*
again."
Then at last Leonard broke out:
“You do not speak the truth. I did not
ask you for your daughter’s hand. I ask
ed you for the promise of it when I should
have shown myself worthy of her. But
now there is an end of that. I will go,
but before I go I will tell you the truth.
You are a schemer and a hypocrite. You
wish to use Jane’s beauty to catch this
Jew with. Of her happiness you think
nothing, provided only you can get his
money. She is not a strong character, and
it is quite possible that you will succeed
in your plot, but I tell you that it will not
prosper. You, who owe everything to our
family, now that misfortune has overtaken
us, turn upon me and rob me of the only
good that was left to me. By putting an
end to a connection that everybody knew
of you stamp me still deeper into the mire.
May the misfortune of my house fall upon
yours and upon all with whom you may
have to do! Goodby. ”
And he turned and left the room and
tho rectory
THE PEOPLE
OF THE MIST
f
[:
I
By H. BIDEB HAGGARD.
(Copyright, 189B, by the Author. ]
CHAPTER L
The January afternoon was passing
into night; the air was cold and still, so
■till that not a single twig of the naked
beech trees stirred; on the grass of the
meadows lay a thin white rime, half frost,
half snow; the firs stood out blackly
against the steel bued sky, and over the
tallest of them hung a single star. Past
these bordering firs there ran a road, on
which in this evening of the opening of
our story a young man stood irresolute,
glancing now to the right and now to the
left.
To his right were two stately gates of
iron fantastically wrought, supported by
stone pillars on whose summits stood
griffins of black marble embracing coats
of arms and banners inscribed with the
devioe, “Per ardua ad astra.” Beyond
these gates ran a broad carriage drive
lined on either side by a double row of
such oaks as England alone can produoe
under the most favorable circumstances
of soil with the aid of the nurturing hand
of man and three or four centuries of time.
At the head of this avenue, perhaps half
a mile from the roadway, although it
looked nearer because of the eminence
upon which it was placed, stood a man
sion of the sort that in auctioneers' adver
tisements is usually described as "noble.”
Its general appearance was Elizabethan,
for in those days some forgotten Outram
had practically rebuilt It, but the greater
part of its fabric was far more ancient than
the Tudors, dating back indeed, so said tra
dition, to the days of King John.
A hundred yards or so down the road
was a second gate of much less imposing
appearance than that which led to Outram
Hall. Leonard passed through it and
presently found himself at the door of a
square red brick bouse, built with no
other pretensions than to those of comfort.
This was the rectory, now tenanted by
the Rev. and Hon. James Beach, to whom
the living had been presented many years
before by Leonard’s father, Mr. Beach’s
old college friend.
Leonard rang the bell, and as its dis
tant clamor fell upon bis ears a new fear
struck him. What sort of reception would
he meet with in this house? he wondered.
Hitherto it had always been so cordial
that until this moment ho had never
doubted of it, but now circumstances had
changed. He was no longer even the second
son of Sir Thomas Outram of Outram
Hall. He was a beggar, an outcast, a
wanderer, the son of a fraudulent bank
rupt and suicide.
Now, as it chanced, Leonard, beggared
as ho was, had still something left which
could be taken away from him, and
'that something the richest fortune which
Providence can give to any man in bis
youth—the love of a woman whom ho also
loved For tho Hon. and Hev. James
Beach was blessed with a daughter, Jane
by name, who had the reputation, not un
deserved, of being tho most beautiful and
sweetest natured girl that the countryside
could show.
Presently the door was opened, and
Leonard entered. At thia moment it oc
curred to him that fie did not quite know
why he had come. To be altogether accu
rate, he knew why he bad come well
enough. It was to see Jane and arrive at
an understanding with her father.
The Rev. James Beach was a stout man
of bland and prepossessing appearance.
Never had he looked stouter, more pre
possessing or blander than on this partic
ular evening when Leonard was ushered
into his presence.
Leonard’s sudden advent brought sev
eral emotions into active play. There
were four people gathered round that com
fortable fire—the rector, his wife, his son,
a young man at college, and last, but not
least, Jane herself. Mr. Beach dropped
the cup sufficiently to allow himself to
look at his visitor at length, for all the
world as though bo were covering him
with a silver blunderbuss. His wife, an
active little woman, turned round as if
she moved upon wires, exclaiming, “Good
gracious, wbo’d have thought it?” while
the son, a robust young man of about
Leonard's own age and his college com
panion, said: “Hello, old fellow. Well,
I never expected to see you here today!”
a remark which, however natural it may
have been, scarcely tended to set their vis
itor at his ease.
Jane herself, a tall and beautiful girl,
with bright auburn hair, who was seated
on a footstool nursing her knees aud star
ing at the fire, paying apparently very lit
tle heed to her father’s lecture upon an
cient plate, did none of these things. On
the contrary, she sprang up with the ut
most animation, her lips apart and her
lovely face red with blushes or the beat
of the fire, and ran toward him, with
open arms, exclaiming as she came, “Ob,
Leonard, dear, dear Leonard!”
Mr. Beach turned the silver blunderbuss
upon his daughter and fired a single but
most effective shot.
“Jane!” he said in a voice in which fa
therly admonition and friendly warning
were happily blended.
Jane stopped in full career as though in
obedience to some lesson which she had
momentarily forgotten. Then Mr. Beach,
setting down the flagon, advanced upon
Leonard, with an ample pitying smilo and
outstretched band.
“How are you, my Hear boy, how are
you?” he said. "We did not expect”—
“To see me here under the circum
stances,” put in Leonard bitterly. "Nor
would you have done so, but Tom and I
understood that it was only to be a three
days’ sale.”
Then came another pause, during which
everybody present except Mr. Beach him
self rose one by one and quitted the room.
Jane was the last to go, and Leonard no
ticed as she passed him that there were
tears in her eyes.
“Jane,” said her father in a meaning
voice when her band was already on the
door, “you will be careful to be dressed in
time for dinner, will you not, love? You
Temember that young Mr. Cohen is com
ing, and I should like somebody to be
down to receive him.”
Jane's only answer to this remark was
to pass through the door and slam it be
hind her. Clearly the prospect of the ad
vent of this guest was not agreeable to her.
“Well, Leonard, ” went on Mr. Beach
when they were alone in a tone that was
meant to be sympathetic, but which jarred
horribly on bis listener’s ears, "this is a
sad business, very sad. But why are you
not sitting down?”
“Because no one asked me to,” said
Leonard as he took a chair.
“Hem!” went on Mr. Beach. “By the
way, 1 believe that Mr. Cohen Is a friend
of yours, Is he not?”
“An acquaintance, not a friend,” said
Leonard.
“Indeed I thought that you were at the
same college. ”
“Yes, but he I sa Jew, and I don’t like
Jews.”
