The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hidden Cabin: a pathetic story in condensed form This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: The Hidden Cabin: a pathetic story in condensed form Author: David W. Edwards Release date: August 8, 2021 [eBook #66008] Language: English Credits: Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIDDEN CABIN: A PATHETIC STORY IN CONDENSED FORM *** THE HIDDEN CABIN THE HIDDEN CABIN A PATHETIC STORY IN CONDENSED FORM BY DAVID W. EDWARDS AUTHOR OF “BILLY BIRDSALL,” “UP THE GRADE,” ETC. COVER DESIGN, ZOLA AND ZIMBO BY DRURY VICTOR HAIGHT LOS ANGELES COMMERCIAL PRINTING HOUSE PUBLISHERS 1909 COPYRIGHT, 1909 BY DAVID W. EDWARDS ALL RIGHTS RESERVED THE STORY. The Legend of Palomar. The Hidden Cabin. Cedric Vaughn. Homer Lee. Lola Vail. The Voyage. The Mines. Ben Rubideaux. The Wedding. The Mystic Token. The Stolen Child. The Wanderers. In the Mountains. “Peg Leg,” the Miner. Gilbert. Zola and Zimbo. The Midnight Ride Gilbert’s Journey. Conclusion. AUTHOR’S NOTE Palomar Mountain is one of the grandest natural attractions of Southern California. It is more than a mile in height. From its lofty “look-outs” the beautiful bay of San Diego may be descried, and also the distant islands of Santa Catalina and San Clemente. It abounds with gushing springs, richly timbered table-lands, deep, rocky canyons, and rugged peaks. It is one of the favorite resorts of the writer, who has spent many pleasant hours in camp near the mysterious hidden cabin above the “snow white clouds,” in company with his friend, the Rev. John L. Pitner, D. D., to whom these lines are inscribed. D. W. E. BIMINI SPRINGS LOS ANGELES, CAL. PALOMAR. A mile above the ocean’s level brim Tow’rs Palomar, the monarch of the range. Along its western base are frostless hills With verdure crowned, and valleys green, where bloom And fruitage fill the air with sweet perfume. Green pastures, rich with herbage and bright flowers, Bedeck the eastern slopes which fall away A lone and weary desert land to meet; To meet a lone and weary desert land-- A rich and rocky land where mines of wealth Have slumbered long beneath its arid wastes. So stands in majesty this mountain grand Between the desert and the western sea. From ocean’s heaving breast, she upward sent A humid vapor, in the skies to meet And woo the softer breezes that ascend From off the heated earth at eventide. A gentle zephyr was at play among The cacti beds and yuccas tall, that lift Their spiny leaves and tufted fronds above The burning sands; she softly breathed a sigh, And floating upward in the milky way She met and wed the vapor from the sea; For each had found a true affinity. The moon withdrew and hid her face behind The distant isles; and from the blushing east A ray of sunlight came and kissed the bride. Together in the skies, these twain have wrought A mantle, soft as down, of spotless white; And often as the evening twilight falls, Or dewy morning sheds her purple tints, They come and spread it over Palomar. Thus runs the legend which has oft been told; And which the Indian maiden whispers low When snow white clouds hang over Palomar. THE HIDDEN CABIN. The rugged sides of Palomar are deep With canyons cleft, where raging floods have made Their downward path and held their course unchained. Beyond the eagle’s nest and rocky crag, Where giant arborvitaes throw their plumes Athwart the sky; and crystal waters cold And pure, come sparkling from a mountain spring; By bending boughs and tangled vines shut out From view, the hidden cabin stood; and there Today it stands, and there has stood unkept, In mystery wrapped, a hundred years or more Since its last tenant left it there alone. It stands where it was builded long ago; Yet not the same as in the days of old, For long disuse and winters’ storms and rain Have left their mark; but still enough remains To show that in the hands of him who built No joiner’s tools were held; divested of All metals with sharp edge save only axe And auger, which he plied with master hand To hew the timbers smooth, and cut and fit The doors and frames; and fitting, through these sent The auger’s teeth to clear the way for pins Of wood with which he made all fast and strong. A strange, pathetic story centers round This lonely spot; the story of a true And faithful soul who counted life best spent By those who strive to crucify the flesh, And emulate--as best poor mortal may-- The life of Him who lived and died for love; For love of those who loved and hated Him. CEDRIC VAUGHN. Classmates were Cedric Vaughn and Homer Lee. Cedric from the southland came, and in his Veins there flowed--tho’ mixed with Anglo-Saxon-- A trace of Montezuma blood, the same As that of those who met with sharpened steel The hosts of Cortez on the bloody plains Of Otumba. In the lightsome morning Of his happy youth, he saw that twain who Gave him life and love, with all his kindred, By savage hands _struck down_! struck down and flung Amid the blazing ruins of their home. With superhuman strength he stood beside His father ’till he fell; and then fought on Like wounded tiger, grimly courting death. Filled with pagan superstition, that wild Robber chief--when he saw brave Cedric’s blade Cleave skull and flesh, and break like slender reeds The spears of those who came upon him three To one--thought him protected by the gods And made immune to blows of mortal hands; Stricken with fear lest in revengeful wrath They turn on him, fell on his spear and died. Then the others fled and Cedric’s life was Spared. He, wand’ring aimless o’er the waste Scarce knowing where his footsteps led, came where Terraced hills sloped to a narrow harbor. He knew the place and knew his father had Been well known there and much respected for Fair dealing, when in trade he bought and sold; Not many days before, they together Had come down this dusty trail and returned With family stores. Sadly he walked on, his Poor heart bleeding at remembrance of those Happy hours now gone, when suddenly he Came upon the spot where they had rested By a spring and led their horses down; Here lay the branch his father’s hand had used To urge the horses on; and half trodden In the mold, and scattered round, the paper Which he had seen his mother’s loving hands Wrap ’round the food prepared by her for them. Now, for the first, he realized his loss. Upon the cold, damp bosom of the earth He laid his head and wept--alone! Beneath The bending skies and sighing boughs; no loving Hand upon his brow; no ear to hear the Groans that shook his iron frame; nor knew he How near in that dark hour the heart of Him Who suffered in the garden all alone Was bending down to his. The soul may weep And still the flesh demand its own: Too proud To eat the bread of charity, he sought And found employment in the mines. He worked With heavy heart, crushed for a time by dark Despair; and giving way to hunger for Revenge, he well-nigh fell; but when at last A kindly light broke thro’ the gloom of his Black night of grief, and he could say, “Thy will Be done”; in him awoke new life and hope And high resolve to make of his own life A memorial to them; and to strive To reach the measure of their highest hope. To this end he hoarded all his earnings, And with the salvage from the wreck of their Estate, went bravely forth, determined to Fulfill their wish so oft expres’d that he Might go away to school--they named the school-- The greatest in the northland, whence they hoped To see him come one day with cultured mind. HOMER LEE. Homer Lee was born and