The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa on December 5, 1894 · Page 7
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The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa · Page 7

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, December 5, 1894
Page 7
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6! tAflftbf ^MJfft K*166p OA tbd velf&itf S flat is fti. tediftd ftft*6f ift he* hand, *P|ftt&I smbtetn of f&nlt ftrid command, neraldle 6f kdy and lord. ffcal ts h6* fefotfeet asleep at hw side- fi$ i« & dufee, and hi<i little red band es the ragged old rope that is tied e etfftrrf 6f Rover, the iratdd- tfee nero of Lullaby Land. out of the water and walk: play -marbles -in -Lullaby -Land; RibbltS tlse up on the pi-aMe and talk; SHnfcs go forward and giggle and gawk— chatter*, and all understand. , Aifot awhile he wilt sail on the S6*» , v little red duke. on the prairie as'eep Biting the shot and this shell, he shall l>9 Admiral, fighting tor you and for me, ; iTlyhu the flai o'er the dangerous deep. toown at the Lido, where billows ate blue, Back through the vineyards to Plorenoa and Rome. That Is our ducheis whom both of us knew; That 4s her husbund.i So tender and true, Taking her far from her babyhood homa Ghlldren at play on the prairie to-day •• Bifavftly to-morrow will enter the race, Tfustlflg the future whose promise j say, "Cteurajo ahd effort will work out ft way— fortune and fame are not matters of place " — MoClUro's Magazine. A Passive Crime, DUCHESS." Mi' CHAPTER IX— But she does not speak.< Twice her lips move as though she would unwillingly have given voice to some thought, but np articulate sound escapes her. Presently she lifts her sad eyes to his as if in mute reproach, and then two tears gather within them slowly, and. as slowly fall one by ene dpwn her pale cheeks. "Dick, comb liere,'" says Mrs. Keville, nervously, her voice trembling. He-obeys her. Pressing Maud's cold hands he shall wait whispers hurriedly, "I forever." And then goes back to Mimi's side. - i "If -you mean to defy me in this matter," says Penruddock, who has overheard him, "you can take the consequences on y.ouv own head, and you know very well what those -consequences will be., Hence 1 forth you and I shall be strangers, ahd' I will do my best to forget' that I ever had a son. But I warn you that such mad marriages bring only grief and disgrace in their train." "There shall be neither grief nor disgrace through me," says Maud, faintly. She is still standing, and has her hand on tho back of her chair as though to .support herself. "If "is" 'the first time," goes on Penruddock,' remorselessly. .not heeding the heart-broken interruption, "that a blot or stain has fallen on our house or name!" - '"Silence, sir," cries Dick, furiously turning upon him; but no more can be said on ei't'lier side, for at that instant the attention of all is turned upon the door, just inside which, tjfpon the threshold, Esther stands, ' w.ith one arm extended, as if she 'would demand silence.. There is some thing- in hot- -whole attitude arid demeanor that is remarkably striking, and which engenders fear and expectation in every costly lace. It would be diffioulUn- deed, an impossible matter to decide which is the loveliest, this dead toother or the living daughter. As the extraordinary likeness dawns upon Penruddock, he is completely ovet-powered, turns aside his head and groans aloud. Above even the startling resemblance to her mother he sees in the grown girl the features of the little girl so cruelly, though passively, , done to death. Again the whole terrible scene in the cottage garden flashes before him; again he Watches With cold persistency, until the tiny heiress meets, as he supposes then, and has until now believed, With her death. Ho throws up his hands as if to fling from him a hateful vision, and turns fiercely upon Esther. "It is a lie!" he exclaims loudly— "a cleverly-concocted scheme; ^ but it shall not avail you much. It is an old story. Accidental likenesses have been tried before this, but an imposture always comes to the light." "Always! Yes, .there you are right," returns Esther With deep meaning. Maud, White as an early snowdrop, is clinging to Mrs. Neville, who has her.arm avound her. Dick at a little distance, is listening with intense excitement, to the strange revelation now being made. Who ever saw the child again?" says Penruddock. "She was Washed out to sea. All inquiries were made. No stone left unturned to discover her; but it was too late. There