“Prejudice, my dear boy, prejudice, a
minor sin indeed, but one against which
you should struggle. Besides the family
have been Christian for a generation. But
there, there, it is natural that you should
not feel warmly toward the man who will
one day own Outram. Ahl As I said,
this is all very sad, but it must be a great
oonsolation to you to remember that when
•«erything is settled there will be enough,
so I am told, to repay those whom your
unhappy father—um—defrauded.
And
now is there anything that I can do for
you or your brother?”
“This,” answered Leonard nervously.
“You can show your confidence in me by
allowing my engagement to Jane to be
proclaimed.”
Here Mr. Beach waved his hand once
more as though to repel some Invisible foe.
“Really I cannot listen to such non
sense any longer,” he broke in angrily.
“Leonard, this is nothing less than an im
pertinence. Of course any understanding
that may have existed between you and
Jane Is quite at an end. Engagement! I
h&rd of no engagement. I knew that
there was some boy and girl tolly between
you indeed, but for my part I never gave
the matter another thought Leave this
hou^e and never speak to my daughter
CHAPTER II.
Arthur Beach, Jane's brother, was stand
ing in the hall, waiting to speak to him,
but Leonard pushed past him without a
word, closing the hall door behind him.
Outside the snow was falling, but not fast
enough to obscure the light of the moon,
which shone through the belt of firs.
Leonard walked on down the drive till
he neared the gate, when suddenly he
heard the muffled sound of feet pursuing
him through the snow. He turned, with
an angry exclamation, believing that tho
footsteps were those of Arthur Beach, and
he was In no mood for further conversa
tion with any male member of that fami
ly. But, as it chanced, he found himself
face to face not with Arthur, but with
Jane herself, who perhaps had never look
ed more beautiful than she did at this mo
ment in tho snow and the moonlight. In
deed whenever Leonard thought of her in
after years, and that was often, there
arose in his mind a vision of a tall and
lovely girl, her auburn hair slightly pow
dered over with the falling snowflakes,
her breast heaving with emotion and her
wide gray eyes gazing piteously toward
him.
“Oh, Leonard,” she said nervously,
“why do you go without saying goodby
to me?”
He looked at her for a moment before
he answered, for something in his heart
told him that this was tho last sight which
he should win of her for many a year, and
therefore his eyes dwelt upon her as we
gaze upon thoso whom the grave Is about
to hide from us forever.
At last he spoke, and his words were
practical enough:
“You should not have come out in those
thin shoes through the snow, Jane. You
will catch cold.”
“I wish I could,” she answered defiant
ly. “I wish that I could catch such a cold
as would kill me. Then I should be out
of my troubles. Let us go to the summer
house. They will never think of looking
for me there. ”
“How will you get there?” asked Leon
ard. “It is 100 yards away, and the
snow always drifts In that path.”
“Oh, never mind the snow,” she said.
But Leonard did mind it, and presently
he hit upon a solution of the difficulty.
Having first glanced up the drive to see
that nobody was coming, he bent for
ward and without explanation or excuso
put his arms around Jane, and lifting her
as though she were a child bore her down
tho path which led to the summer bouse.
She was heavy; but, sooth to say, he could
have wished the journey longer. Present
ly they were there, and very gently he sot
her on her feet again, kissing her upon the
lips as he did so, then took off his over
coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.
All this while Jane bad not spoken. In
deed the poor girl felt so happy and so
safe in her lover’s arms that at this mo
ment it seemed to her as though she never
wished to speak or do anything for herself
again. It was Leonard who broke the si
lence.
“You ask me why I left without saying
goodby to you. It was because your fa
ther has dismissed me from the house and
forbidden me to have any more to do with
you.”
“Oh, why?” said the girl, lifting her
hands despairingly.
“Can’t you guess?” he answered, with
a bitter laugh.
“Yes, Leonard,” she wbisperod, taking
his hand in sympathy.
“Perhaps I had better put It plainly,”
said Leonard again. “It may prevent
misunderstandings. Your father has dis
missed me because my father embezzled
all my money. The sins of the father are
visited upon the children, you see; also
he has done this with more than usual
distinctness and alaortty because he wishes
you to marry young Mr. Cohen, the bul
lion broker and the future owner of Ou
tram.”
Jane shivored.
“I know, I know,” she said, “and, oh,
Leonard, I hate him!”
“Then perhaps it will be as well not to
marry him,” he answered.
“I would rather die first,” she said,
with conviction.
“Unfortunately one can't always die
when it happens to be convenient, Jane.”
“Oh, Leonard, don’t be horrid,” she
said, beginning to cry “Where are you
.going, and what shall I do?”
"To the bad, probably,” he answered.
“At least it all depends upon you. Look
here, Jane, if you stick to me, I will stick
to you. The luck is against me now, but
I have it in me to see that through. I
love you, and I would work myself to
death for you, but at tlie best it must be a
question of time, probably of years.”
“Oh, Leonard, indeed I will if I can. I
am sure that you cannot love me more
than I love you, but I can never make you
understand bow odious they all are to me
about you, especially papa.”
“Confound himl” said Leonard be-
neatb bis breath, and if Jane heard her
filial affections at that moment were not
sufficiently strong to induce her to re-
monstrate.
“Well, Jane, the matter lies thus: Ei-
ther you must put up with their treatment
or you must give me the go by. Look
here: In six months you will be 21. In
this country all her relations put together
can’t force a woman to marry a man if
she does not wish to or prevent her from
marrying ono whom she does wish to
marry. Now, you know my address at
my club in town. Letters sent there will
always reach me, and it is scarcely possi
ble for your father or anybody else to pre
vent you from writing and posting a let
ter to me. If you want my help or to
communicate with mo in any way, I shall
expect to hear from you, and if need be I
will take you away and marry you the
moment you come of age. If, on the other
band, I do not hear from you, I shall
know it is because you do not choose to
write or because that which you have to
write would be too painful for me to read.
Do you understand?”
“Oh, yes, Leonard, but you put things
so hardly.”
"Things have been put hardly enough to
me, love, and I must be plain. This is my
last chance of speaking to you. ”
At this moment an ominous sound
echoed through the night. It was none
other than the distant voice of Mr. Beach
calling "Jane! Are you out there, Jane?”
from his front doorstep.
“Ob, heavens,” she said. “There is my
father calling me. I came out by tho back
door, but mother must have been up to
my room and found me gone. She watches
me all day now. What shall I do?”
“Go back. Tell them that you have
been saying goodby to me. It is not a
crime. They cannot kill you for it.”
“Indeed they can, or just as bad,” re
plied Jane. Then suddenly she threw her
arms about her lover's neck, and burying
her beautiful face upon his breast she be
gan to sob bitterly, murmuring, "Oh, my
darling, my darling, what shall I do with
out you?”