reared upon the Sacred ground where beacon lights were kindl’d On the hills, before the war that broke the Chains of monarchy and set this nation Free. His father owned ships and lands and Merchandise; and the son--the eldest born-- Had never known a wish ungratified. Albeit, he was not puffed up, or vain, Or churlish by over-much indulgence, For he was nurtured in the Quaker faith, And early taught to draw the line ’twixt Right and wrong; and measure men by what They _are_ and not by what they _have or say_. Unlike in all respects were Cedric Vaughn And Homer Lee, save in those noble traits Of character which make men strong and brave And true. Homer, lighter built and younger, But noted for his prowess--when he met The tall, dark, princely stranger from the south, As by the power of some magnetic chain Was strangely drawn to him. Touched by the kind Demeanor of this fair-haired, happy youth, Cedric’s heart went out to him. So, as the Years went by, between them grew a friendship Strong as that of Pythias and his friend. DORA LEE. Homer’s sister, Dora Lee, rejoiced at Their success, or wept when disappointment Crossed their path. Likewise, she shared in all their Happy leisure hours, when sailing on the Bay, or riding horseback o’er the hills. And When their united strength their pennant saved, The campus rang with shouts of victory And plaudits for the heroes of the day, She wept for joy. Dora Lee loved Cedric, But he knew it not nor dreamed that she whose Faithful heart could never love but one, Had consecrated that one love to him. Their college days were drawing to a close; And nearer came the day when these two friends Must each go out to meet the sterner life-- The one to fill the place prepared for him; The other, empty handed and alone. Their intercourse--to each a priceless boon-- Had ne’er been marred by shadow of distrust. A diamond careless thrown upon the sand, May change the gentle current of a stream. And so it chanced the even current of Their fellowship was broken. LOLA VAIL. Lola Vail,-- Her father, a rich planter, owned a vast Estate upon the banks of that great stream Which gathers up the waters of the land And sweeps them onward to the gulf. Half way To that strange southern land whence Cedric came Was Lola born--a schoolmate, friend and guest Of Dora Lee, and much like her; or as she Would appear with three more years of summers’ Sun to paint with ruddier glow the bloom of Health upon her cheek, and tint with deeper Gold her ample braids; in purity of Thought and loyalty, they also were alike. Lola’s mother died when she was young, and Her father, bringing home a Creole wife, Unwittingly neglected her; and thought His duty done when he provided for The child a nurse--an aged Octoroon-- A pious soul, who gave to Lola all The love she knew in her sweet childhood life; And filled the tender mind with holy thoughts And pure. And Lola daily gathered flowers And, weeping, laid them on her mother’s grave. When she was older grown, her father took Her to the north, she and her faithful nurse, To bide until she grew to womanhood. Her education finished, her father Called her home, but she begged to tarry, yet A few more days and visit with her friend. Thus it chanced to come about that Cedric Vaughn and Homer Lee met sweet Lola Vail And loved her, each in his own way--Cedric, With all the fervor of his sincere soul-- And Homer worship’d her, forgetting for The time his own betrothed. Cedric told her All, she sitting by his side in shady Bower, upon a wooded isle, their boat drawn Up below upon the pebbly beach. He Told the story of his life, as one a Painful duty would perform. “She must know The truth.” And keeping nothing back, he told Her of his birth and lineage--which was Equal to her own--his loss of home and Wealth; his lofty aspirations; high hopes Now partly realized, though penniless; But he was going back to that same land Where he had delved; and there would he employ The knowledge gained of placer, drift and ledge, And engineering, to locate and bring Forth rich treasure from the earth, and in a Few short years would he return with wealth and Build a costly home for her in some great City,--she might name the place. “Could she love Him? Would she wait for him?” She answered not By spoken word, but when she lifted her Fond eyes to his, he read the sweet response. By his strong arms encircled tenderly, Her head upon his breast, she wept for joy; And speaking through her tears: “Oh, leave me not, But let me share your lot whate’er it be-- A palace or a cot--I would leave all The world, my Cedric, dear, and go with thee.” But Cedric kindly told her of the place, Its roughness, the peons there; and frankly, But perhaps unwise, he spoke of dangers From the wild bandits. It was no place for One so sweet and gentle as his own dear Lola; it were better she obey her Father’s call. That day, a week, the ship that He expected her to take, would leave that Port. It would not be long; he would stop there On his way and see her father, speak to Him, as man to man should speak, all fair and honorable. The wisdom of his speech She saw and cheerful yielded to his will. With fervid kiss their pledges sealed, they sat In sweet converse till lengthening shadows called; Then spread their sail and shoreward set the prow Of their light craft. With rosy finger tips She swept the strings of her guitar and sang: “What fairy-like music steals over the sea, Entrancing the senses with calm melody? ’Tis the voice of the mermaid as she floats o’er the main, And mingles her notes with the gondolier’s strain.” Homer and his sister, waiting at the Mooring, by their merry laughter and love Glances, half concealed, each read their secret; And reading, saw the fading shadows of Their hope. Each concealed the pang; and laughing, Teased the truants for their tardiness. Then Timidly the lovers made confession. “And we will pray,” said Homer, “that to you Be given the fullness of all earthly Joy, and then the sweetest bliss of heaven.” Lola left them; and the three in silence Watched her waving from the deck; and saw the Good ship fading in the offing vanish, Where bending skies come down to meet the sea; Then sadly turned away--each heart, wounded By a shaft from Cupid’s bow; arrows from His quiver, unaimed, ofttimes fly amiss. Too high born and proud were Dora Lee And Homer to harbor in their minds dark Jealousies, or thoughts unkind; but Homer Was disconsolate; and Dora, cheering, Said: “You surely will forget your grief; and Going back to your first love will marry Her and love her evermore; for no true Heart can ever love but one.” So it was Her prophecy came true. Dora loved with Woman’s constancy; and womanlike found Comfort in the secret hope (while wishing Naught but good for Lola Vail), the idle hope That she one day would marry Cedric Vaughn. If in the spirit world departed ones Can see with joy a loved one plodding on, And faithful to the end, achieve at last The worthy object sought, then there was joy Above when Cedric led the class and gained The highest meed of praise for work well done. Cedric saw, or tho’t he saw, a shorter Way to competence than any of the Kindly offers of a place which, without His asking, came to him; a great law firm Wanted him; a professorship in that Same college he could have; in the counting House and busy marts of commerce there were Many op’nings for one as he so well Endowed and popular. He declined them All; and yet so gracefully, with thanks, that They were urged upon him all the more; but He had fixed his mind