The Redemption
2! fjàvid forson
By CHARLES FREDERIC GOSS
CarrrtfUt. I«» b, Th, K«r>a M, r.ll Cowranjr
¿£O
All Kl«ht, R^wrr.l
= "~Z==---------
lay between him and the bridge where
CHAPTER VI
Early th« next mortun« th« two ad­ he had agreed to await the adventur­
venturers took th«ir departure.
The ers. and then paused.
jovial quack lavished hia good-bvea
He was earl)
There was still time
upon the landlord and th« ‘riff-raff
to reflect.
Had th« carriage arrtv«u
who gathered to welcome the coming at that moment he would have gone;
•r speed th« parting guest at the door but it tarried, and the tide of love and
of th« country tavern.
He drov« a
regret bore back to th« old famil-
lar life.* *1 cannot go
I cannot give
pair of beautiful, spirited horwea. and
had the satisfaction of knowing that
it up." h« murmured to himself.
tie excited th« envy of every beholder,
Torn by conflicting emotions. Inclin­
as he took the ribbons tn his hand,
ing to first one course and th«n anoth­
swung out his Iona whip and started
er. ho finally turned his face away
If her husband's heart was swell» from the brtdge and fled, impelled by
tng with pride. Pt-pee la a was bursting
weakness rather than desire
He did
with anxiety.
An instinct which she not once look back, but ran at the top
d<d not understand had prevented her of his speed straight to the old barn
front telling the doctor of her inter» and hid himself rom
sight
There,
slew with the Quaker.
Long before breathless and miserable, he watched
the farmhouse came Ln alght she be­
He had not long to wait Th« dassllng
gan to scan the landscape for the fig­
tum-out" dashed into view. On thi
ure which had been so vividly
im­
high s«at h« beheld Pepeeta. saw the
pressed upon her mind.
eager glance sh« cast at
the
farm
The swift horses, well fed and well
house, followed her until they arrived
groomed, whirled
the
light
wagon at th« bridge, beheld her disappoint­
along the road at a rapid pace and as ment, raved at his
own
weakness
they passed the humble home of the rushed to th« door, halted, returned,
Quaker. Pepeeta saw a little child rushed back again,
returned,
threw
driving the cows down the long lane,
himself upon th« sweet smelling hay.
and a woman moving quietly among cursed his weakness and
Indeciaton
the flowers in the garden; but David and finally surrendered hlms«lf to mis­
ery.
himself was not to be seen.
A tear fell from her eye. and her
From the utter wretchedness of that
Shin quivered
With th« utmost effort
bitter hour, he was roused by the ring­
of her will ahe could not repress these ing of the breakfast belL
Springing
•vtdenee* of her disappointment, and
to his feet, he hastened to th« spring,
with a spasm .lie motion she clutched bathed has face, assumed a cheerful
the arm of the driver as if it were
look and entered th« hous«.
that of Destiny* and she could hold it |
For the first tlm« tn his Ilf« he at-
back. So sudden and so powerful was I : tempted th« practlc« of deception, and
the grasp of her young hand, that It I
! experienced th« bitterness of carrying
turned the horses out of the road and a guilty secret in his bosom. How he
all but upset the carriage.
With a
worried through the morning meal and
violent jerk of the reins, the astonish­ th« prayer at th« family altar, he never
ed driver pulled them back. and ev-
knew, and he escaped with Inexpressi­
etolmed with an oath
ble relief to th« stable and the field to
“You little wild cat. If you ever d-d-
take up the duties of his dally life. He
•o that again. I w .11 throw jou into found It plodding work, for the old In­
the d-d-ditch!"
spirations to endeavor had utterly van­
Excuse me!" she answered humbly,
ished
He who had hitherto found toll
cowering under his angry glances.
a beatitude now moved behind
th«
' What Is the matter?"
he asked. ' plow like a common drudge.
more kindly, seeing the tears in her
Tired of th« pain which he endured?
•yes.
he tried again and again to forget the
**I do not know
I am nervous, I
whole experience and to persuade him­
guess." she answered., sadly.
self that he was glad the adventure
“Nervous?