was no one, not a living being, in sight when it .occurred; no one saw the fatal accident." "There you are mistaken. Two saw it,' 1 says Esther, solemnly. "You and I." "I wag' not present, saw nothing of it!" says Penruddock. hoarsely, t The. around -seems slipping .beneath"his feet. His parched lips seem barely able to'form his words, • and with difficulty he supports him"self. • • "You were present!" says the wo- ,man relentlessly- "You stood inside the library window, and I saW'.v9u there,- crouched as I was in the bushes at the other side of the river!" In the bushes?" stammers Penruddock. "Yes; I had come to get a glimpse of my darling at her play, and watched you as with greedy eyes, you waited till the child crept, nearer and nearer to her death." Fearful now is the 'expression on the countenance of the wretched man. "Without a word, of warning, without one attempt to save the innocent life left to your charge by a dying brother, you looked with a cruel long-'in'g to see her perish!" "'Tis false!" Penruddock with great difficulty contrives to say. "Though you never touched her, though the .crime was a passive one, there was murder in your heart that day, as surely as you are shivering here before us all!" "It is'all a fabrication!" says Pen- breast.- ' The of all are flxed'on. her , as shp cpmes slewly up the ropm, her tall, majestic figure clothed in black, ahd di ; awn'up te its"f"ull height. Her manner, is expressive, pf mystery and long-supp'ress'ed excitement ' -Of all present, in, the repm, Mrs. NevyVe; alone ppssesses'aclueite U'er thpu'gbfts. 'Silently and -slowly she advances until she has reached Penruddock. Here she 1 comes to a standstill, and^ confronts him with . gleaming eyes and parted lips."No blot, no stain Upon your bouse or name? You daresay that! Have you lost all mempry of the past? Does your conscience never , s speak?" she repeats, mockingly. "Is murder ho crime? • Hav'e' a care, • Penruddpok!- -And-answer me, ifypu *dai*e, this question—Where" is the , child Hilda?" ,.' "Penruddook starts back, his face •growing livid. Yet only for an instant does be .-lose bis seif-cpntrol; .rallying by a mighty effort,' be says, -'glaring savagely at Esther, "This woman, this fanatic lives, but to tor- m,ent me! Leave the room,. I com- mand'you. Your idle ravings have nothing whatever tp. do with ^ub'jeot we are now discussing'.'gone, at once, or I will foijce Be» pays, not pointing towai'd a-4ing Bterrily on, you! Where heiress 'ruddocfc feebly, wiping his forehead Thejn, ho glances, in a , stealthy fashion, at his k spn — the bpy for whq'm this horrible thing has been pp'mmitted—tp see if there be cpn- 'de'mnatien in his Ippks. "Dick,,do not believe, it!" he says, 'in a tone of honest agony. He looks so old, so broken that Dick is touched,-- and "going' up to him, places his arm areund his nock. ' "I believe npthing against ypu, father," he says,.tende,rly; "be sure pf that. But • pray opntrpl ypurself, and let Esther,'tell her stoi»y.'-' . ' i'When the, deed was' done and the fatal plunge .'.taken, ,y'ou rushed te the water's edge," goes on Esther, whe declines tp address anypne but Penruddpck, glpating over the fact that he plainly cowers beneath he,' glance, <»Buteven then at the last moment, a strong; desire to save did not ppssess you. Ha$ 'you pursued ypur searph in. the bend in the river, bidden bythe'drppping .alders, ypu wpuld- have 'seen the little figure u'papiog"" onward whilst battling feebly ' with the . stream. , Ypu w$uld have seen me running alpng v thfl,.bank in. wild pursuit; and you would, have seen, too, the poor child drawn frpm the water by Gilbert gaumarez." • n ' • 'Gilbert Saumareg! He?" exclaims In the utmost surprise, be was. a guest at the vicar- at that' time, as you, Penrud" may remember, But ho shall himself tell his own story," She 'beckons with her, hand, and Saumarev who 'has plaialy been waiting in tbe-aute'reoin, on reeeiv' 1 ing that sijrnal,, comes up to them, Captain Saumare^ tell us all you can of tbis 'strange. tale/' entreats 4rs. Neville with falte.PiRg aooenti. • 'Vl'have very little to tell; but it's gays §auJn,are.z, after at Maud's pale face, dQWft., upon ifeV dav t 'the J4th 9t W J. BW44e«Jy 0 town. Four cla?s started for India, Where, as you all mow very well, I remained for years." But you knew Maud—you recognized her in town!" asks t Mfs. Nev- lle, in great agitation. A suspicion of shame crosses Saumarez's face, darkening it for a moment. Yes, last year," unwillingly,. "I called here one day, and Esthef passed through the hall as I entered. 