on going back, see Lola on his way, then hasten on to Carry out his plans; for each hour improved Would bring them nearer to their wedding day. On the morn of his departure, a throng Of gay young friends came, bearing tokens of Their friendship, souvenirs of college days, And bidding him God-speed upon his way. He keenly felt the sting of parting with His friends; but when he came to say good-bye To Homer, that was hardest of it all. When Dora gave the parting hand, and in Her large blue eyes he saw the gathering Tears, that tell-tale look of love she fain would Hide; that yearning look of hopeless love Like arrow pierced his soul with deep regret, And haunted him thro’ all the coming years. THE VOYAGE. With varying winds the good ship sailed thro’ Summer sea. At times translucent clouds were Flung across its way like twilight mists, and Then anon the sun burst forth. With lowering Winds and listless sail they drifted dreamily Beneath the turquoise skies. When at night the Mellow moonlight made its path across the Waves, Cedric paced the deck impatiently; And in his restless dreams he saw the face And form of Lola; felt her soft breath on His cheek, her arms entwined about his neck In heavenly bliss. At some port discharging Freightage, the ship would often linger for A day, and those on board would wander thro’ The town. Once they saw a vessel that plied Between that southern coast and Africa Unload its cargo--human souls, who had Been stolen from their home and brought to this Free country to be sold to servitude. The buyers, richly dressed and bedecked with Diamonds, stood like drovers waiting at the Cattle pens to buy. One gentleman with Pistol at his belt, true type of southern Cavalier, took a mother from her child; Cedric pled with him to buy the baby Too. He was answered by an insult, and Derided for his pity for “the brat.” Unmindful of the insult to himself, He persevered and gained consent to buy The child and place it in its mother’s arms. Off the south-most coast they saw the isle, The magic isle of Bimini, where the Indian sages told De Leon he Would find the fountain of eternal youth. Thence onward thro’ the gulf, and near that quaint Old Crescent City, he found his darling Lola. Near the city in a lovely Urban villa on the rich plantation Of her father, where the oleanders Bloom, and palmettos wave their fronded plumes, They met once more. Her father, Colonel Vail, Was absent; would return in one week more. Six days, six blissful days, from early morn Till eve, the lovers wandered ’mid the scenes To her, so rich in hallowed memories. Sitting by her mother’s grave, she told him How unlike the days of old she found her Home. Her father, with advancing age and Growing wealth, had changed; become more like the One who filled her mother’s place, purse-proud and Haughty. He had hinted at a union That he desired for her, and she feared he Would not look with favor on her Cedric. Like as the vine twines with the sturdy oak And clings the stronger when the north wind blows, So she, as moved by some foreboding, clung To him, and begged that she might go with him To that far land; and coaxingly she said: “Who will spread the table for my Cedric? Or smooth his pillow? Or if mishap befall, Nurse him back to health? If he goes alone, I ne’er shall look upon his face again.” He kissed away her tears and playfully Made light of her misgiving; yet he was Sorely tempted, and well-nigh gave way to His desire; but that high sense of honor, And solicitude for her, gave him the Mastery over self. And from that hour He never knew a thought of selfishness. He soothed her fears; and by words of wisdom, (As before) soon brought her judgment into Sweet accord with his. But it was agreed That if her father answered his request With scorn, or treated him unkindly, there Would be no angry words. That he would go And never ask again. When he returned, Would take her as his rightful own; and then He held her to his breast, and laid upon Her lips what they both well knew might be his Farewell kiss. For even then they saw her Father’s carriage coming up the drive. When They met and she presented her betrothed, Cedric recognized the man who bought the Slave and would have torn the infant from its Mother’s breast. Yet, speaking calmly, told him Who he was, whence and why he came; told all Manfully; and the Colonel heard him thro’. Then, with derisive laugh, he taunted him For his presumption: “A pauper, begging For a queen! Nay, nay! The one who gains my Daughter’s hand must have a bank account or Property in land or slaves.” The hot blood Rushing to his brow, he boldly answered: “I go, accepting these conditions, but Surely will return.” Then, taking Lola’s Hand, said cheerfully: “’Till then, good-bye.” With Tearless eyes she proudly looked upon her Cedric, and stood as strong and brave as he. THE MINES. When Cedric reached that country where precious Metals and bright gems, by nature’s cunning Hand are tucked away and hidden in the Rocks or scattered in the sands, he found a Dusky peon--Jose Morales--whom he Had known and trusted, and took him with his Train of donkeys packed with stores; with miner’s Pick and spade and crucible, he bravely Plunged into the wilderness. For many Long and weary days he sought among the _Dry Lomitas_, sought in vain beneath a Tropic sun, lured on by prospects that proved Valueless. And when at last he found a Vein of quartz that sparkled with the golden Grains, he was compelled to leave it there, to Wait thro’ long decades for other hands to Come with stamp and chemicals to crush the Rock and bear away the millions he had Found. He working, saw the months pass by, but Labored on with Lola ever in his Mind. Anon there crept before his sight A vision of that peaceful shore where first They met,--a cottage home--his Lola with A blue-eyed baby kneeling by her side, White robed, with golden curls, in attitude Of prayer--that evening prayer by mother taught; Then he saw the blessings of the simpler, Holy life; saw that wealth is least of all. One day Morales in quest of water Sent, returned in great excitement, crying “Oro grande, señor! Oro grande!” In a deep arroyo in the sands for Ages washed by floods from mountain storm, Jose had discovered as he said, “much Gold.” In cup-like hollows of the rocks by Falling waters worn away--in yellow Nuggets buried in the sand--he found the Glittering fortune they so long had sought. This he changed for currency of lighter Weight and coin, in that old city where his Forbears died; then to the seaport sped, there Impatient waited for the ship to come And carry him in triumph to his bride. BEN RUBIDEAUX. The consul, seeking Cedric, told him he Had sent a messenger in search of him With letters, and gave him one from Lola, Requesting that the messenger be sent. Cedric sent Morales to intercept The messenger and bring the letters back. This the faithful fellow did, and Cedric Read them with dismay. Morales saw the Troubled look on Cedric’s face and begged to Go with him. With his tamales, and his Mascal, and being Cedric’s servant, he Was satisfied. He cared not for his share; Would leave it all with him. Cedric, with real Affection, grateful for his faithfulness, Told him he might go and evermore abide With him. He read the letters o’er and O’er with sinking heart, read Lola’s letters. Beginning at the first, he read how proud Of him she was when he “so grandly stood Before her father, with the bearing of A king, and faced him in his wrath;” then of Her sad and lonely days when he was gone; How her