P-p-peeta Aesculapius I ' had ended; but he knew In his heart
oenoui?
I thought her nerves were of hearts that he had failed to follow
made of steel? What is the m-m-mat- | the gypsy, not because he did not real­
ter?" he asked, looking at her anx­
ly <lsh to. but because he did not
iously.
wholly dare.
The consciousness that
His gentleness calmed her, and she
he was not only a bad man but a cow­
answered: “I am sorry to leave a place ard. added a new element to the bit­
where I have been so happy’
Oh!
terness of the cup he was drinking
why cannot we settle down somewhere
Each succeeding day was a repeti­
and stay? I get so tired of being al­
tion of the first, and became a palnrful
ways on the wing.
Even the birds unrest. The very world in which he
hav« nests to re«t in for a little while.
lived seemed to have undergone
a
Ara we never going to have a home?" transformation. Th« sunlight had lost
“Nonsense, child! What do we want Its glory, the flowers had become pale
with a h-h-home? It is better to be and odorless, the sor.gs of the birds
always on the go. I want my liberty. dull and dispiriting
It suits me beat to fly through the
Some men pass their lives In th«
heavens like a hawk or swim the deep
midst of environments where Insincer­
•ea like a shark. A home would be a
ity would not have been so painful;
p-p-prison. I should tramp back and
but in a home and a community where
forth In it like a polar bear in a c-c- sham and hypocrisy were almost un­
eag*
B-b-be gay!
Be happy!
How
known these perpetual deceptions be-
can >ou be sad on a morning like this?
<ame more and more Intolerable with
I A) ok at the play of the muscles under
every passing hour. Nothing could
the smooth skins of the horses? Re-
be more certain than that tn a short
mem)»er the b-b-bright shining dollars
time, like some foreign substance In a
that we coaxed out of the tightly b-b-
healthy body, his nature would force
buttoned breeches pockets of the gray-
him out of this uncongenial environ­
backed Q-Q-Quakers
What more do
ment. With some natures the experi­
yon ask of life? What else can it g-g-
ence would have been a slow and pro­
glve?"
tracted one. but with him the termina­
"It do**« not make me happy! I shall
tion could not be long delayed.
•ever be happy until I have a home."
It came In a tragedy at the close of
•he said, still sobbing, and trying to
the next Sabbath. The day had been
•oncea! the cause of her grief from
dreary, painful and exasperating be­
herself as well as from her husband.
yond all endurance, and he felt that he
She had divined the cause of her
tlsap point men t with an unerring in- could never stand the strain of anoth­
er. And so. having detained his moth­
•tlnct. It was exactly as she thought
At the last Instant, David’s hCart had er in the sitting room after the rest of
the family had retired, he paced the
tailed him.
floor for a few moments, and after
On the preceding evening he had
hurried through his "chores," excused several unsuccessful attempts to Intro­
himself from giving an account of the duce the subject gently, said bluntly
•Mother. I am chafing
myself
to
adventures of the day on the ground
•f fatigue, and retired to his room to death against the limitations of this
cherish in his heart the memories of narrow life."
that beautiful face and the prospects
•f the future. He could not sleep For
hours he tossed on his bed or sat in
th« window looking out into the night,
and when at last he fell into an uneasy
•lumber his dreams were haunted by
Iwo faces which struggled ceaselessly
to crowd each other from his mind.
One was the young and passionate
sountenance of the gj pay, and the oth­
er was that of his iieautiful mother
with her pale, carven
features,
her
•now-white hair, her pensive and un­
earthly expression. They both looked
kt him, and then gazed at each other.
Now* one set below the horizon like a
wan. white moon, and the other rose
above it like th« glowing star of lo\ »
Now the moon passed over the glowing
•tar In a long eclipse and then dfsap-
pearing behind a cloud left the bril-
Ila nt star to shine alone.
When he awoke the gray dawn re-
realed in vague outline the realities of
the world, and warned him that he had
but a few moments to execute
his
plans.