1 knew her at once, and asked for the child. She was, 1 think, about to deny all knowledge of her, when Miss—Miss Penruddock, with whom I Was not acquainted at that time, came out of some room, and looking me full in the face for an instant, passed on. Her wonderful likeness to her mother, who was well known to me, struck me at once. I had heard of the adoption by Mrs. Neville of some strangely pretty child, and, as if by inspiration, the truth occurred to me. 1 accused Esther of it, and she at once, taken off her guard, confessed all." "Then why did you not immediately speak?" detiiand's Dick, coolly. "It was no business of mine," responds tho other shrugging his shoulders. "But, surely, you might have spoken," says Dick; "and it seems remarkable that you did not." "No doubt, I should, sometime or other, have mentioned the circumstance, only that the woman had implored me to keep silence; saying that she had waited for years to have revenge on some one; and I really thought it a pity to spoil the plan; ning and plotting,that hfid.laste.d,for so Ipng.'' "iTot you made love to my nieco, knowing all that you did," says Mrs.' Neville, gravely. '/.In that matter, madam, T acknowledge,' I erred," says Sauinarez, llff.huly, though he bites his lip. '"'Bii't all is fair in love and war. I wooed her as a' girl' over whom a cloud rested, knowing her in my heart t'o bo an heiress; and of 'irreproachable birth. : "- 'Nay, hear the exact'truth;" ho-says' with a somewhat' reckles's laugh. '"I-am not • so rich as ; the world deems me; and thought'if I could win Miss Neville, I- might afterward 'prove her to be Miss Pehrud- dock, and so secure her fortune. .But I failed. At first I thought only of the money -to which .she was entitled; but now, always, 1 shall think that, were she pennilless and unknown, the.,man who gains her .love will be richer than any soul on earth. . You believe me, I am sure?" he adds, turning abruptly and most unexpectedly, to Hilda"Yes; 1 believe, you," she, says,; earnestly; and then—very sweetly,, struck by tho extreme melancholy of his expression—she comes a few steps nearer to him and, holds out her hand. He takes it, presses his lips to it, hastily but fervently, and without another word quits the room. "It is^I plainly see, an unnecessary question; but for all that, I will ask if you have quite made up your mind that this ridiculous story is true?" denjands Penruddock, angrily, addressing his son. upon whose countenance no disbelief can be read. "Quite!" says Diclc, readily, who has forgotten to think of anything beyond the fact that the stigma attached to Hilda's birth has , been removed. . .,» "Then you acknowledge her?" '• "As my cousin? Yes, certainly." "Ttieu, a$ certainly, you are a beggar!" says Penruddock, with, a harsh laugh. The young man starts as if shot, and puts his hand to his forehead. For the first time he re'aliaes what all this may mean to him. By what right now shall he speak of love to the'woman who is all in all to him, whose image occupies his heartf Their positions are now reversed; she 1 is the possessor of land and fortune; he is now the lonely outcast. [TO BE CONTINUED.] SIEGE 0# ttfCRNOW. Bought from a weilunder the tHERE CMRfStlAM MAfttVR- DOM WAS TRIED. . fftlmftge tses the Heroisms »* tfct Kcsldfency ft* the Subject of the Flral of Ittft Sefmons on ttl* TttltfeU Around the tVorld. NPV. 25, 1894.—Rev. Dr. Talmage to-day began his series of round the World sermons through the press, the first subject selected being Lucknow, India. The text chosen Was: Deuteronomy 20:19: "When thou shalt besiege a city a long time in making war against it to take it, thou shalt n6t destroy the trees thereof by forcing fan ax against them. The awfulest thing in war is besiege^ ttient, for to the work of deadly weapons it adds hunger and starvation attd plague, Besiegement is sometimes necessary, but my text commands mercy even in that. The fruit trees must be spared because they afford food for man. "Thou shalt not destroy the trees thereof by forcing an ax 'against them." But in my recent journey round the world I found at Lucknow, India, the remains of the most merciless besiegement of the ages, and I proceed to tell you that story for four great reasons: to show you what a horrid thing war is and to make you all advocates for peace: to show you what genuine Christian character is under bombardment: to put a coronation on Christian courage: and to show you how splendidly good people die. As our train glided into the dimly