Likewise, she shared in all their Happy leisure hours, when sailing on the Bay, or riding horseback o’er the hills. And When their united strength their pennant saved, The campus rang with shouts of victory And plaudits for the heroes of the day, She wept for joy. Dora Lee loved Cedric, But he knew it not nor dreamed that she whose Faithful heart could never love but one, Had consecrated that one love to him. Their college days were drawing to a close; And nearer came the day when these two friends Must each go out to meet the sterner life— The one to fill the place prepared for him; The other, empty handed and alone. Their intercourse—to each a priceless boon— Had ne’er been marred by shadow of distrust. A diamond careless thrown upon the sand, May change the gentle current of a stream. And so it chanced the even current of Their fellowship was broken. LOLA VAIL. Lola Vail,— Her father, a rich planter, owned a vast Estate upon the banks of that great stream Which gathers up the waters of the land And sweeps them onward to the gulf. Half way {18} {19} To that strange southern land whence Cedric came Was Lola born—a schoolmate, friend and guest Of Dora Lee, and much like her; or as she Would appear with three more years of summers’ Sun to paint with ruddier glow the bloom of Health upon her cheek, and tint with deeper Gold her ample braids; in purity of Thought and loyalty, they also were alike. Lola’s mother died when she was young, and Her father, bringing home a Creole wife, Unwittingly neglected her; and thought His duty done when he provided for The child a nurse—an aged Octoroon— A pious soul, who gave to Lola all The love she knew in her sweet childhood life; And filled the tender mind with holy thoughts And pure. And Lola daily gathered flowers And, weeping, laid them on her mother’s grave. When she was older grown, her father took Her to the north, she and her faithful nurse, To bide until she grew to womanhood. Her education finished, her father Called her home, but she begged to tarry, yet A few more days and visit with her friend. Thus it chanced to come about that Cedric Vaughn and Homer Lee met sweet Lola Vail And loved her, each in his own way—Cedric, With all the fervor of his sincere soul— And Homer worship’d her, forgetting for The time his own betrothed. Cedric told her All, she sitting by his side in shady Bower, upon a wooded isle, their boat drawn Up below upon the pebbly beach. He Told the story of his life, as one a Painful duty would perform. “She must know The truth.” And keeping nothing back, he told Her of his birth and lineage—which was Equal to her own—his loss of home and Wealth; his lofty aspirations; high hopes Now partly realized, though penniless; But he was going back to that same land Where he had delved; and there would he employ The knowledge gained of placer, drift and ledge, And engineering, to locate and bring Forth rich treasure from the earth, and in a Few short years would he return with wealth and Build a costly home for her in some great City,—she might name the place. “Could she love Him? Would she wait for him?” She answered not By spoken word, but when she lifted her Fond eyes to his, he read the sweet response. By his strong arms encircled tenderly, Her head upon his breast, she wept for joy; And speaking through her tears: “Oh, leave me not, But let me share your lot whate’er it be— A palace or a cot—I would leave all The world, my Cedric, dear, and go with thee.” But Cedric kindly told her of the place, Its roughness, the peons there; and frankly, But perhaps unwise, he spoke of dangers From the wild bandits. It was no place for One so sweet and gentle as his own dear Lola; it were better she obey her {20} {21} {22} Father’s call. That day, a week, the ship that He expected her to take, would leave that Port. It would not be long; he would stop there On his way and see her father, speak to Him, as man to man should speak, all fair and honorable. The wisdom of his speech She saw and cheerful yielded to his will. With fervid kiss their pledges sealed, they sat In sweet converse till lengthening shadows called; Then spread their sail and shoreward set the prow Of their light craft. With rosy finger tips She swept the strings of her guitar and sang: “What fairy-like music steals over the sea, Entrancing the senses with calm melody? ’Tis the voice of the mermaid as she floats o’er the main, And mingles her notes with the gondolier’s strain.” Homer and his sister, waiting at the Mooring, by their merry laughter and love Glances, half concealed, each read their secret; And reading, saw the fading shadows of Their hope. Each concealed the pang; and laughing, Teased the truants for their tardiness. Then Timidly the lovers made confession. “And we will pray,” said Homer, “that to you Be given the fullness of all earthly Joy, and then the sweetest bliss of heaven.” Lola left them; and the three in silence Watched her waving from the deck; and saw the Good ship fading in the offing vanish, Where bending skies come down to meet the sea; Then sadly turned away—each heart, wounded By a shaft from Cupid’s bow; arrows from His quiver, unaimed, ofttimes fly amiss. Too high born and proud were Dora Lee And Homer to harbor in their minds dark Jealousies, or thoughts unkind; but Homer Was disconsolate; and Dora, cheering, Said: “You surely will forget your grief; and Going back to your first love will marry Her and love her evermore; for no true Heart can ever love but one.” So it was Her prophecy came true. Dora loved with Woman’s constancy; and womanlike found Comfort in the secret hope (while wishing Naught but good for Lola Vail), the idle hope That she one day would marry Cedric Vaughn. If in the spirit world departed ones Can see with joy a loved one plodding on, And faithful to the end, achieve at last The worthy object sought, then there was joy Above when Cedric led the class and gained The highest meed of praise for work well done. Cedric saw, or tho’t he saw, a shorter Way to competence than any of the Kindly offers of a place which, without His asking, came to him; a great law firm Wanted him; a professorship in that Same college he could have; in the counting House and busy marts of commerce there were Many op’nings for one as he so well {23} {24} {25} Many op’nings for one as he so well Endowed and popular. He declined them All; and yet so gracefully, with thanks, that They were urged upon him all the more; but He had fixed his mind on going back, see Lola on his way, then hasten on to Carry out his plans; for each hour improved Would bring them nearer to their wedding day. On the morn of his departure, a throng Of gay young friends came, bearing tokens of Their friendship, souvenirs of college days, And bidding him God-speed upon his way. He keenly felt the sting of parting with His friends; but when he came to say good-bye To Homer, that was hardest of it all. When Dora gave the parting hand, and in Her large blue eyes he saw the gathering Tears, that tell-tale look of love she fain would Hide; that yearning look of hopeless love Like arrow pierced his soul with deep regret, And haunted him thro’ all the coming years. THE VOYAGE. With varying winds the good ship sailed thro’ Summer sea. At times translucent clouds were Flung across its way like twilight mists, and Then anon the sun burst forth. With lowering Winds and listless sail they drifted dreamily Beneath the turquoise skies. When at night the Mellow moonlight made its path across the Waves, Cedric paced the deck impatiently; And in his restless dreams he saw the face And form of Lola; felt her soft breath on His cheek, her arms entwined about his neck In heavenly bliss. At some port discharging Freightage, the ship would often linger for A day, and those on board would wander thro’ The town. Once they saw a vessel that plied Between that southern coast and Africa Unload its cargo—human souls, who had Been stolen from their home and brought to this Free country to be sold to servitude. The buyers, richly dressed and bedecked with Diamonds, stood like drovers waiting at the Cattle pens to buy. One gentleman with Pistol at his belt, true type of southern Cavalier, took a mother from her child; Cedric pled with him to buy the baby Too. He was answered by an insult, and Derided for his pity for “the brat.” Unmindful of the insult to himself, He persevered and gained consent to buy The child and place it in its mother’s arms. Off the south-most coast they saw the isle, The magic isle of Bimini, where the Indian sages told De Leon he Would find the fountain of eternal youth. Thence onward thro’ the gulf, and near that quaint Old Crescent City, he found his darling Lola. Near the city in a lovely {26} {27} Lola. Near the city in a lovely Urban villa on the rich plantation Of her father, where the oleanders Bloom, and palmettos wave their fronded plumes, They met once more. Her father, Colonel Vail, Was absent; would return in one week more. Six days, six blissful days, from early morn Till eve, the lovers wandered ’mid the scenes To her, so rich in hallowed memories. Sitting by her mother’s grave, she told him How unlike the days of old she found her Home. Her father, with advancing age and Growing wealth, had changed; become more like the One who filled her mother’s place, purse-proud and Haughty. He had hinted at a union That he desired for her, and she feared he Would not look with favor on her Cedric. Like as the vine twines with the sturdy oak And clings the stronger when the north wind blows, So she, as moved by some foreboding, clung To him, and begged that she might go with him To that far land; and coaxingly she said: “Who will spread the table for my Cedric? Or smooth his pillow? Or if mishap befall, Nurse him back to health? If he goes alone, I ne’er shall look upon his face again.” He kissed away her tears and playfully Made light of her misgiving; yet he was Sorely tempted, and well-nigh gave way to His desire; but that high sense of honor, And solicitude for her, gave him the Mastery over self. And from that hour He never knew a thought of selfishness. He soothed her fears; and by words of wisdom, (As before) soon brought her judgment into Sweet accord with his. But it was agreed That if her father answered his request With scorn, or treated him unkindly, there Would be no angry words. That he would go And never ask again. When he returned, Would take her as his rightful own; and then He held her to his breast, and laid upon Her lips what they both well knew might be his Farewell kiss. For even then they saw her Father’s carriage coming up the drive. When They met and she presented her betrothed, Cedric