father sought by gentleness to Mould her to his will and bring her to forget The one she loved. Of the attention paid By Simon Blake, her father’s friend and boon Companion, the man he wanted her to Wed,--a vile, besotted wretch who knew no God but gold; she hated gold and wished that He might come back poor in all but love and Purity of soul, with which no other Riches can compare. This man had urged his Suit until she had exhausted all the Harmless arts of womanhood to evade His coarse advances, praying daily that Her Cedric would return; when he boldly Claimed her hand, she told him, “No;” he bro’t her Father who commanded that she wed him; She, helpless in their hands, had pled for time-- One more year; then, if Cedric had not come, Her answer they should have. One day she, in An arbor half hidden in the trellis, Had heard her father’s overseer, Ben Rubideaux, and Simon Blake make bargain That for a sum the overseer would watch For Cedric and murder him if he should Come. She knew he did not fear them all, but For her sake, she begged him not to venture There. She gave a number in the city Where he would find a friend, a lady friend, Of hers. It was arranged that she should come For her. Then, as his lawful wife, he could Defend her and himself, if needs must be. ’Twere best that he should come with pistols, armed; Ben Rubideaux and Blake were desperate And wicked men. She wrote, fearing lest her Letters would not be received; since he left, She had received no word from him; she knew That he would write, but they had come between. THE WEDDING. This plan was not to Cedric’s liking for He would fain have gone openly and claimed His bride, but for her sake he acquiesced, And in his servant’s name he took a house, A lovely house, in quiet place apart. There Lola came, and as the light of slow Descending sun proclaimed the dying day, And zephyrs laden with the breath of bloom And tuneful with the song of mocking bird, Were wafted from the sea, then from the mission Came the parish priest, and in soft accents Of the Spanish tongue, pronounced the holy Words that made them one. No other witness Than his servant and her friend. And there thro’ Long and dreamy, blissful days, they passed their Honeymoon. Morales, with his native Instinct, saw that danger hovered over Cedric; and, unknown to him, he shadowed All his steps. One night a messenger in Haste came to the door, told Cedric that his Servant was in trouble, needed him; he Went, not knowing that his faithful Jose Shadowed them. When near the water front the Stranger fled; and from the cotton bales and Freightage piled upon the dock, two ruffians Sprang on Cedric. When the light of morning Dawned, the lifeless forms of Simon Blake, Ben Rubideaux and poor Morales were found Lying on the bloody dock. All night Lola Paced the floor in anguish, list’ning for the Footsteps that came not. Nor knew she of the Tragedy until she read: “Murdered! In the Night! Two citizens of high repute shot down! But not until one of the murderers (A bearded foreigner) was killed by them. The other has escaped, but the mob is On his track and he will soon be taken.” The paper gave a good description of Her husband, which she doubted not, was given By the man who called for him. If she should Speak, it would bring harm to Cedric; he might Escape and come to her; so, taking hope, With one trusty servant she in hiding Waited there. Her friend had gone and no one Knew of her abiding place. The weary Weeks and months rolled by; she pined, and passing Near the gates of death, awoke to find a Blue-eyed baby by her side--the child of Cedric’s dreams. The months passed by and still No word from Cedric came. She, yielding to Her grief and drooping, faded as a flower That withering in decadence fades away. The rosy seraph sent--so kindly sent-- From heaven to be the precious idol of Her solitude, and his, grew strong and more Angelic as the passing days went by. When the ruffians from the darkness sprang on Cedric, with ready shot, the foremost fell; But the bludgeon of the other laid him Low; then, as the fatal blow was falling, Morales coming, threw himself between; And in deadly combat grappled with Ben Rubideaux. With bowie knives they struggled, Each receiving fatal thrusts, nor yielded Until weak from loss of blood, they parting Fell; Morales’ bowie buried in the Heart of Rubideaux. Cedric lay for hours, Unconscious; then, his strength returning, he Rose, and dazed, bewildered, groped along the Frontage, stag’ring like a drunken man; the Stevedores thought him one returning from a Night’s debauch. He in the early morning, Came where a boat was loosening its cables From the wharf; and unnoticed, stumbled on And fell among the luggage in a swoon. THE MYSTIC TOKEN. The boat--bound for the Indies--was well out On the gulf before they found and lifted Him; nor knew they of the tragedy upon The dock, or that he was hunted as a Murderer. They finding on his person The token of a craft which they reveréd, They cared for him and left him safely in An island city of the Southern Sea. There his brother craftsmen gathering round him, Nursing--raised him--raised him as one from the Dead. From the “Valley of the Shadows” brought Him forth to perfect health and vigor; but Alas! the silken cord that erstwhile bound Him to the past, was broken! _Memory Was gone!_ Nor, with active mind and clear, could He recall the past, tell his name or whence He came. He strove to lift the veil and look Beyond the wall of night that intervened. That cruel blow had caused a lesion of The brain--a lapse of memory complete. As the wire that bears the hidden current Broken, swaying in the breeze, connecting Sends a gleam across the night, so at times Bright gleams of memory, almost taking Shape, would light his way; then leaving him in Greater darkness, would as quickly fly away. Gradually came before his sight, as Dimly seen thro’ nebulae, the outlines Of a form and face came from the misty Moonlight of the past. At last, came back to Him, that picture which had made the deepest Imprint on his mind--his Lola, as he Saw her standing by her father’s side. But When was this? And where? And who was she? By exercise of all the strength of his Great will, her name once more came back to him, And then her father’s; then the city where They lived; and then it was borne in on him That she was his betrothed; that he had gone To that fair isle to make a home for her. Now, having gained the wherewithal, he could Go and bring her. With this thought, the flame of Love rekindled blazed anew, as clearly He remembered those six happy days of Love with her--what she said, his promises; And now--his hot blood leaping to the call, He hastened on his way. Arriving there, He straightway went to find her father’s Home and claim her as he swore to do the Day he left her there. The Colonel met him With a scornful smile and said: “So you have Come? You may have her, if you wish for such As she.” Breaking forth in rage, he cried--with Oaths--“Go! Find her at the hospital”--he Told the driver where--“Go! Find her with her Child of shame; they are good enough for you! I care not if she fills a harlot’s grave.” THE STOLEN CHILD. Cedric, smitten almost to the death, bade The driver go with haste. He found her and She, smiling, whispered low: “My Cedric, you Have come to meet me. Is this heaven?” then placed The baby hand in his and falling back, She was _indeed in heaven_. Cedric, tearless, For a moment stood as one struck dumb; then Took the baby in his arms. She too young To understand, or