PROVIDING FOR THE FUTURE. Sir, Gu'jnby Did Not Mean to He I-.oft ' In the Lurch Again, Mr, and Mrs. • Gumby live out pf town, which makes it incumbent on 'Mr, Guraby, when it is necessary to secure a new cook, tp gp. tp the agency in town himself and arrange for pne that he thinks may answer the purppse. It is npthing to the discredit of Mr, Gumby tp say that bis visits tq, the agency have been .somewhat frequent, says Harper's Magaaine, for a good oookjWhp will stay in the country is almost an unknown quantity. One evening not long since, Mr. Guroby having paid bis periodical viaic to the agency, M PS - Guwby was on enteuing f the 'to find ' three dignified sitting there ,in a vow. Hastily gpjng into the library, where was ' seaped, (She ex« > 'Heary, what in the world <JQ you m ean by getting three opotesP" >»j thought it was the,beet thing tQ PH °eB| that J lighted station, I asked the guard, "Is this Lucknow?" and he answered, '"Lucknow;" at the pronunciation of which proper name strong emotions rushed through body, mind and soul. The word is a synonym of suffering, of cruelty, of heroism, of horror such as is suggested by hardly any other words •• We have for thirty-five years been reading of the agonies there endured and the daring deeds there witnessed. It was my -great desire to have some one who had witnes^e'd the scenes transacted in Lucknow in 1857 conduct us over the place. We found just the man. He was a young soldier at the time the greatest mutiny of the ages broke 'out, and he was put with others inside the Residency, which was a cluster of buildings making a fortress in which the representatives of the English government lived, and which was tp be the scene of an endurance and a bombardment the story of which, poetry, and painting, and history, and secular and sacred eloquence have been trying to depict. Our escort not only had a good memory -of what had happened, but had talent enough to rehearse the tragedy. In the early part of 1857 all over India the natives were ready to break out in rebellion against all foreigners, and especially against the civil -and military representatives of the English ^government. ' . A half dozen causes are mentioned for the feeling of discontent and insurrection that was evidenced throughout India. The most of these causes were mere pretexts. Greased cart- tridges were no 'doubt an exasperation. The' grease ordered by the English government to be used, on these cartridges,.was taken from cows or pigs, and grease to the Hindoos is unclean, andJto bite these cartridges at the loading of the guns would be an offense to the" Hindoos' religion. 'The leaders of the Hindoos said that these greased cartridges were only -part of an attempt by the English government to make the natives give up their religion;'hence unbounded indignation was aroused. • ' • •• • Another' cause of the. mutiny, was that another large province,, ,of India had been Annexed tp the British empire, and .thousands pf officials, in the employ of the king of th'aj/ 'province were thrpwn out of position, and they were all ready for'trouble making; Another cause was said to' 'be'the bad government exercised by some English officials in India. The simple fact was 1 that th'e natives of India are a conquered race, 1 and the English were the conquerors.. 'For 100 years the English sceptre had been waved over India, and the Indians wanted to break that sceptre, , There never had been any love or sympathy between the natives of India and the Europeans-, there is npne nbw, Befpre tlie time pf the great- mutiny the English government risked 'much power in the hands of the natives, Tpo many of them manned the fprts. Too many of them were in governmental employ, And now the time had come fpr a wide putbreal?. The natives bad persuade^ themselves that they eouW send the English government flying, an& to' Accomplish it dagger, an^ sword, an4 firearms, anil wutilatipni &nd slaughter must do their worjti ' , Jt, was,- evident in kuelsnav that the natives were about to,rise .&M put to, death, aW the EU.) T lay JheU^hands oni and £ejj?y the Christian ,.