Over the brief and distressing scene
which followed it may be well to drop a
veil. Leonard’s bitterness of mind all for
sook him now, and he kissed her and com
forted her as he might best, even going so
far as to mingle his tears with hers, tears
of which he had no cause to be ashamed.
At length she tore herself loose, for the
ominous and distant shouts were growing
i louder and more insistent.
“I forgot,” she sobbed. “Here is a fare
well present for you Keep it in memory
I of me."
I
And thrusting her band into the bosom
of her dress she drew from it a little pack
et, which she gave to him. Then once
more they kissed and clung together, and
in another moment she vanished back into
the snow and darkness, passing out of his
sight and out of his life, though from his
mind she could never pass.
"A farewell present. Keep it in mem
ory of me.” The words yet echoed in his
ears, and to Leonard they seemed fateful
—a prophecy of utter loss. Sighing heavi
ly, he opened the packet and examined its
contents by the feeble moonlight. They
were not large—a prayer book bound in
morocco, her own, with her name inside
it and a short inscription beneath, and in
the memorandum pocket of its binding a
lock of auburn hair tied round with silk.
"An unlucky gift,” said Leonard to
himself. Then putting on his coat, which
was yet warm from Jane's shoulders, he
also turned and vanished into tho snow
and the night, shaping his path toward
the village inn.
He reached it in due course and passed
into the little parlor that adjoined the bar.
It was a comfortable room enough, not
withstanding its adornment of badly stuff
ed birds and fishes, and chiefly remarkable
for its wide old fashioned fireplace with
wrought iron dugs. There was no lamp
in the room when Leonard entered, but
the light of the burning wood was bright,
and by it he could see his brother seatod
in a high backed chair gazing into the fire,
his hand resting on his knee.
Thomas Outran! was Leonard's elder
by two years and cast in a more fragile
mold. His face was the faco of a dream
er; his brown eyes were large and re
flective, aud the mouth sensitive as a
child’s. He was a scholar and a philoso
pher, a man of much desultory reading,
with refined taste and a really intimate
knowledge of Greek gems.
“Is that you, Leonard?” he said, look
ing up absently. “Wherehave you been?”
“To the rectory,” answered his brother
shortly.
“What have you been doing there?”
“Do you want to know?”
“Yes, of course. Did you see Jane?”
Then Leonard told him all the story.
“What do you think she will do?” asked
Torn when his brother had finished.
“Given the situation and tho woman, it
is a rather curious problem.”
“It may be,” answered Leonard, “but
as I am not an equation in algebra yearn
ing to bo worked out 1 don’t quite see the
fun of it. But If you ask mo what I think
she will do I should say that she will fol
low the example of everybody else and de
sert me.”
“You seem to have a poor idea of wom
en, old fellow. I know little of them my
self and don’t want to know more. But
I have always understood that it is the
peculiar glory of their sex to come out
strong on these exceptional occasions.
‘Woman in our hours of ease,’ etc.”
“Well, we shall see. But it is my opin
ion that women think a great deal more
of their own hours of ease than of those of
anybody elso. Thank heaven, here comes
our dinner!”
«
«
•
•
«
•
«
That night the brothers resolved to
make a last visit to their ancestral home.
Then they swore upon an ancient Bible
never to return to it till they could call it
their own.
Ou the morrow they went to London
and waited there awhile, but no word
came from Jane Beach, aud for good or
ill the chains of the oath that he had
taken rivetod themselves around Leonard
Outram’s neck.
Within three months of this night tho
brothers were nearing the shores of Africa,
the land of the Children of the Mist.
CHAPTER III.
Seven years passed. The brothers had
toiled in Africa, seeking the gold with
which to buy back their ancestral estate.
Tom sickened and died.
One morning, it was the day after
Tom’s death, Leonard called his servant
Otter and bade him prepare for the burial.
Otter was a knob nosed Kaffir—that is,
a member of the bastard Zulu race. The
brothers had found him wandering about
the country in a state of semistarvation,
and he had served them faithfully for
some years. They had given him the name
of Otter, his native patronymic being quite
unpronounceable, because of his extraordi
nary skill in swimming, which almost
equaled that of the animal Itself. In face
ho was hideous, though his ugliness was
not unpleasant, being due chiefly to the
great development of the tribal feature—
the nose—and in body misshapen to the
verge of monstrosity. In fact, Otter was
a dwarf, measuring little more than 4
feet in height. But what he lacked in
height he made up in breadth. It almost
seemed as though, intended by nature to
be a man of many inches, ho had been
compressed to his present dimensions by
art. His vast chest and limbs, indicating
strength nearly superhuman, his long iron
arms and massive head, all gave counte
nance to this idea. Otter had one redeem
ing feature, however—his eyes, that when
visible, which at this moment was not the
case, were large, steady and, like his skin,
of a brilliant black.
When the funeral was over and Thomas
Outram slept his last sleep beneath six
feet of earth aud stones, his brother took
out the prayer book that Jane Beach had
given him, which in truth formed all his
library, and read the burial service over
the grave, finishing it by the glare of the
lightning flashes. Then he and Otter
went back to the cave and ate, speaking
no word. After they had finished Leonard
called to the dwarf, who took his food at
a little distance.
“Listen, Otter. The tale is yet to tell.
The baas who is dead dreamed before he
died. He dreamed that I should win the
gold with which to purchase my home;
that I should win it by the help of a wom
an, and he bade me wait here awhile after
be was dead. Say, now, Otter, you who
come of a people learned in dreams and
are the child of a dream doctor, was this
a true dream or a sick man's fancy?”
“Nay, baas, who can tell for sure?” the
dwarf answered, then pondered awhile,
drawing in the dust of the floor with his
finger, and spoke again: “Yet I say that
the words of the dead uttered on the edge
of death shall come true. He promised
that you should win the wealth. You will
win it by this way or that, and once more
the great kraal across the water shall be
yours again, and the children of strangers
shall wander there no more. Let us obey
the words of the dead and bido here awhile
as he commanded. ”
Seven days had passed, and on the night
of the seventh Leonard Outram and Otter
sat together.
"Baas,” said Otter, “you are sick,
baas.”
"No,” he answered—“that is, perhaps
a little. ”
“ Yes, baas, a little. You have said noth
ing, but I know, I who watch. The fever
has touched you with his finger. By and
by he will grip you with his whole hand,
and then, baas”—
“And then, Otter, good night.”
“Yes, baas, for you, good night, and for
me, what? Baas, you think too much,
and you have nothing to do, that is why
you grow sick. Better that we should go
and dig again.”
“What for, Otter? Ant bear holes make
good graves.”
“Evil talk, baas. Better that we should
go away and wait no more than that you
should talk such talk, which is the begin
ning of death.”