lisp her mother’s name Or his, as though instinctively, she threw Her rosy arms about his neck and kissed Him. Then confiding, laid her golden curls Upon his breast. The nurses, thinking him A base deserter, hoping he at least Would own the child, and seeing him caress It--placed tenderly its costly wrappings ’Round, and quickly packed its ample clothing, Gave it him. He kissed the marble brow and Turning to the one who had the right to Speak for all, he inquired about the rites And ceremonies of her faith, “Were they Performed?” “Yes,” the matron said, “the good priest Has been often by her side, left her just Before you came; the one who married her.” He paced the hall and pondered, mystified. What he had heard and seen had set his brain Awhirl. So she was married! Then to whom? Her husband might at any moment come And claim his child--claim Lola’s child--he quick Resolved to take the babe and give his life To her--to care for her, for Lola’s sake; For she was Lola’s child, if not his own. They must not know that he was not the one Who married her. He must not see the priest. He, in his frenzy, cast aside all thought Of right or wrong--decided he would Steal--yea, lie or even die before that One who had deserted her should have her Child. He gave them gold, and speaking calmly, (Falsely, too, as he supposed) said: “Tell them Her husband ordered that her last resting Place shall be a mausoleum grand, and To him you gave the child--the one to whom It rightfully belongs; say that he loved Her to the last, and would that he had died; That she had mourned for him--not he for her.” Then, with a farewell kiss, he took the child, Believing he was stealing it away. The baby clung to him and was content. But for the child his life had ended there; Then there had been no tie to bind, no one To love. The past almost a blank, and in The future no alluring hope, he fain Had snap’d the slender thread of life, to be With Lola evermore. Or, had he been One of the weaker kind, complaining at His fate, he had perchance by slower Process, ended all in low debauchery. THE WANDERERS. But those confiding arms, that baby kiss Upon his cheek, sent thro’ the aisles of his Great, generous heart, a flood of newborn Love. To part with her would be indeed to Part with life itself. He, thinking quickly And as quickly acting, fled--took the first Ship that sailed, nor asking whither it was Bound; rejoicing when it cleared the dock and Seaward turned its prow. When learning that its Course lay to the north, he changed to one bound For the South Sea Isles. Sailing to and fro, The changing seasons passed while they upon The ocean cruised like wanderers without A guide; he thinking only of his charge, And where he, in her tender years, the Best could care for her. Willing hands he found-- Mothers’ hands outstretched to take the cherub From his arms. She, growing, Cedric saw in Her the image of her mother--the same Blue eyes and wavy hair which fell about Her shoulders; high arching brows and lashes Long but darker shaded, like his own. He Had thought to call her Lola; but when the Stranger asked her name, she lisping answered, “Zola,” he left it so. Tho’ long before The day when ox-carts plowed their dusty way Across the plains to reach the sun land slopes, The Eldorado of the west, he knew Of that fair land beside the sunset sea-- That sunny, southern California. There they would go, where none would ever hear The story of the stolen, nameless child; And where the recreant father ne’er would Come. There would he seek and find in sylvan Quietude, the sweetest spot where Mother Nature reigns and in her lap, among the Birds and flowers, would she be reared in spotless Purity--educated--taught by him-- As wise men of the olden times received Their learning from the doctors of the law. Thitherward they sailed; and thro’ the rocky Gateways of the cape--tho’ roughly shaken-- Safely passed; then to the north thro’ calmer Waters, borne by Etesian winds, oft-times Delayed by traffic at the ports, or on A glassy sea becalmed. And once their ship Was overtaken by an ugly craft That bore the pirates’ flag; and every man On board was called to arms; then they were Well nigh overwhelmed and taken. Cedric, Joining with the crew, fought valiantly. Thro’ The thickest of the battle, Zola clung To him. When they would have taken her below, She cried, “Let me stay wiz papa; if he Go, zen me go too.” Cedric answered, “Be It so; we live or die together.” But Their fears were turned to great rejoicing when A shot crashed thro’ the pirate craft. They sailed Away and left it sinking in the deep. Cedric, by his bravery and coolness In the time of danger, won respect and Friendship of officers and crew. When they Left him at the mission of the holy Padres, on the bay of San Diego, Loaded him with costly presents, forced them On him, presents for himself and Zola. The angelic child had won the hearts of all. Cedric told the good Franciscan fathers He was going northward overland, and Joyously he set about preparing For the journey, she ever at his side, With childish prattle, asking, “What is zis?” “What is zat?” and “What for?” He answering Cheerfully and evermore explaining-- Teaching her. In her sweet companionship And the certainty of keeping her, he Laid aside his sadness and became as Light of heart and happy as herself. At Last they were all ready to begin their Wild and free nomadic life--a dozen Gentle burros, packed with all that they might Need for months to come; a tent with costly Furs and rugs, and blankets of bright colors Bo’t from the Indians, with toys and gaudy Trinkets; a snow-white pony, showily Equip’d with Spanish bit and bridle, Upon its back a basket, sedan-like, With crimson canopy, lined with softest Silken draperies, for his “Gypsy queen.” A princess of the Romany was ne’er Provided with such luxuries as she. In the early morning, long before the Ringing of the mission bells, Zola and Her strange retinue set forth; the pony, With its precious burden, led by Cedric’s Hand; then came the white milk goats with tinkling Bells; to the sound, the meek-faced burros, trained To follow, trailed patiently behind; and Then a faithful shepherd dog to keep them All in line. They moved by easy stages, Stopping often in some shady dell to Rest and let their burros feed upon the Grassy slopes. Then would Zola gather flowers, Or chase the yellow butterflies, with shouts Of childish glee that echoed thro’ the glen; To him a sweeter music than the chime Of great cathedral bells or orchestra. IN THE MOUNTAINS. They exploring, crossed the great Cuyamaca Range, traversed its broad plateaus, and thro’ the Silence of its lofty domes and canyons; Then beyond, where boiling waters gurgling Flowed thro’ Indian villages. They saw The waving pines upon the lofty crest Of Palomar; and wandering, vainly sought Along its base for passage leading to Its heights. They often reached an eminence, And thought they neared the goal, when overhanging Walls of granite turned them back. At last, by Persevering, came upon its table- Lands; and pressing forward found the place he Long had pictured in his mind--the sheltering Boughs of giant trees, the gushing fountain, Level plot of fertile land below, well Watered by the rivulets that trickled From the springs. Here he sowed the garden seeds And grain; and from the chaparral he bro’t The antlered buck and lesser game. The sweets The toiling honey bee had stored away, Drip’d from the boles of sycamore and oak. They happy lived in Nature’s luxury. Lest in their quietude he