He sprang from
his
couch
strong in his purpose to depart, for
the fever of adventure was still burn­
ing In his veins and
the rapturous
looks with which Pepeeta had received
his promise to be her companion still
made his pulses bound. He hurriedly
put a few things into a bundle and
Stole out of the house.
As he moved quietly
but
swiftly
sway from the familiar scenes,
his
heart which had been beating so high
from hope and excitement began to
sink In his beoom.
He
had
never
dreamed of th« fore« of his attach­
ment to this dear place, and he turned
his face toward the old gray
house
•gain and again. Every step away from
It «eemed more difficult than the last,
and hhi feet became heavy as lead. But
h« pressed on, ashamed to acknowl-
«¿ge his Inability to execute his pur-
Ht cam« to th« last f«no« which
“My son," she said, calmly, "this has
not come to me as a surprise.”
He moved uneasily and looked as If
he would ask her "Why?"
"Because." she said, as If he had
really spoken, "a mother possesses th-
power of divination, and ran discern
the sorrows of her children, by a suf­
fering In her own bosom.”
The
consciousness
that
he
had
caused her pain rendered him Incalía-
ble of speech, and for a moment they
sat in silence.
|
1
.
j
I
'
i
■
"What is thy wish and purpose, my
•on?” she asked at last, with an effort
which seemed to exhaust her strength.
"I wish to see th** world,” he an­
swered, his eye kindling as he spoke
* I have seen it in my dreams. I have
heard Its distant voices calling to me.
.My spirit chafes to answer th' Ir sum­
mons.
I strain at my anchor like n
great ship caught by the tide."
' Shall I tell thee what this world of
which thee has dreamed such dreams
Is really like, my son?
I will." she
said, regarding him with a look which
seemed to devour him with yearning
love. "This world whose voices they
hears calling is a fiction of thine own
brain
That which the« thinks thee
beholds of glory and beauty thee hast
conjured up from the depths of a
youthful and disordered fancy,
and
projected into an unreal realm. That
world which thee has thus beheld In
thy dreams will burst like a pin-prick­
ed bubble when thee tries to enter It
It Is not the real world, my son. How
shall I tell thee what that real world
1«?
It is a snare, a pit-fall.
It is a
flame into which young moths are ever
plunging.
It promisee, only to de­
ceive; It beckons, only to betray; Its
smiles ar« ambushes; It Is sunlight on
the surface, but ice at the heart; It
offers life, but it confers death. I bld
th«« f«ar It, shun It, hat« It I**
-Mother.- h« «xcialined. “whai dw-s
th«« know of this world. th«« who h»s
IMkM'vi thy life In lon«ly place« and
amongst a qul«t p«opl«?”
She r\ui« and paced th« floor as If to
permit some of h«r excitement to es­
cape In physical activity, and pausing
before him. Mid “My only and well-
beloved «on. the« doe« not know thv
mother.
A ' ell has been drawn over
that portion of her Ilf« which preceded
thy birth, and Its secrets are hidden In
her own heart.
She has preved Clod
that she might never ha\« to bring
them Into th« light; but h« has Im­
posed upon her th« necessity of open­
ing the grave In which th«) ar« burled,
tn order that, ««ring them, th«« may
abandon thy desires to taste those
pleasures which one« lured thy mother
along th« flower-strewn pathway to
her stn and sorrow.”
Her aolemnlty and h«r suffering pro­
duced in th« bosom of her son a nam«-
lese fear.
H« could not «peak
H«
could only look and listen
“Thee sees before th««," she contin­
ued. “the faded form and features of
a woman once young and beautiful.
Can thee beltev« it?"
H« did not answer, for
«he
had
seemed to him as mothers always do
to children, to ha\e been always what
h« had found her upon awakening to
consciousness
He could not remem­
ber when h«r hair was not gray Some­
thing In h«r manner revealed to the
startled soul of th« young Quaker that
he was about to com« upon a dlscov-
•ry that would shake th« very foun­
dation of hie life; for a moment ho
could not «peak.