Then there was silence for awhile.
"Tho fact is, Otter,"said Leonard pres
ently, "wo are both fools. It Is useless
for us to wait here with nothing to eat,
nothing to drink, nothing to smoke and
only the fever to look forward to, expect
ing we know not what. But what does it
matter? Fools and wise men all come to
one end. Lord, how my head aches and
how hot it is! I wish that we had some
quinine left. I am going out, ” and he
rose Impatiently and left the cave.
Otter followed him. He knew where he
wouid go—to bis brother’s grave. Pres
ently they were there, standing on the
hither edge of a ravine. A cloud had hid
den the face of the moon, and they could
see nothing, so they stood awhile idly
waiting for it to pass.
As they rested thus suddenly a moaning
sound came to their ears, or rather a sound
which, beginning with a moan, ended in
a long, low wail.
“What is that?” said Leonard, looking
toward the shadows on the farther side of
the ravine, whence the cry seemed to pro-
oeed.
“I do not know,” answered Otter, "un
less it be a ghost or the voice of one who
mourns her dead.”
“We are the only mourners here,” said
Leonard, and as he spoke once more the
low and piercing wail thrilled upon the
air. Just then the cloud passed, and the
moonlight shone out brilliantly, and they
saw who it was that cried aloud in this
desolate place, for there, not 20 paces
from them, on tlie other side of the ravine,
crouched upon a stone and rocking herself
to and fro as though in an agony of de
spair, sat a tall and withered woman.
With an exclamation of surpriso Leon
ard started toward her, followed by the
dwarf. So absorbed was she in her sorrow
that she neither saw nor heard them.
Even when they stood close to her she did
not perceive them, for her face was hidden
in her bony hands. Leonard looked at
her curiously. She was past middle age
now, but he could see that once she had
been handsome and for a native very light
in color. Her hair was grizzled and crisp
rather than woolly, and her hands and
feet were slender and finely shaped. At
the moment he could discover no more of
tho woman’s personal appearance, for the
face was covered up, as has been said, and
her body wrapped in a tattered blanket.
"Mother,” he said, speaking in tho Sl-
sutu dialect, “what ails you that you weep
here alone?”
The woman withdrew her hands and
sprang up with a cry of fear. As it chanced,
her gaze fel 1 first upon the dwarf Otter, who
was standing in front of her, and at tho
sight of him the cry died upon her lips,
and her sunken cheeks, clear cut features
and sullen black eyes became as those of
one who is petrified with terror. So
strange was her aspect indeed that tho
dwarf and his master neither spoko nor
moved. They stood silent and expectant.
It was the woman who broke this silence,
speaking in a low voice of awe and ad
miration, aud as she spoke sinking to her
kuees.
"And hast thou come to claim me at
last,” she said, addressing Otter, “oh,
thou whose name is Darkness, god of my
peoplo and to whom I was given iu mar
riage, from whom I fled when I was
young? Do I see thee in the flesh, lord of
the night, king of blood and terror, and
Is this thy priest? Or do I but dream?
Nay, I dream not. Slay on, thou priest,
and let my sin bo purged.”
“Here, it seems,” said Otter, "that we
have to do with one who is mad.”
“Nay, god of my people, ” the woman
answered, “lam not mad, though mad
ness has been nigh to me of late.”
“Neither am I your god nor the god of
any,” answered the dwarf, with irritation.
“Ceaso to speak folly and tell the white
lord whence come you, for I weary of this
talk of gods.”
“If you are no god, blaok one, the
thing is strange, for as the god is so you
are. But perchance it does not please you,
having put on the flesh, to avow yourself
a god. At the least, be it as you will. If
you are no god, then I am safe from your
vengeance, and if you are a god I pray you
forget the sins of my youth and spare me.
Give me food, white man,” she added in
a piteous tone. “Give me food, for I
starve.”
“There is scant fare here,” answered
Leonard, “but you are welcome to it. Fol
low me, mother,” and he led the way
across the donga to the cave, the woman
limping after him painfully.
There Otter gave her meat, and she ate
as one eats who has gono hungry for long,
greedily and yet with effort. When she
had finished, she Jookod at Leonard with
her keen dark eyes aud said:
“Say, white lord, are you also a slave
trader?”
“No,” ho answered grimly; “I am a
slave.”
" Who is your master, then—this black
one whom I deem a god, but who says
that he is no god?”
“Nay, he is but a slave of a slave. I
havo no master, mother. I have a mis
tress, and she is named Fortune.”
“Tho worst of mistresses,” said the old
woman, “or the best, for she laughs ever
behind her frown and ininglos stripes with
kisses. ’ ’
“The stripes I know well, but not the
kisses,” answered Leonard gloomily, then
added In another tone: "What is your er
rand, mother? How are you named, and
what do you seek wandering alone in the
mountains?”
“I am named Soa, and I seek succor
for one whom I love and who Is in sore
distress. Will my lord listen to my tale?”
“Speak on,” said Leonard.
Then the woman crouched down before
him and told this story:
“My lord, I, Soa, am the servant of a
white man, a trader who lives on the banks
of tiie Zambezi some four days’ march
from here, having a house there which he
built many years ago.”
“How Is the white man named?” asked
Leonard.
“The black people call him Mavoom,
but bis white name is Rodd. He is a good
master and no common man, but he has
this fault—that at times he is drunken.
Twenty years ago or more Mavoom, my
master, married a white woman, a Portu
guese whose father dwelt at Delagoa bay,
and who was beautiful—ah, beautiful!
Then ho settled on the banks of the Zam
bezi and became a trader, building the
house where it 1s now, or rather where its
ruins are. Here his wife died in childbirth.
Yes, she died in my arms, and it was I
who reared her daughter Juanna, tending
her from the cradle to this day.
"Now, after the death of his wife Ma
voom became more drunken. Still when
ho is not in liquor he is very clever and a
good trader, and many times he has col
lected ivory and feathers and gold worth
much money and also has bred cattle by
hundreds. Then he would say that he
would leave the wilderness and go to an
other country across the water, I know
not where, that country whence English
men come. Twice he started to go, and I
with him and his daughter, Juanna, my
mistress, who is named the Shepherdess
of Heaven by the black poople because
they think that she has the gift of fore
telling rain. But onco Mavoom stopped in
a town at Durban, in Natal, and getting
drunk gambled away all his money in a
month, and once lie lost it in a river, the
boat being overset by a river horse and
tlie ivory and gold sinking out of sight.
Still the last time he started he left his
daughter, the Shepherdess, at Durban,
and there she staid for three years, learn
ing those things that the white women
know, for sho Is very clever, as clever as
she is beautiful and good. Now, for two
years she has been back at the settlement,
for sho came to Delagoa bay in a ship, and
I with her, and Mavoom with us.