might become Indifferent or wasteful of the time, He took up an ancient system which they Faithfully observed thro’ all their years of Hermitage--eight hours for labor, eight for Rest, and eight for study and improvement Of his mind, and teaching Zola. He was The builder of the hidden cabin; for Zola it was builded, for her boudoir. With loving hands, he axe and auger plied, Without compass, square or trestle board, But with all the tenderness that ever Mother bird provided for her nestling. He building, furnished it with draperies-- Bright Indian blankets, rugs and robes of Fur, arranging all as beautiful as Tho’ her mother’s spirit hands had guided His. Perchance they did. If love be spirit, And spirit love--or soul--then such as hers Might overleap the balustrades of Heaven and find its own; or such unselfish Soul as his might rise and view the palace Of the skies. He teaching, opened first the Book of Nature, and strolled with her among The flowers and botanized. Then to the rocks; He told her of the slow formations of The ages. From the books selected in The days when she was cradled on the sea, He, in learning, carried her beyond her Years. “PEG LEG, THE MINER.” They marked the changing moons until a Score had glided by and yet had seen no Other human face save one--and he, an Honest miner whom they found in sorry Plight, with broken limb, where he had fallen From an overhanging ledge. They succored Him until, returned to strength, he rose with One limb twisted hopelessly. They made--as Best they could--a wooden substitute, and Strap’d with buckskin bandage, he soon learned to Use it cleverly. Jokingly, he called Himself “Peg-leg, the miner.” He told them Of a mine that out upon the desert He had found, where three large buttes stood side by Side. Cedric gave him burros from his herd, And packs, and sent him on his way. He came Again with well-filled sacks of pellets round As shot and black as ebony, which proved To be pure gold. He left it there, and leaving, Nevermore returned. Miners to this day In vain have sought that “Peg-leg Mine,” and those Three buttes; and some have left their bones to bleach Upon the desert sand. The miner told Them of a nearer passage, a hidden Trail, that led downward to the valley. They Going, tarried there and Cedric sent the Indians to the mission for supplies. Once a cougar sprang across their path with Blazing eyes and crouching for a spring; when Cedric sent a bullet thro’ its brain; and From its den he took a pair of baby Mountain lions, made orphans by the shot. Zola, pitying, took them home and one, Surviving, grew to monstrous size, became Obedient to her command, and like A faithful watch dog, followed her. She Called him Zimbo. Other pets she had--white Kids of silken fleece, birds and animals, But Zimbo was the monarch of them all. As the circling years went ’round and she could See beyond the golden morning of her Sunny life the ripening noonday coming On, she longed to see the world beyond her Mountain home; but named it not to Cedric. With her years she grew more fearless, wild and Venturesome. With Zimbo and her rifle, She scaled the dizzy heights of rock and crag Where condors built their nests, and knew the Devious windings of the wild doe’s trail, Thro’ manzanita groves and chaparral. In a seat of granite, nature fashioned, Like a throne, shaded by a giant oak Upon a summit looking oceanward, She would sit in dreamy mood and watch the Silvery line of surf that fringed the far-off Fading stretch of blue. Once she saw a sail Appear, then slowly vanish in the offing; And in the quiet of an early morn, She heard the low sweet chime of mission bells. GILBERT. To that same port where Cedric landed with His Zola, others came from distant parts. Some came to seek their fortunes, others came To buy and till the soil, some to obey The inborn instinct of the pioneer. One family, leaving all behind, had bro’t A sickly child. Rich and prosperous they Had been, and with children blessed; but a dread Contagion had swept them all away save One; and he, left delicate and frail, the Idol of their hopes--no other left to Keep the family name. From those who best could Speak, they learned there was no hope unless it be In taking him to that fair, sunny clime. They hastened there and gave him for his home A quaint old hacienda of the Dons; With many leagues of land that lay between The mountains and the sea. There amid the Orange groves and vineyards, in the freedom Of the range where roamed his father’s flocks and Herds, young Gilbert soon became a gay young Caballero--grew as strong and fearless As vaqueros of the range--could twirl the Lariat or aim the rifle true as they. Sunburned, strong and handsome was Gilbert, in Showy costume of the Dons, with clanking Spurs, gold-mounted trappings on his coal-black Leo, ambling thro’ the massive arches Of the mission. Señoritas smiled on Him; he returned their loving glances. This His parents seeing, feared their Angelo Blood be mixed with that of darker hue, besought Him to return to their old home and there To find a bride of his own faith and kind. He quieted their fears and said that he Was wedded to the mesa and the hills. He loved the mountains more than ever Bridegroom loved his bride, his heart was free; But kind and true and dutiful to them, He promised solemnly that he would do As they desired before he took a wife; For ne’er could he repay the love and care By them bestowed on him, their sacrifice. Foremost in all manly sports, he reckless Rode along the beach where foaming breakers Lashed the cliffs, fleet-footed Leo dashed between. His black horse was known on El Camino Real--far beyond the shady groves of Monte Vista. He loved the mountains And on their bosom laid his head beneath The starlit skies, companion of their silence, Partaker of their rest. In midnight darkness Could he thread the winding Indian trail Across the high Cuyamacas, and often Had he reached the base of Palomar, and Longed to see beyond its frowning granite Walls. At last, undaunted, came nearly to The summit--came where a deep-walled canyon held Him back, there rested. The autumn sun was Slowly sinking to the sea and bathed the Mountain side in flood of rosy-tinted Brilliancy. ZOLA AND ZIMBO. Upon a shelving rock near By, a being of angelic beauty Stood; posed statue-like, her eyes fix’t on the Distant sea; one hand spread gracefully Across her brow, the other holding back A monster mountain lion that crouching At her feet, lay watching him; a robe of Softest fabric, yielding to the breeze, revealed The ample fulness of her shapely form; Caught back by strand of sparkling gems, a mass Of golden hair fell nearly to her feet. She unconscious of his presence, Gilbert Stood in speechless adoration, as one Entranced,--lost in wonderment. Who was this Personage divine? This apparition Come to him on that lone mountain side? Was She some fairy elf come to bewitch him? Some mountain sprite? Or angel from the throne? With throbbing temples, arms outstretched, as tho’ He fain would leap the chasm that lay between, Pressed slowly to its edge. The lion rising Angrily to spring, she saw him standing There and vanished from his sight. Then from the Rocks, he heard her voice call softly, sternly: “Come, Zimbo, come! _Come here!