“David,” ah« said. In a vole« that
•ounded Ilk« an echo of a long-dead
past, "the f«ar that th« sins of thy
parents should b« visited upon th««
has tormented «very hour of my Ufa
I have watched thee and prated for
thee as no one but a mother who has
drun.k »*0 bitter cup to Its dregs could
ever do.
I have trembled at
«very
childish etn.
In every little fault 1
have teheld a miniature of the vices
of thy mother and thy
father—thy
father! Oh* David, my son my son!“
The white lips parted, but no sound
Issued from them
She raised
her
white hand and clutched at her throat
as If choking.
Then ahe
trembled,
gasped, reeled, and fell forward Into
hts arms.
In a moment more,
the
agitated
heart had ceased to beat, and the se­
cret of her life was hidden In its mys­
terious silence. The sudden. Inexplica­
ble and calamitous nature of this event
came near unsettling the mental bal­
ance of the sensitive and highly or­
ganised youth
Coming as It did upon
the very heels of the experiences which
nad so thoroughly shaken his faith in
ch« old life, he felt himaelf to be the
target for ever) arrow In the quiver
of misfortune.
(To be continued.)
>o< to Be Trapped.
“Tonceds nothing,” was th« grtrlr«
of a well-known politician concerning
a certain famous disputed
ejection.
His policy was followed to tb« letter by
the man of whom the Chicago Trib­
une telle.
On the relief train that
had been rushed to the scene of the
railway wreck was a newspaper r«-
porter.
The first victim he saw was a man
whose eyes were blackened and whose
left arm was In a sling
With hts hair
full of dirt, one end of his shirt collar
flying loose and his coat ripped up
the bark, the victim was sitting on
the grass and serenely contemplating
the landscape
“How many people are hurt?" asked
the reporter, hurrying up to him.
"I haven’t heard of anybody being
hurt, young man.” said the other.
"How did this wreck happen?”
"T haven’t heard of any wreck.”
"You haven’t? Who are you, any­
how?"
”1 don’t know that It’« any of your
business, but I’m the claim agent of
the road.”
A M«n of If la Word.
Tom—Lend
me S10
I’ll pay you
next week.
Dick—That’s what you
said last
week.
Tom—Well, you don’t want me go­
ing around and telling you one thing
one week and another thing the next,
do you?
A Tialklnic Machine.
Brother—How
did
you like m>
friend, Mr. Smith.
Sister—Why, he yawned three time.«
while I wax talking to him.
Brother Perhaps he wasn’t yawn­
ing
He may have been trying to say
something
1 u to Him.
Stern Parent—So you would be will­
ing to die for my daughter, would you?
Ardent Suitor—I would, Indeed!
Stem Parent—All right, then. Get
your life insured for *20.000 and make
good.
A Partin« Shot.
Doctor- Your case la a very serious
one, sir, and I think a consultation
had better be held.
Patient- Very well, doctor; have us
many accomplice, aa you like.
In Fashion,
Crawford—So your
wife
make mince plea any more?
Crabshaw—No.
She
usee
doeen't
all
the
od<la and ende around the houae as
trimmings for her hat. Puck.
«•enrroun Johnny,
Mtnlater—Johnny,
do
you
know
where little boys go that go Pahlng on
Sunday?
Johnny—Bure. Follow me an’ I ll
show you.
A Foregone C'onrlnalon.
“Everybody thinks that Amelia La
ouch a aweet girl, and I can't aeo It.”
"You can’t? Wby. nuin, her father
made a big fortune In the sugar bual-
neat.”
Ready for Trial,
“The charge la deaartlon.
What’ll
be your defense?”
“Temporary Insanity, or I
never
would have married her.“
hundred gu«*i*t« from tb<* l‘«»n» n«. Totihn
was and surrmindhig trlt»c«.
H iom
Su, an rbank«giving Pay. w .m fro« ra«t rrpt.ng the
are »upi*>»♦»»I to rv
an<l from wr«t
turn thr gift with eqitidlv rt|M*nstvr one«
From north an<1 froi -t» »Th come the pH
later on, but f«-w of then* are iu thr jm *
grim and xnrM.