"But one month gone my mistress, the
Shepherdess, spoke to her father, Mavoom,
telling him that she wearied of life in the
wilderness and would sail across the wa
ters to the land which is called home. He
listened to her, for Mavoom loves his
daughter, and said that it should bo so.
But he said this also—first he would go on
a trading journey up the river to buy a
store of ivory which he knew of. Now,
6he was against this, saying: Let us start
at once. We have tempted chance too
long, and once again we are rich. Let us
go by land to Natal and pass over the seas. ’
" Still he would not listen, for he is a
headstrong man. So on the morrow ho
started to search for the stere of ivory, and
Juanna, his daughter, wept, forthough she
is fearless, it was not fitting that she
should be left thus aione; also she hated
to be apart from her father, for it Is when
she is not there to watch that he becomes
drunken.
■ Mavoom left, and 12 days went by
while I and my mistress, the Shepherdess,
sat at the settlement waiting till he re
turned. Now, it Is tho custom of my mis
tress when she is dressed to read each
morning from a certain holy book in
which are written the laws of that great
great whom sho worships. On the thir
teenth morning, therefore, she sat beneath
the veranda of the house, reading in the
book, according to her custom, and I went
about my work making food ready. Sud
denly I heard a tumult, and looking over
the wall which is around the garden and
to the left of the house, I saw a great num
ber of men, some of them white, some
Arabs and some half breeds, one mounted
and the others on foot, and behind them a
long caravan of slaves, with the slave
sticks set upon their necks. As they came
these men fired guns at the people of the
settlement, who ran this way and that.
| Some of the people fell, some were made
captive, but others of them got away, for
they were at work in the fields and had
seen the slave traders coming. Now, as I
gazed, affrighted, I saw my mistress, the
Shepherdess, flying toward the wall behind
which I stood, the book she had been read
ing from being still iu her haud. But as
she reached it the man mounted on the
mule overtook her, and she turned about
and faced him, setting her back against
the wall. Then I crouched down and hid
myself among some banana trees and
watched what passed through a crack in
the wall.
“The man on the mule was old and fat,
his hair was white and ais face yellow
and wrinkled. I knew him at once, for
often I have beard of him before, who has
been the terror of this country for many
years. He Is named the Yellow Devil by
the black people, but bis Portuguese name
is Pereira, and he has his place in a secret
spot down by one of the mouths of tho
Zambezi. Here be collects the slaves, and
here the traders come twice a year with
their dhows to carry them to market.
“Now, this man looked at my mistress
as she stood terrified with her back against
the wall. Then he laughed and cried
aloud in Portuguese: ‘Here wo have a
round out something of this nest from my
servant. Pereira said that it was eight
days’ journey from your master's settle
ment; therefore your mistress has now been
there some three or four days, if she ever
reached it. Now, from what I know of
the habits of slave traders on this coast,
the dhows will not begin to take in their
cargoes for another month, because of the
monsoon. So, if I am correct, there is
plenty of time. Mind you, mother, I am
not saying that I will have anything to do
with this business. I must think it over
first. ’ ’
•‘Yes, you will, white man,” she an
swered. "when you know tho reward, but
of that I will tell you tomorrow, when I
have cured you of your fever. And now,
I pray, black one, show me a plaoo where
I may sleep, for I am very weary.”
CHAPTER IV.
The woman Soa gave Leonard a potion
which allayed the fever, and he was soon
restored to health. He remembered his
compact, and one morning looked about
him for paper on which to draw an agree
ment He could find none. The last had
been lost when the hut was blown away
on the night of his brother's death. Then
pretty prize. This must be that Juanna he bethought him of the prayer book which
of whose beauty I have heard. Where is Jane Beach had given him. He would not
your father, my dove? Gone trading up the use tho fly leaf, beoause her name was on
rlvor, has he not? Ah, I knew It, or per it, so he must write across the title page.
haps I should not have ventured here. And thus he wrote in small, neat letters
But it was wroug of him to leave one so with his mixture of blood and gunpowder
pretty all alone. Well, well, he is about straight through the order of common
his business and I must be about mine, prayer:
for I also am a merchant, my dove, a (Agreement Between Leonard Outram and
merchant who trades in blackbirds. Ono
Soa, the Native Woman.)
with silver feathers does not often come
1. The said Leonard Outram agrees to use his
my way, and I must make the most of her. beet efforts to rescue Juanna, the daughter of
There is many a young man in our part Mr. Rudd, now reduced to a state of slavery-,
who will bid briskly for such eyes as and believed to be in the power of one Perei
yours. Never fear, my dove, we will soon ra, a slave dealer.
2. In consideration of the services of the
find you a busband.
said Leonard Outram, the said Soa delivers to
“ ‘And now if you are ready,’ he said, him a certain stone believed to be a ruby, of
‘wo will be moving, for it is eight days’ which the said Leonard Outram hereby ac
journey to my little nest on the coast, anil knowledges the receipt.
8. Should the rescue be effected the said
who can tell when tlie dhows will come to
fetch my blackbirds? Have you anything Soa hereby agrees, on behalf of herself and
the said Juanna Rodd, to conduct the said
to say before you go, my dove?’
Leonard Outram to a certain spot in central
“A mule was brought, and Juanna, my southeastern
Africa, inhabited by a tribe
mistress, was set upon it. Then the slave known as the People
of the Mist, there to use
traders shot down such of the captives as her best efforts to reveal to him and to enable
they thought to be of no value, the driv him to appropriate to his own uses the store of
ers flogged the slaves with their three rubies used in the religious ceremonies of tho
thonged sjambochs of hippopotamus hide, said tribe. Further, the said Soa agrees, on
and the lino moved on down the banks of behalf of the said Juanna Rodd, that she, the
said Juannal, will, if necessary, play the part
the river.
of a goddess among the said People of the
“When all had gone, I crept from my Mist, or any other part that may be required
hiding place and sought out those men of of her.
the settlement who had escaped the
4. It is mutually agreed that these enter
slaughter, praying them to find arms and prises be prosecuted until the said Leonard Ou
follow on the Yellow Devil's spoor, wait tram is satisfied that they are fruitless.
Signed in the Maniea mountains, eastern Af
ing for an opportunity to rescue tho Shep
herdess whom they loved. But they would rica, on the 9th day of May, 18—.
When ho bad finished this document,
not do this, for the heart was out of
them. They were cowed by fear, and most perhaps one of tho most remarkable that
of the headmen had been taken captive. was ever written since Pizarro drew up
No, they would do nothing but weep over his famous agreement for tho division of
their dead and their burnt kraals. ‘You the prospective spoils of Peru, Leonard
cowards,’ I said, ‘if you will not come, read it aloud and laughed heartily to him
then I must go alone. At least let some self. It was the first time he had laughed
of you pass up tlie river and search for for some months. Then he translated it to
Mavoom to tell him what has chanced his companions, not without complacency,
for it had a truly legal sound, and your
here in his house.’