_” The spell was Broken; by those words in his own tongue He knew that she was of the earth--one like Himself--and not a native of that land. Day after day did he return to that Same spot and, waiting patient, watch for her; Once for a moment saw her on the heights, And again, he saw the eyes of that great Lion fixed on him and knew that she was Near. Like knight of old he scaled the highest Peaks and stood upon the spot her feet had Pressed. With throbbing pulse and palpitating Heart he followed in pursuit. The kindly Rocks revealed no tell-tale foot prints where her Feet had touched them in her flight. The summer Wore away and autumn came again; yet She cunningly evaded him. Growing Desperate, he traversed all the length and Breadth of Palomar; at times he heard her Voice in song, heard her speak to Zimbo, she Near him; for a precious moment saw her, But in finesse she more than equalled him. Gilbert’s parents missed his merry laugh and Jest; marvelled at his absence; feared that He was ill and questioned him. He told them He was hunting in the mountains, but he Mentioned not the object of his quest; misled Them by tales of condor’s nest and mountain Lion he had seen. Likewise was Cedric Troubled by the change he saw in Zola. She loved Gilbert--loved him wildly, madly. She had watched him when he knew it not, and Knew that he loved her; but frightened at the Thought, was minded to keep the secret Locked in her own breast and fly from him; so Timidly she asked if some day they might Go away, and sailing o’er the ocean Find another home. Cedric answered, “Yes, Some day.” He had long expected this and Unknown to her, had in a way, prepared Her for the change. From that lone mountain top Letters had been sent to shops and houses Of the east, and yearly in return had Come by Indian carriers from the port Clothing for himself and Zola, made to Measure sent, and always in their study Hours they dressed resplendently, that she might Grace a drawing-room and feel at ease--not Show that she in wilderness was reared. She had mastered music and languages In travel needed most, and was withal A finished scholar. Not for himself but Her, he feared to take her hence--knew full well That one so beautiful would soon be wooed, And he had never told her of the cloud That hung around her birth--the cloud of Mystery. As for himself, he loved her All the better for it--she blameless--he In tenderness postponed the hour; but the Longer left undone, he dreading knew that One day it must come; in honor must he Speak--must tell her, though it break her heart, to Know that he was not her father. Often Did he wish that in her childhood had he Told her all. Yet, in his weakness, promised Her that some day they would go: “Yes; some day.” Gilbert, growing wise in woodcraft and in The art of making love, on the farther Side went up the mountain, rode Leo up The winding trail; Zola watching, waited Disappointed while he--galloping o’er the Table-land--came on Cedric busy in His garden. They with kindly greeting met, Conversing, found each the other to his Liking. He too manly to dissemble, Gilbert came out openly: The one so Coy and beautiful, was she his daughter? Cedric troubled, sternly answered: “She is mine, Indeed, my Zola.” How learned the young man of Her presence on the mountain? Had he met Her? Had they met clandestinely? Gilbert, Speaking plainly, said: Tho’ strangers, Yet they knew each other well; he long had Worship’d her afar; well she knew and well Had she evaded him. Now, at last, had He found the one to ask if he might meet and Woo her, would he give consent? Cedric saw His good intent, sincerity and truth, Looked upon him with the feeling of the Father for the son. Then like a phantom Came that secret terror of his life,--he Spoke unlike himself--severe, unkindly. “She obeys her father’s will and he would Will that she remain unseen, unknown To strange intruder. The young man makes bold In asking.” Answered Gilbert, manfully: “May not a true heart be emboldened by The hope of winning one so beautiful? The asking honorable? Perchance the Señor has himself in days gone by made Like request?” Spoke of his family Old and honored, lived on the Gilbert rancho In the valley. Would he offer them rebuke Unwittingly? Cedric by his words the More determined they should never meet, for Zola’s sake and his, resolved to flee With her, so spoke deceitfully. He must Go and wait six days and on the seventh Come; if she were there then he might speak with Her. Gilbert said respectfully: “’Tis well! With such a hope I well may add to my Long waiting one more week.” And with a smile Of hopefulness, he rode away. Cedric Pitying, watched him disappear among The ceanothus bloom and drooping boughs. Zola coming, on her face the look of Sadness,--signs of weeping,--Cedric knowing Now the secret of the change in her--the Absence of the rippling laughter noticed In the months gone by--his kind heart melted And well-nigh did he repent and tell her All, tell Gilbert; but the specter haunting Fixed his purpose; she must go or face a Deeper sorrow. So, despite his feeling, Smilingly and cheerful, told her they would Go and sail across the ocean--sail to Foreign lands. Thus seeking to beguile and Turn her from the tie that bound her heart to Palomar, spake he of the people and The sights that they would see. Long had they Remained in Nature’s parlor; now going, Would they view the halls and palaces of Splendor they had read about. She smiling Sadly, kissed and thanked him for his kindness. She daily strolled where she had seen the face Of Gilbert, vainly waiting with the hope That he would come once more--pensively, with Tears--and prayed that she might see him once Again before she went away. The sun From out its saffron-tinted bed burst forth And kissed the mountain peaks. She weeping, heard The matin song of birds and cooing doves, The melody of Nature’s minstrelsy-- Heard, and yet not heard, for today must she Decide among her treasures, which to take And which to leave behind. Came Zimbo and Her pets for breakfast from her hand, the last But one, for early on the morrow she Would go. “Shall we never come again to This dear spot?” she asked. Cedric feigning Cheerfulness, his sadness ill-concealed,--ran On assuringly: “Of course, we will return And rest from our long journey ’round the world; Come, bring your bric-a-brac, my girl, and we Will pack it snugly in the cabin, bar The doors and leave all safe and sound. We may Find Zimbo and the other pets all waiting When we come. Cheer up, my darling; dry your Tears, for wondrous sights are waiting for those Eyes to feast upon.” Thus talking, while he Packed her treasures in the hidden cabin. THE MIDNIGHT RIDE. Gilbert, sleepless, counted yet the slowly Dragging hours--three more days, and then The promised one; pondered o’er the words of That strange man on Palomar,--words so oft Repeated: “If she be here, then you may Speak with her.” “_If she be here!_” Their meaning-- His intention--dawned upon him. “She will _Not be there!_” In frantic haste he rose and Threw his saddle on his fastest horse and Sent the spurs along his quivering flanks; His adolescent blood in angry throbs, His eyes ablaze, he wildly flew across The mesa, through the foothills, brave Bonita Stag’ring, bore him up the trail. In early Morning came to where he spoke with Cedric. On the slope he saw the tethered burros, Well-filled packs and camping equipage near By. Then from the curtained maze of trailing Vines and boughs, he heard the gurgling waters Of the spring and sound of axe. Pressing thro’ He came upon the hidden cabin, Cedric Placing bars before the door, and Zola By his side. At sight of him came bounding Zimbo, stop’d by Zola’s voice. Then, with head Uncovered--bowed, as one in reverential Attitude before a shrine--addressed her: “We have been acquainted long, if not by Spoken word, then by the cords that bind two Hearts as one. This man who calls you daughter, He may tell you of his promise--explain The breaking--doubting not his motive, I Believe him kind and true.” “_Calls you daughter!