recognized the man who bought the Slave and would have torn the infant from its Mother’s breast. Yet, speaking calmly, told him Who he was, whence and why he came; told all Manfully; and the Colonel heard him thro’. Then, with derisive laugh, he taunted him For his presumption: “A pauper, begging For a queen! Nay, nay! The one who gains my Daughter’s hand must have a bank account or Property in land or slaves.” The hot blood Rushing to his brow, he boldly answered: “I go, accepting these conditions, but Surely will return.” Then, taking Lola’s Hand, said cheerfully: “’Till then, good-bye.” With Tearless eyes she proudly looked upon her Cedric, and stood as strong and brave as he. {28} {29} {30} THE MINES. When Cedric reached that country where precious Metals and bright gems, by nature’s cunning Hand are tucked away and hidden in the Rocks or scattered in the sands, he found a Dusky peon—Jose Morales—whom he Had known and trusted, and took him with his Train of donkeys packed with stores; with miner’s Pick and spade and crucible, he bravely Plunged into the wilderness. For many Long and weary days he sought among the Dry Lomitas, sought in vain beneath a Tropic sun, lured on by prospects that proved Valueless. And when at last he found a Vein of quartz that sparkled with the golden Grains, he was compelled to leave it there, to Wait thro’ long decades for other hands to Come with stamp and chemicals to crush the Rock and bear away the millions he had Found. He working, saw the months pass by, but Labored on with Lola ever in his Mind. Anon there crept before his sight A vision of that peaceful shore where first They met,—a cottage home—his Lola with A blue-eyed baby kneeling by her side, White robed, with golden curls, in attitude Of prayer—that evening prayer by mother taught; Then he saw the blessings of the simpler, Holy life; saw that wealth is least of all. One day Morales in quest of water Sent, returned in great excitement, crying “Oro grande, señor! Oro grande!” In a deep arroyo in the sands for Ages washed by floods from mountain storm, Jose had discovered as he said, “much Gold.” In cup-like hollows of the rocks by Falling waters worn away—in yellow Nuggets buried in the sand—he found the Glittering fortune they so long had sought. This he changed for currency of lighter Weight and coin, in that old city where his Forbears died; then to the seaport sped, there Impatient waited for the ship to come And carry him in triumph to his bride. BEN RUBIDEAUX. {31} {32} The consul, seeking Cedric, told him he Had sent a messenger in search of him With letters, and gave him one from Lola, Requesting that the messenger be sent. Cedric sent Morales to intercept The messenger and bring the letters back. This the faithful fellow did, and Cedric Read them with dismay. Morales saw the Troubled look on Cedric’s face and begged to Go with him. With his tamales, and his Mascal, and being Cedric’s servant, he Was satisfied. He cared not for his share; Would leave it all with him. Cedric, with real Affection, grateful for his faithfulness, Told him he might go and evermore abide With him. He read the letters o’er and O’er with sinking heart, read Lola’s letters. Beginning at the first, he read how proud Of him she was when he “so grandly stood Before her father, with the bearing of A king, and faced him in his wrath;” then of Her sad and lonely days when he was gone; How her father sought by gentleness to Mould her to his will and bring her to forget The one she loved. Of the attention paid By Simon Blake, her father’s friend and boon Companion, the man he wanted her to Wed,—a vile, besotted wretch who knew no God but gold; she hated gold and wished that He might come back poor in all but love and Purity of soul, with which no other Riches can compare. This man had urged his Suit until she had exhausted all the Harmless arts of womanhood to evade His coarse advances, praying daily that Her Cedric would return; when he boldly Claimed her hand, she told him, “No;” he bro’t her Father who commanded that she wed him; She, helpless in their hands, had pled for time— One more year; then, if Cedric had not come, Her answer they should have. One day she, in An arbor half hidden in the trellis, Had heard her father’s overseer, Ben Rubideaux, and Simon Blake make bargain That for a sum the overseer would watch For Cedric and murder him if he should Come. She knew he did not fear them all, but For her sake, she begged him not to venture There. She gave a number in the city Where he would find a friend, a lady friend, Of hers. It was arranged that she should come For her. Then, as his lawful wife, he could Defend her and himself, if needs must be. ’Twere best that he should come with pistols, armed; Ben Rubideaux and Blake were desperate And wicked men. She wrote, fearing lest her Letters would not be received; since he left, She had received no word from him; she knew That he would write, but they had come between. {33} {34} {35} THE WEDDING. This plan was not to Cedric’s liking for He would fain have gone openly and claimed His bride, but for her sake he acquiesced, And in his servant’s name he took a house, A lovely house, in quiet place apart. There Lola came, and as the light of slow Descending sun proclaimed the dying day, And zephyrs laden with the breath of bloom And tuneful