“They said that they would do this, layman loves to affect the lawyer.
“What do you think of that, Otter?” ho
and taking a blanket aud a little food 1
followed upon tho track of the slave driv asked when he had finished.
“It is fine, baas, very fine,” answered
ers. For four days I followed, sometimes
coming in sight of them, till at length my the dwarf. “Wonderful are the ways of
food was done, and my strength left me. the white man! But, baas, how can the
On the morning of the fifth day I could old woman promise things on behalf of
go no farther, so I crept to the top of a another?”
Leonard pulled his beard reflectively.
koppic and watched their long line wind
ing across the plain. In Its center wore The dwarf had put his finger upon the
two mules, and on one of these mules sat weak spot in the document, but he was
a woman. Then I knew that no harm saved the necessity of answering by Soa
had befallen my mistress as yet, for she herself, who said quietly: "Have no fear,
whito man. That which I promise upon
still lived.
"Now, from the top of thiskoppic I saw her behalf my mistress will certainly per
a little kraal far away to the right, and form, if so be that you can savo her. Give
to this kraal I came that afternoon with me the pen that I may make my mark
my last strength. I told its people that I upon the paper, but first do you swear
had escaped from the slavo drivers, and upon the red stone that you will perform
they treated me kindly. Hero It was also what you promise in this writing?”
So Leonard laughed, swore and signed,
that I learned that some white men from
Natal were digging for gold in these and Soa made her mark. Then Otter af
mountains, and next day I traveled on in fixed his as witness to the deed, and tho
search of them, thinking that perchance thing was flnisbod. Laughing onco more
they would help me, for I know well that at the comicality of the transaction, which
the English hate tho slave drivers. And indeed he had oarrled out more by way of
bore, my lord, I am come at last witli a joke than for any other reason, Leonard
much toil, and now, I pray you, deliver my put the prayer book in his pocket and the
mistress, the Shepherdess, from the hands great ruby into a division of his belt. The
of the Yellow Devil. Oh, my lord, I seem old woman watched the stone vanish with
poor and wretched, but I tell you that if an expression of triumph. Then sho cried
you can deliver her you shall win a great exultlngly:
"Ab, white man, you have taken my
reward. Yes, I will reveal to you that
which I have kept secret all my life—aye, pay, and now you are my servant to the
even from Mavoom my master. I will re end! He who swears upon the blood of
veal to you tho secret treasures of my peo Aca swears an oath indeed, and woe be to
him if he should break it!”
ple, ‘tho Children of the Mist.’ ”
“Quite so, ” answered Leonard. “I have
Now, when Leonard, who all the while
had been listening attentively and in si taken your pay, and I mean to earn it, so
lence to Soa’s tale, heard her last words, he we need not enter into the matter of the
raised his head and stared at her, think blood of Aca. It seems to me more prob
ing that her sorrows had made her mad able that our own blood will be in ques
There was no look of madness upon tho tion before all is said and done. And now
woman’s fierce face, however, but only one we had better make ready to start. ”
We shall not need to follqjv the footsteps
of the most earnest and indeed passionate
entreaty. So, letting this matter go by for of Leonard Outram and bis companions
day by day. For a week they traveled on,
the while, he spoke to her.
“Are you then mad, mother?” he asked. journeying mostly by night, as they had
"You see that I am alone here, with one purposed. They climbed mountains; they
servant, for my three companions, of struggled through swamps and forests;
whom the people in the kraal told you, they swam rivers. Indeed one of these
are dead through fever, and I myself am was in flood, and they never could have
smitten with it, and yet you ask me, crossed it had it not been for Otter’s pow
alone as I am, to travel to the slave trad ers of natation. Six times did the dwarf
er’s camp that is you know not where, swim the torrent, bearing their goods and
and there, single handed, to rescue your guns held above the water with one hand.
mistress, if indeed you have a mistress On the seventh journey he was still more
and your tale is true. Are you then mad, heavily weighted, for, with some assist
ance from Leonard, he must carry the
mother?”
“No, lord, I am not mad, and that woman Soa, who could swim but little.
which I tell you Is true, every word of it. But he did it and without any great fa
I know that I ask a great thing, but I tigue. It was not until Otter was seen
know also that you Englishmen can do stemming a heavy current that bis vast
great things when you are well paid. strength could be measured. Here indeed
Strive to help me, and you shall have your his stunted stature was of positive advan
reward. Ay should you fail and llvo I tage, for it offered the less surface for the
can still give you a reward—not much water to act upon.
On the eighth night of their journey
perhaps, but more than you ever earned.”
“Nevermind the reward now, mother,” they halted on the crest of a high moun
said Leonard testily, for the veiled sar tain. The moon had set, and it was im
casm of Soa’s speech had stung him, “un possible to go farther. Moreover, they
less, indeed, you can cure me of the fe were weary with long marching. Wrap
ping themselves in their blankets, for here
ver,” he added, with a laugh.
“I can do that,” she answered quietly. the air was piercing cold, they lay down
beneath the shelter of some bushes to sleep
"Tomorrow morning I will cure you.”
"So muoh the better,” he said, with an till dawn. It was Otter who woke them.
incredulous smile, “and now of your wis ‘Look, baas,” he 6aid to Leonard, “we
dom tell me how am I to look for your have marched straight. There below us Is
mistress, to say nothing of rescuing her, the big river, and there, far away to the
when I do not know where she has been right, is the sea.”
That night they camped near the slave
taken to. Probably this nest of which the
Portugee talked is a secret place. How road, a Golgotha, covered at intervals with
the bones of slaves. It was a gloomy night
long has she been carried off?”
"This will be the twelfth day, lord. As for all, but at last the darkness passed,
for the nest, it is secret. That I have dis the sun shone out merrily, and the travel
covered. It is to your wisdom that I look ers arose, shook the night dew from their
hair and ate a scanty meal, for they must
to find it.”
Leonard mused awhile; then a thought busband such food as they had with them.
Thus they went on for the most part of
struck him. Turning to the dwarf, who
had been sitting by, listening to all that that day till toward evening they reached
was said in stolid silence, his great head a place where the particular canal that
resting upon his knees, he spoke to him they were following suddenly divided it
self into two, one branch running north
in Dutch:
“Otter, were you not once taken as a and one in a southerly direction.
“Which way, Otter?” asked Leonard.
slave?”
“Nay, baas, I know not. The water has
“Yes, baas, once, ten years ago.”
changed. There was no land here. The
“How was it?”
"Thus, baas. I was bunting on the canal went straight on.”
This was a serious matter, for one false
Zambezi with the soldiers of a tribe there.