_” Smote poor Cedric’s soul; a deadly pallor Swept across his kindly face. The time had Come when he must speak--must tell the secret Of his life--her life. Then he recited All that he remembered,--Zola’s unknown Parentage; his stealing her, and fear that She be taken; how he had suffered with The dread of making known to her that he Was not her father. Speaking, the strong man Breaking, wept. Her love and true devotion Setting all aside, she sprang to him and Clinging, cried: “_He is my own dear father!_” Her dazzling beauty now intensified. As one enchanted, Gilbert looked upon The scene; such filial love revealed a depth Of soul beyond his ken; thought he of those Who called him son--what they had done for him-- And of the promise he had made to them. Yes, he would die for them; yet in their pride Of name and family might they not spurn This nameless one? Thus in the balance weighed His love for her was satisfied; fortune, Name and family were all as naught to Him compared with Zola. He proudly asked Again to woo the hermit’s daughter and Winning, give to her his name. “No, no,” she Answered for the father, “until this cloud Is lifted--mystery solved--my name is Zola Vaughn.” With her words, a light broke in On Gilbert. Joyously he spoke; as he Had promised would he go back to the states And seek a bride, solve the mystery and Return triumphant, claim her--his Zola-- As his bride. Would take the ship now in The harbor, sail tomorrow. Cedric gave The name of Colonel Vail, but his memory Yielded meagerly of information Needed. He well remembered all his life _Up to_ the day that he left Lola at Her father’s home, and _from_ the day she died, The gap between in mystery wrapt, all blank. Gilbert, taking Cedric’s hand, said: “From this Day your life shall be a pattern for my Own. God bless you.” And to Zola: “You are Mine whate’er my journey may reveal;” and Unmindful of her sweet rebuke, he held Her to his breast and kissed her. That life-long Fear for her still haunting, Cedric followed Him aside and whispered: “The father, if He be found, pray name her not to him.” From The mountain top she watched him out of sight; Then, alone on Palomar, the hermit’s Daughter wept. When their only son went forth To seek a bride--to keep his vow--there was Great rejoicing at the Gilbert rancho. GILBERT’S JOURNEY. After journey long and wearisome, he Reached the Crescent City and the home of Colonel Vail. The aged man now mellowed By weight of years, remorseful, mourning And alone, received him kindly, answered: “Her father’s name was Simon Blake, he was Murdered by a Mexican upon the Dock. The child, my grandchild’s name was Blake. The man who loved my daughter came and found her Dying. ’Twas he who took the child away, And they were lost at sea.” Gilbert had the Story of her life--her name was Zola Blake. With heavy heart he homeward turned, yet No less loyal to his Zola. With sad Misgivings waited for the coming of The ship--long overdue--by stormy sea Kept back. Waiting, pondered gloomily; he Must go and bear the tidings that would solve The mystery of her name, but leave a Darker shadow than before. Still would she Refuse his name they would go away from Palomar. They at the rancho, left so Happily, what would he say to them? At Last with tattered sail and broken, came The ship. He hastening, learned that it would Lay at anchor there yet two days more in Mending. Hopeless, yet with strange desire to Linger there, again he visited the Hospital where Zola’s mother died; but As before, no voice could answer aught of Her; yet caught a thread of hope--an aged Priest in near-by parish _might_ remember. The father heard him,--listened eagerly; Then in his book of records found the date When Lola Vail and Cedric Vaughn were wed; And the christening of her daughter--their child. Left with him for Cedric, left by Lola, The treasure he had brought from Mexico, Lola’s diary, presents he had given, And a miniature of Cedric done by Her own hand; then to the house where they were Married and her resting place. Gilbert took The proof to Colonel Vail and together They rejoiced. He begged that he would bring his Grandchild there when they were wed, and Cedric Vaughn, that he might grasp the hand of that true Man. Now, to Gilbert’s happy heart attuned By hope’s fruition, Nature brought a new Glad song. The bird notes rang with sweeter Melody--sunshine brighter--bluer skies-- Even in the tumbling troughs of ocean’s Depth, he read the mirrored light of love and Joy. Thro’ long and dreary days beneath a Tropic sun,--in calm, or fog, or buffeted By winds adverse, the good ship sped ’til thro’ The mild Pacific’s purple haze, Point Loma came in view and then, across the Mesa, to the hacienda, _home again_. With mysterious air, and teasing told, Or partly told the story. Yes; he had Found a fairy queen and when again the Great round moon came o’er the mountain top, she, Riding on its silvery beams, would come in State,--would come with him--come to the rancho. They must “’bide-a-wee” and trusting him, wait Patiently. So he left them wondering. CONCLUSION. To Palomar he flew--told all that he Had learned--laid the proof before them--described The house where Cedric lived--told of the battle on The dock--how Morales died--the bags of Gold from Mexico. Thus aided, Cedric Woke as from a dream, remembered all; then Placing Zola’s hand in his, withdrew to Be alone with sacred memories. Hand In hand the lovers blissful roved among The crags and overhanging boughs where she Had watched unseen, for him. Led him thro’ the Brake, in forest solitudes, where lemon Lilies nestling grow, and clinging vines And nodding ceanothus plumes bedrape The foliage in Nature’s millinery. With love and kisses roamed until the day When proudly and triumphant, Gilbert led Them thro’ the avenues of spreading palms and Vine-clad arches of the hacienda. His mother welcomed her with tears of joy, “Her daughter”--then met the fathers--met in Glad surprise--for Cedric Vaughn and Homer Lee stood face to face; again renewed the Old time bonds of love and friendship made the Stronger. Then came another presence on The scene. Radiant in the ripened bloom Of womanhood--as beautiful as in The happy days of old--came Dora Lee To welcome Cedric Vaughn and Lola’s child. On the Gilbert rancho (named for him), in the Dreamy quiet of a summer eve, while Softly chimed the distant mission bells, At the hacienda, sweet Zola Vaughn And Gilbert Lee were wed. And when the Autumn came, and vine, and bough and field gave Forth their richest fruitage, and falling leaves Betokened ripeness--the sure reward Of patient waiting--two faithful souls were Joined as one. Again rang forth the silvery Chime of wedding bells--old mission bells--that Echoed from the gilded cross above its Hoary walls, a benediction sweet as Incense from its altars. Long, long ago Back to the happy scenes of youth they sailed, And left the hidden cabin to decay. * * * * * A New Book Up the Grade BY DAVID W. EDWARDS _Author of_ “_The Hidden Cabin_,” “_Billy Birdsall_,” _etc._ A strong romance, natural and absorbing. It has a special message to young men. Both young and old will find pleasure and profit in its pages. The hero is a fine type of manhood. 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