When thr grav hglrr t
£t»gian«iep »er« sit ion so to do.
fun nil bl« t«Mrd
The Poncns h<»ld every Thank «giving
The old broken link« »f rrfiertlnn restored
nil a href issue da».
If thr agent dm*
When the care aearled man eevkt hie moth
er once more.
not come forward and present them with
And thr worn matron «nillra where the girl a herd of rettlr (or this <M*vns>un they
I
•
What moisten« the lip, what brighten« the rnortgngr their property and buy rattle
eye
of some neighboring ranchman.
A b’ef
That call« l»a» k thr pt«t like the rich pump tsMiir is th«» moat typical and al«n the
kin pie }
most picturesque of Indian Thank «giving
ce|e|»retiona.
For years th* Ku»rrniueut
O frnlt loved of t>»rh<xx| , the old day« re
raliing .
has forbidden the issue of l»re( after the
When w<»<»d grape« were purpling and brown
manner of an old tlm« leaue. but on es
nut« wrr* falling;
allowed
the
When wild, ugly fares we carved In It« ¡MN’Ial cfc'vnsioaa they arc
«kin.
a mu semen t of killing th« Ir own meat. It
Blaring out through the dark with a ran
ia sa d by the government officers who
die within!
When wr laughed round the cornheap. with succeeded in having tbr practice stopped
heart« all In tune.
that beef iaeurs tend to make the Indian
Our chair a broad pumpkin, our lantern wilder an«l more difficult to civilise.
the moon.
A hun«lr**il rattle are turned loose in
Telling tales of the fairy who traveled like
a large psetur*. The young men of the
•tea in
tn a pumpkin «hell roach, with two rat« tribe are mounted oti mustangs and have
for hsr tram ’
shining gun«.
With the <« mm | wishr« of
Then, thanks for thy presence* none the Mjuawa and tnedlcine men ringing in
«werfer nr fiettrr
their rani, they ride out tn kill the «-stile,
E’er smoked from an oven or circled a Th«« beasts have no chance fur life what
platter!
The cha«a ta accompanied by an
Fairer han«)« never wrought at a pastry ever.
more fine.
undue amount of wild yelling, wb Ir ex
Brighter eye« never watrbrd o’er Its baking clteraent grows Intense in the camp. The
than thine!
And the prayer which my mouth Is too full smell of fresh blond makes the squaws
to express.
wild. •• It were. After nil the cattle have
flwells my heart that thy shadow may neter hern shot down then rhe killers give a
grow less,
That th* day« of thy lot ruay be It-ngthrnrd signal which mean« fhnt all of the tribe
below.
are at liberty to rush forth and wurr
And tha frame of thy work like pumpkin their |M>rrlon. A half l>r«-f m awarded to
vine grow.
each srpiaw.
Thr b«’rf is cleaned and
And thy life he as sweet, and Its last ano
rnok«w| on a firr on the open plain, while
set «ky
Bohlen tinted and fair as thy own pumpkin the medicine men dance their approval
pie ’
and the warriors sing in their glee
The
—John Greenleaf Whittier
fen at follows w.th more dancing, and the
whole day i« thus sjent. ending late nt
THE RED MAN’S THANK8OIVINO
night with a final
g >rge.
\rw
York
How Kesrrvwtlon liidlnns Enjoy the Tribune.
l>o> —k Pony «moke Popular.
Makins the Pr«»elM nan t Ion.
Interest in Thanksgiving dny and ha
There is n good «leal of form ami cere­
observance 1« just ns intense these days mony about the making of thr Thank«
,
imonf the reservation Indian« a« in col­ giving proclamation.
It Is composed by
lege towns where great football gnrn«*s are the President himself nn«l In most in
s<hed«ih*d to occur.
Especially is thia stances written out in his own hnnd I
true in the Southwest, where the Indians When this la done the document g«»e« tn
have had an opportunity to become thor­ the Rfate Department, where It is care­
oughly civilised of late years. The white fully copied in ornamental writing that
(people find no more enjoyment in this day is almost like engraving on the official
of universal cheer than do these nntne blue paper of that department. The next
thing needed on the document Is ths
dusky redskins.