„.,. hastened toy delete^•fro.m in,h'u.m$n fer» Which'-were, for th§ir Yiotjm.6/ The Qcpu» the SR^ifleRcy >~ J -- i fire, eo that the water obtained was at the price of blood; the stench of the dead horses added to the effiavia of corpses, and all waiting for the moment when the army of 60,000 shrieking Hindoo devils should break in tipon the garrison of the Residency; now reduced by wound's and sickness and death to $>70 men, Women and children. "Call me early," 1 said, "to-morrow morning, and let us be at the Residency before the sun becomes too hot." At 7 o'clock in the morning we left our hotel in Lucknow, and 1 said to out- obliging, gentlemanly escort, "Please take us along the road by which Havelock and Outram Came to the relief of the Residency*" That was the way we went. There was a solemn stillness as we approached the gate of the Residency. Battered and torn is the masonry of the entrance. Signature of shot, and punctuation of cannon ball, all up and down and everywhere. "Here to the left," said our escort, "are the remains of a building the first floor of which in other days had been used as a banqueting hall, but then was used as a hospital. At this part the amputations took place, and all such patients died. The heat was so great and the food so insufficient that the poor fellows could not recover from the loss of blood; they all died. Amputations were performed without chloroform. All the anesthetics were exhausted. A fracture that in other climates and under other cii'cumstances would have come to easy convalescence, here proved fatal. Yonder was Dr. Fayrer's house, who was surgeon of the place, and is now Queen Victoria's doctor. This upper room was the officers' room, and there Sir Henry Lawrence, our dear commander, was wounded. While he sat there a shell struck the room, and some one suggested that he had better leave the room, but he smiled and said, 'Lightning never struck twice in the same place.' Hardly had he said this when another shell tore off his thigh, and he was carried dying into Dr. Fayrer's house on the other side df the road. Sir Henry Lawrence had been in poor health for a long time before the mutiny. He had been in the Indian service for years and he had started for England to recover his health, but getting as far as Bombay, the English government requested him to remain at least for a while, for he could not be spared in such dangerous times. He came here to Lucknow, and foreseeing the siege of this Residency had filled many of the rooms with grain, without which the Residency would have been obliged to surrender. There were also taken by him into this Residency rice, and sugar, and charcoal, and fodder for the oxen and hay for the horses. But now, at the time when all the people were looking to him for wisdom and courage, Sir ; Henry is dying." Our escort describes the scene, unique, tender, beautiful and overpowering, and while I stood Ton the very spot where the sighs and groans of the besieged, and lacerated, and brokenhearted met the whizz of bullets and the demoniac hiss o f bursting shell, and the roar • of batteries, my escort gave me the partipulars. As soon as "Sir Henry was told that he had not many hours to live he asked the chaplain to administer to him the holy communion. He felt particularly anxious for the safety of the women in the Residency- ,who,' at any moment, might be subjected to the savages'w.b9 howled' around tlie Residency, their only a matter of time, unless reinforcements should come, He wpuld frequently,'say to those who surrounded his death couch, 'SaVe the ladies.. God held -the poor women and children!' He gave directions for the desperate defense' of the place. He asked forgiveness of all those whom: he 'might unintentionally have ' neglected, or offended, .'He left a message for all his friends. He forgot not to give direction for the care of his favorite horse. He charged the officers, saying, 'By no means surrender, Make no treaty PI- compromise with the desperadoes. . Die-fighting,' He took charge pf • the asylum he had established for the children of soldiers, He gave directions ,for his burial, saving, 'No nonsense, no fuss. Let me be buried with the men.' He dictated his own epitaph, which I read above his ionjh; 'Here lies Henry Lawrence, who tried tp do , his duty. May the Lord have mercy on bis. soul/ He said, 4 I wpuld like to have a passage pf Scripture added to thew'prds on my grave, sueb as; 'To, the Lord'' onv Gpd belong mercies and fprgivenessps, though we have rebelled against him' —isn't it from Daniel? So as brave a man as England or India ever saw, expired. The soldiers lifted the cove? from bis face and kissed him before they .carried him out. The chaplain pfl!ere4 ft prayer, . Then they the great hero amid the rattling of the gung and put him down among Pth 6 * 1 soldiers buried at the same time," ^11 £1 which I state for the, benefit ,,af those 'who would have us. bf" neatly n>6 taontliS ttAt %he^ ^981 break in. You must