It was after my own people had driven step in such a labyrinth meant that they
me out, because they said that I was too would be lost utterly. For long they de
ugly to bocomo their chief, as I was boru bated which stream to take, and at last
to be. Then the Yellow Devil, that same decided to try that on the left hand, which
man of whom the woman speaks, fell up Otter thought ran more nearly in the truo
on us with Arabs and took us to his place, direction. They had already started in
there to await the slave dhows. Ho was a pursuance of this advice when Soa, who
Etout man, horrible to see and elderly. liad hitherto remained silent, suggested
The day the dhows came in I escaped by that they should first go a little way down
swimming. All the others who remained the right hand stream on the chance of
alive were taken off in ships to Zanzibar. ” finding a clew. Leonard demurred, but
“Could you find your way to that place is the old woman seemed bent upon it he
yielded, and turning the canoe they pad-
again, Otter?”
“Yes, baas. It is a hard spot to find, died her some 300 yards in this new direc
for the path runs through morasses. More tion. As there was nothing to be seen,
over, the place is secret and protected by however, Otter began to put her about
water. All of us slaves were blindfolded again.
“Stay, white man,” said Soa, who had
during the last day’s march. But I workod
up my bandage with my nose—ah, my big been searching the surface of the water
nose served me well that day I—and with her keen eyes. “ What is that thing
watched tho path from beneath it, and yonder?" and she pointed to a clump of
Otter never forgets a road over which his reeds about 40 yards away, among which
feet have traveled; also I followed that some small white object was just discern
ible.
path back.”
“Feathers, Ithink,” Leonard answered,
“Could you find the spot from here?”
“Yes, baas. I should go along these “but we will go and see.” In another mo
mountains, ten days’ journey or more, till ment they were there.
“It is paper, baas," said Otter in a low
we struck the southernmost mouth of the
Zambezi, below Luabo. Then I should voice,” paper stuck on to a reed.”
“Lift it carefully,” answered Leonard
follow the river down a day’s journey.
Afterward, two more days through the in the same tone, for his anxiety was keen.
swamps, and we come to the place. But How came it that they found paper fixed
to a reed in such a place as this? Otter did
It is a strong place, baas, and there are so, laying It on the thwart of the canoe be
many men armed with guns in it. More fore Leonard, who, with Soa, examined it
over, there is a big gun ‘a by and by!’ ”
closely.
Again Leonard thought a moment.
“This is a leaf from the holy book in
Then he turned to Soa and asked: “Do which my mistress reads,” said the worn-
jou_ qpdorstandjjutfh? No? Well, I have an with convictlom “I know the shape of
it’well. She has torn the paper out and
fixed it on the reed as a sign to any who
might come after her.”
“It looks like it,” said Leonard. ‘That
was a good thought of yours to come up
here, old lady. ’ ’ Then he bent down and
read such verses as were still legible on
the page. They ran thus:
“For he has looked down from his sanc
tuary. Out of the heaven did the Lord
behold the earth.
“That he may hear the mournings of
such as are in captivity and deliver the
children appointed unto death.
“The children of thy servant shall con
tinue, and their seed shall stand fast in
thy sight.”
“Hum!” said Leonard to himself. “The
quotation seems very appropriate. If one
bad faith in omens now, a man might say
that this was a good one." And in his
heart be believed it to be so.
Another hour's journey brought them
to the point of the island along which
they had been traveling.
“Ah,” said Otter, “now I know the
path again. This is the right stream; that
to the left must be a new one. Had we
taken it we should have lost our way and
perhaps have found it no more for days
or not at all.”
“Say, Otter,” said Leonard, “you es
caped from this place. How did you do it
—in a boat?”
“No, baas. The baas knows that I am
strong. My spirit who gave me ugliness
gave me strength also to make up for it,
and it is well, for bad I been beautiful as
you are, baas, and not very strong. I
should have been a slave now or dead.
With my chained hands 1 choked him who
set to watch me and took his knife. Then
by my strength I broke the irons. See,
baas, here are the scars of them to this
day. When I broke them, they cut into
my flesh, but they were old irons that had
been on many slaves, so I mastered them.
Then as others camo to kill me I threw
myself into the water and dived, and they
never saw me more. Afterward I swam
all this way, resting from time to time on
the islands and from time to time running
along the shore where the reeds were not
too thick, till at length I escaped into the
open country. I traveled four days to
reach it, and most of that time I was in
the water.”
“And what did you feed on?”
“Roots and the eggs of birds.”
“And did not the alligators try to eat
you?”
“One did, baas, but I am quick in the
water, I got upon the alligator’s back—
ah, my spirit was w’ith me then!—and
drove the knife through his eye into his
brain. Then I smeared myself over with
the blood of the alligator, and after that
they did not touch me, for they know the
smell and thought that I was their broth
er. ”
“Say, Otter, are you not afraid of going
back to this place?”
“Somewhat, baas, for there is that hell
you white people talk of. But where the
baas goes there I can go also. Otter will
not linger while you run; also, baas, I
am not brave—no, no, yet I would look
upon that Yellow Devil again, yes, if I my
self must die to do it and kill him with
these hands. ”
Aud the dwarf dropped the paddle,
screaming, “Killhim, kill him, kill him!”
so loudly that the birds rose in affright
from the marshes.
“Be quiet, you fool!” said Leonard an
grily. “Do you want to bring the Arabs
on us?”
But to himself he thought that he should
be sorry for Pereira, alias the Yellow
Devil, if once Otter found a chance to fly
at his throat.
The next day, about an hour before sun
set, they came to the nest of the Yellow
Devil. The nest was placed thus: It stood
upon an island which may have covered
in all four or five acres of ground. Of this
area, however, only about 2S acres were
available for a living space. The rest was
a morass hidden by a growth of very tall
reeds, which, starting from a great lagoon
on the northern and eastern sides, ran up
to the low inclosure of the buildings that
on these faces, were considered to bo suffi
ciently defended by the morass and the
wide waters beyond. On the southern and
western aspects, however, matters were
very different, for here the place was
strongly fortified both by art and nature.
Firstly, a canal ran round these two faces,
not very wide or deep indeed, but impass
able, except in boats, owing to the soft
mud at its bottom. On the farther side of
this canal an earthwork had been con
structed, having its crest stoutly palisaded
and its sides planted with a natural de
fense of aloes and prickly pears.
So much for the exterior of the spot. Its
interior was divided into throe principal
inciosures. Of these three the easternmost
was tho site of the nest Itself, a long, low
thatched building of wood, in front and
to the west of which there was an open
spaco, or courtyard, with a hard floor,
wherein were but two buildings—a shed,
supported on posts and open from the
eaves to the ground, where sales of slaves
were carried on, and farther to the north,
almost continuous with the line of tho
nest itself, but separate from it, a small
erection, very strongly built of brick and
atone, and having a roof made from the
tin linings of ammunition and other cases.