It is a day of fensting. playing and great seal of the government. This seal
gaming, with a big dance at night. Ruch is kept by the clerk of pardons and com
•¡>ort only come« once a year to them missions, and it !• very carefully guard
Its keeper will
nowadays, when they have had to forsake e«| tinder lock and key.
the scalp ng knife for the plow.
Tlwir not produce it without n «pw*lal warrant
wild nature revolted at the idea of work, signed by the President, and an impres
and it hits been with much difficulty tlwit «Ion of the seal is quite n ceremony in
the government agenta have made farmers itself. When the proclamation has been
out »»I the young braves. A day of rest
and amusement is considered good for
AN AFTER DINNER SPEECH-’
their belter nature, and the government
authorities are willing that Thanksgiv­
ing day shall become a festal time for
th* rcservat.on wards of the nation.
The <)«ages hold a big feast at
bu“ka. their capital city.
All mernliere
of thr Iribr are invit«v| to take ¡»«rt in
the festivities. At the beginning and etnl
of each meal, and there are many, the
ige«| mission«rv who Lvrs among them is
invited to deliver a short prayer, thank-
ng the (treat Spirit for the <oo«t things
which the agent has sent them. The food
is rooked by the Mpiaws, and, while It
could be preparer! in a much cleaner and
more tasteful manner, thr cooking is an
improvrment over that of a few years
ago.
The Apaches and Cheyennes are in th«
habit of holding a pony smoke.
Often
the (>sages indulge In this expensive fes­
tival. A pony smoke Is a friendly meet­
ing of two tribes and Is especially ap­
propriate for the occasion.
The tribe
giving the smoke Is supposed to bear all
the expenses.
They provide the best
game and vegetables In the market for
their guests, and at th« end of the first
day’s meeting they present a good pony
to the head of each family vlartlng them.
As a tribe consists of from 300 to 000
families, the expenses soon mount high.
faff»*'
The Osagea, being the richest reservation
Indians, can better afford to hold posy
mokes, and they generally isvlt« ««v«ral
THE THANKSGIVINO rüMPKIN
'.h i« duly «».- u-l • .1 >•' »!•• I many cupi««
are made ■•( it I») « « rk« and one Is «ent
s
t’liiun
It I« also given out then to th«
pre«« a grot«, who telegraph it all over
I
tie receive« it, iswues «me himself for hi«
State.
Il r«|ulr*r«t
to
Pewew.
Pin th* ghost of the got b’er
Who u«ed to I* •« girai ;
H
tr.l (>>nr«
Ami pl r I them on a piste
Rea«1er. sh*«i • kindly tear
For my un ba pp y fat«.
This 1« the i*omm»n fate of all
I l»’»n thr world'« great chart :
Thrv ve got to Irsvr a pile of l»onr«
Ths «tupl«l arid the «mart
Even whrn
dlrd
Hr Irft a Ifcmapart«.
TVs srs merely pn|u»et«.
Moving on a wiring .
And when *r tiilnk that wr are IT,
I hr ni Will fall
«..’«Ing •
O grave, where Is thv victory?
<» drsth. where Is tny «flag?"
A THANKSOIVINO IDYL
"It i< s good thing to give think« «into
the Lord, and to wing praise* unto »by
nnm»’, O most High. To allow forth »by
loving kindness in thr morning, and thy
fatthfulnes»« every night. • • • Serve
the Lord with gladness; come before
Ills
presence
with
singing
Bring
enriched in everything to nil iMuintlful*
ness. which ca use th through us lhank«glv-
ing to (Ind.
•
•
•
(> give thank«
onto the Lord, for he 1« go<»d. for his
mercy endurrth forever.
To hint which
led his |»enplr through the wlldernesm|
for bls mercy endurrth forever."
Thia «tin uatiall) I
an Id of every
rnnn who can pin) the piano well If«
can’t do anything else.
OEE. BUT I FEEL CROWDED ”
I r«tu Av Tnouwa A
I ««At.gATtM AM ASTI- I
C lima « on iwo
I
—chlraro Tribun«.