re«enWe*f ~ was 1,600 against 66,600, and f»" -, the latter part of -the tifttt it was 9<X> against 60,000, afttt the Residency and the earthworks around it were not put up for such aft attack. It was only from the mertej of God that we were not massadred soon after the besiegetaent. We wer« resolved not to allow ourselves to get into the hands of those desperadoes* You must remember that we and all the women had heard of the butchery at CaWnpore, and we knew what d&* feat meant. If unable to hold out anj? longer we would have blown ourseltea up, and all gone out of life together." "Show me," I said, "the rooms where the women and children staid during those awful months/' Then wd crossed over and went down into the cellar of the Residency. With a shudder of horror indescribable I entered the cellars where 622 women and children had been crowded until the whole floor was full. I knew the ex* act number, for I counted their names on the roll. As one of the ladies wrote in her diary—speaking of these women, she said: "They lay upon the floof fitting into each other like bits in a puzzle." Wives had obtained from their husbands the promise that the husbands would shoot them rather than let them fall into the bands of these desperadoes. The women within the Residency were kept on the smallest allowance that would maintain, life. No opportunity of privacy. The death angel and the birth afcgel touched wings as they passed. Flies, mosquitoes, vermin in full possession- of the place, and these women in momentary expectation that the enraged savages Would rush upon them, in a violence of which club,and sword, and torch, and throat cu uting would be the milder forms. Our escort told us again and again of the bravery of these women. They did not despair. They encouraged the soldiery. The waited on the wounded and dying in the hospital. They gave up their stockings for holders of grape , shot. They solaced each other when their children died. When a husband or father fell such prayers of sympathy- were offered as only women can offer. They endured without complaint. They prepared their own children for burial. They were inspiration for the men who stood at their posts fighting; till they dropped. Our escort told us that again and again news had come that Havelock and Outram were on the way to fetch, these besieged ones out of their wretchedness. They had received a letter from Havelock rolled up in a quill and carried in the mouth of a disguised messenger, a letter telling them he was on the way,., but the next news was that Havelock had been compelled to retreat. It was constant vacillation between hope and despair. But one day they heard the guns of relief sounding nearer and nearer. Yet all the houses of Lucknow were fortresses filled -with armed miscreants, and every step of Havelock and his army was contested—firing from house tops; firing from windows; firing from doorways. "Show us where they came in!" I exclaimed, for I knew that they did not enter through the gate of the Residen- 1 cy, that being banked up inside to keep the murderers out. "Here it is," , answered the escort, "Here it is—the embrasure'-thipugh which they came." We walked up to the spot. It is now a broken down pile of bricks a dozen.- yards from the gate. Long grass now, but then a blood-spattered, bullet- scarred opening in the wall. * As we stood there, although the, scene was thirty-seven years ago, -I •„, saw them come jn; Havelock, pale and ;, sick, but triumphant; and Outram, ' •whom all the equestrian statues in Cal- ,'\ cutta and Europe can not too grandly,'; present. , i- v "What theni happened?" I said tomyj,' nr,^t "TRVi.'» lV« Kfn'fl. *'that is imnosV ' , was; escort. "Eh, n be said, "that is imposV f sible to tell. The earth was rei from the gate and soon • all the of relief, entered, and some of laughed, and some cried, and som^i prayed and some danced. Higblandersp; BO dust-covered' and enough blood wounds on their faces to make unreqognizable, snatched the put of their mpfchers' arms and them,, and passed tjie babies other spldiers to, kiss, and men crawled ont of the jpin in the cheering, and it" jubilee, until the first passed, the stpry of ,hpxv advancing army ha4 been j way began tP have .fearful the story of suffering tha^' endured inside'the fpyt,. and,;'' 4 ., s , w nonncepaent to children thfyt thfy^| fatherless', and to wivfs ttet jfojfcjnf widpw&, submerged the r 1 -'— x - -' <HBj$ weye 5 the arrival ,o|E whp brought* n< ansVe^, "Of > im

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