with the song of mocking bird, Were wafted from the sea, then from the mission Came the parish priest, and in soft accents Of the Spanish tongue, pronounced the holy Words that made them one. No other witness Than his servant and her friend. And there thro’ Long and dreamy, blissful days, they passed their Honeymoon. Morales, with his native Instinct, saw that danger hovered over Cedric; and, unknown to him, he shadowed All his steps. One night a messenger in Haste came to the door, told Cedric that his Servant was in trouble, needed him; he Went, not knowing that his faithful Jose Shadowed them. When near the water front the Stranger fled; and from the cotton bales and Freightage piled upon the dock, two ruffians Sprang on Cedric. When the light of morning Dawned, the lifeless forms of Simon Blake, Ben Rubideaux and poor Morales were found Lying on the bloody dock. All night Lola Paced the floor in anguish, list’ning for the Footsteps that came not. Nor knew she of the Tragedy until she read: “Murdered! In the Night! Two citizens of high repute shot down! But not until one of the murderers (A bearded foreigner) was killed by them. The other has escaped, but the mob is On his track and he will soon be taken.” The paper gave a good description of Her husband, which she doubted not, was given By the man who called for him. If she should Speak, it would bring harm to Cedric; he might Escape and come to her; so, taking hope, With one trusty servant she in hiding Waited there. Her friend had gone and no one Knew of her abiding place. The weary Weeks and months rolled by; she pined, and passing Near the gates of death, awoke to find a Blue-eyed baby by her side—the child of Cedric’s dreams. The months passed by and still No word from Cedric came. She, yielding to Her grief and drooping, faded as a flower That withering in decadence fades away. The rosy seraph sent—so kindly sent— From heaven to be the precious idol of Her solitude, and his, grew strong and more Angelic as the passing days went by. When the ruffians from the darkness sprang on {36} {37} When the ruffians from the darkness sprang on Cedric, with ready shot, the foremost fell; But the bludgeon of the other laid him Low; then, as the fatal blow was falling, Morales coming, threw himself between; And in deadly combat grappled with Ben Rubideaux. With bowie knives they struggled, Each receiving fatal thrusts, nor yielded Until weak from loss of blood, they parting Fell; Morales’ bowie buried in the Heart of Rubideaux. Cedric lay for hours, Unconscious; then, his strength returning, he Rose, and dazed, bewildered, groped along the Frontage, stag’ring like a drunken man; the Stevedores thought him one returning from a Night’s debauch. He in the early morning, Came where a boat was loosening its cables From the wharf; and unnoticed, stumbled on And fell among the luggage in a swoon. THE MYSTIC TOKEN. {38} The boat—bound for the Indies—was well out On the gulf before they found and lifted Him; nor knew they of the tragedy upon The dock, or that he was hunted as a Murderer. They finding on his person The token of a craft which they reveréd, They cared for him and left him safely in An island city of the Southern Sea. There his brother craftsmen gathering round him, Nursing—raised him—raised him as one from the Dead. From the “Valley of the Shadows” brought Him forth to perfect health and vigor; but Alas! the silken cord that erstwhile bound Him to the past, was broken! Memory Was gone! Nor, with active mind and clear, could He recall the past, tell his name or whence He came. He strove to lift the veil and look Beyond the wall of night that intervened. That cruel blow had caused a lesion of The brain—a lapse of memory complete. As the wire that bears the hidden current Broken, swaying in the breeze, connecting Sends a gleam across the night, so at times Bright gleams of memory, almost taking Shape, would light his way; then leaving him in Greater darkness, would as quickly fly away. Gradually came before his sight, as Dimly seen thro’ nebulae, the outlines Of a form and face came from the misty Moonlight of the past. At last, came back to Him, that picture which had made the deepest Imprint on his mind—his Lola, as he Saw her standing by her father’s side. But When was this? And where? And who was she? By exercise of all the strength of his Great will, her name once more came back to him, And then her father’s; then the city where They lived; and then it was borne in on him That she was his betrothed; that he had gone To that fair isle to make a home for her. Now, having gained the wherewithal, he could Go and bring her. With this thought, the flame of Love rekindled blazed anew, as clearly He remembered those six happy days of Love with her—what she said, his promises; And now—his hot blood leaping to the call, He hastened on his way. Arriving there, He straightway went to find her father’s Home and claim her as he swore to do the Day he left her there. The Colonel met him With a scornful smile and said: “So you have Come? You may have her, if you wish for such As she.” Breaking forth in rage, he cried—with Oaths—“Go! Find her at the hospital”—he Told the driver where—“Go! Find her with her Child of shame; they are good enough for you! I care not if she fills a harlot’s grave.” THE STOLEN CHILD. {39} {40} {41}