This was a magazine. All round this in
closure stood rows of straw huts of a na
tive build, evidently occupied as a camp
by the Arabs and half breed slave traders
of the baser sort.
The second Inclosure, which wns to the
west of tho nest, comprised the slave
camp. It may have covered half an acre
of ground. The only buildings in it were
four low sheds similar in every respect to
that where the slaves were sold, only
much longer. Here the captives lay pick
eted in rows to iron bars whloh ran the
length of the eheds and were fixed into
the ground at either end. This camp was
separated from the nest lnclosuro by a
doep canal 80 feet in width and spanned
at one point Dy a slender and primitive
drawbridge that led across the canal to
the gate of the camp; also it was protected
on the nest side by a low wall and on the
slave camp side by an earthwork, planted,
as usual, with prickly pears. On this
earthwork near the gate and little guard
house a six pounder cannon was mounted,
the muzzle of which frowned down upon
the slave camp, a visible warning to its
occupants of the fate which awaited the
(reward. Indeed all the defenses of this
part of the island were devised as safe
guards against a possible emeute of the
slaves.
Beyond the slave camp lay the garden
that could only be approached through it.
It also was fortified by water and earth
works, but not so strongly.
Such is a brief description of what was
in those days the strongest slavehold in
Africa.
CHAPTER V.
The road which Leonard and his com
panions were following led them to the
edge of the main and southernmost canal,
debouching exactly opposite the water
gate that gave access to tho nest. But
Otter did not venture to guide them to
this point, for there they would be seen by
tho sentries, and, notwithstanding their
masquerade dress, awkward questions
might be asked which they could not an
swer. So when they had arrived within
500 yards of the gato he struck off to the
left into the thick bush that clotbed the
hither side of the canal. Through this
they crawled as best they might till finally
they halted near the water’s edge, almost
at the southwest angle of the slave camp
and under the shadow of a dense clump of
willows.
“See, baas,” said the dwarf in a low
voice, “the journey is accomplished, and I
have brought you straight, bonder is the
house of the Yellow Devil. Now it re
mains only to take it, or to rescue tho
maiden from it.”
Leonard looked at the place in dismay.
How was it possible that they—two men
and a woman—could capture this fortified
camp, filled as it was with scores of the
most wicked desperadoes in Africa? How
was it possible even that they could obtain
access to it? Viewed from far off, the
thing had seemed small—to be done some
how But now I And yet they must do
something, or all their labor would be in
vain, and the poor girl they came to res
cue must be handed over to her shameful
fate, or, if she chose it in preference and
could compass the deed, to self murder.
“How on earth?” said Leonard aloudj
To be Continued.
SUMMONS.
In the circuit court of the state of Oregon in
the county of Yam it i II.
Ida May. Plaintit!. |
vs.
A. V. May. Defendant. I
To A. V. May. tile above named defendant
N the name of the state of Oregon you are here
by required to appear and answer the com
plaint tiled agaiiid von in tile aiane-eutitled suit
on or liefore the 25th day of March. A. D lass,
that la-ing the fourth Monday in Marell and the
first day of the next regular term of said court
next after the service of this summons in' publi
cation thereof as by law provided and if von fail
to answer for want thereof the plaintiff will apply
to the above-named court tor the relief praved for
in the complaint tiled in said court in the above
entitled suit, tiewit:
For a decree dissolving and annulling the
marriage contract now existing between the said
plaintiff and said defendant and for the care and
custody of Ethelbert. a male minor child of said
plaintiff and defendant agist five years, and for
such otherand further relief as the plaintiff may
be entitled to in equity and good conscience.
This summons is published by order of the Hon
H. H. Hewitt, judge of said court, said order
made at chambers at Albany, Oregon, and bears
date (lie 11th dav of .hinuan . A. 1'. lse.‘>.
W.T. VINTON.
C C. LINDEN.
Attorneys for Plaintiff.
I
SHERIFF'S SALE
In the circuit court of the »tale of Oregon tor
Yamhill county.
The Mutual Benefit Life Insurance)
Company (a corporation) plain- i
tie,
vs.
Levina A. Watt, John L. Watt, Ar
lington B. Watt, L. R. Watt, his
wife, Earl Bryant Watt, W. L.
Elwood, Mary Carrie Watt. W.
L. Boise, Administrator, and the
County of Yamhill, defendants ,
1» Y virtue of an execution, judgment order and
> decree ami order of sal«* out of ami under
the seal of the circuit court of the state of Oregon
for the county of Yam hill, to me duly directed,
dated the 22d day of January, A. I). 1895, u|»on a
judgment and decree rendered and entered on
the 25th day of September, 1894, in favor of The
Mutual Benefit Lite Insurance Com panv (a corpo
ration) nlaintitt, and against the defendant Levi
na A. Watt, for the sum of &5b5,36, with interest
thereon at the rate of ten per cent per annum
from September 25th, 1894, and the further sum of
9250.00 attorneys’fees, and tho further sum of
978.00, with interest thereon at the rate of eight
per cent per annum from June 20tb, 1894, and the
further sumof $31.10 cost« and disbursements,
and also the costs of and upon said writ, and or
dering the sale of the hereinafter described real
property, 1 did on the 22d day of January, 181'5,
duly levy upon all the right, title ami interest
which the said defendants or either of them had
on the first day of February, 1890, (the date of the
mortgage of the plaintiff) or has since had, as
in said decree adjudged, in and to the following
described real property, to-wit:
The donation land claim of William R. Mc
Carty and wife, Notification uuiubered 1702, locat
ed in Yamhill and Polk counties, Oregon, and
being in township number six (6) south, range
number four i 4 i w»“-i o: the Willamette meridian
(except two hundred and forty (240) acres oil of
the south side of said claim, being all the land
in Polk county) the land intended to be mort
gaged by this instrument bring all that part of
said donation land claim which lies in \amhill
county, and containing
?0 acres more or less.
Nou therefore, by virttue of said execution,
judgment order and decree and order of sale,
and in pursuance of the commands of said writ,
I will on Saturday, the 2d day of March, A D.
1895, at the hour of one o’clock p. in. of said day.
at the court hoii-<-in the city of McMinn
ville, Yamhill county. Oregon, sell subject to re
demption, at public auction to the highest bidder
for cash in hand, all the right, title and interest*
which the above named defendants or either oi
them had on the first day of February. 1890. or
have since had in or to the above dew ribed real
propertv. to satisfy said execution, judgment or
der and decree, interest and costs.
Dated at McMinnville. Oregon. January 29th,
1895.
W G. HENDERSON,
Sheriff of Yamhill County. Oregon.
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