The Canadian Crescent. (Canadian, Tex.), Vol. 2, No. 3, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 15, 1888 Page: 3 of 8
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THE CANADIAN CRESCENT.
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TKEEMAJSt E. M1LLEB, Editor * Pub's
, PUBLISHED EVERJT THURSDAY AT
CANADIAN. - TEXAS,
MARRIAGE A FAILURE.
Which shall it be? Which shall it be?
I looked at Kate—Kate looked at me;
The girl who plays the piano well,
Or the girl who knows not how to spell;
She of the silk or satin cloth.
Or she who is ignorant of both—
The girl who will bring me style and pelf,
Or she who has naught except herself.
The one can sing in the twilight dim
The words of a sweet old-fashioned hymn;
The other her cultured soul will pour
In notes that beyond the critics soar.
The one my eveuiog meal will cook;
The other will read me a pleasant book.
One may look down on me, wrong suspect;
The other will make me her god-elect.
Which shall it be, which shall it be?
I looked at Kate—Kate looked at me—
So sweet, so shy, her lovely eyes
Completely took me by surprise,
And sol asked her there and then
To ma*<e me happiest of men;
I had my answer, quickly, too:
"I am engaged—I thought you knew."
It was reserved for Hannah then
To make me happiest of all men;
To her I hastened to express
Approval of her comeliness;
I offered her my heart and hand,
But instantly she said: 44 Good land,
I think, kind sir, you are mistook,
I'm not so big a fool as I look.1'
L'Envoi.
Since marriage is a failure. I
In single blessedness will die.
—Detroit Free Press,
A FEAJRFUL EXPEDIENCE.
The True Story of a Forced Inter-
view with a Madman.
It was about six years ago. I recall
the scene and the circumstances vividly
to mind. I can see now the large
square room in an old-fashioned ram-
bling hotel in the quaint flttle town of
L , in Germany, where I sat that
night. It was winter. Without it
was dark and desolate. The naked
brauches of the trees swayed and
tossed as if tortured by the cruel
blasts from the north. The tiny river
that erstwhile danced so gayly over
the stones in its 6ed at the foot of the
garden was stilled and stiffened in an
icv embrace, and the wind moaned and
%>
rattled at the casements like a belated
wan de ver begging for shelter.
Within there was warmth and 4!ght
and luxury. The monumental porcelain
stove placed close up in a corner as if,
like a superfluous piece of furniture, to
{jet it out of the way, had unobtrusive-
ly diffused a delicious, languorous
summer warmth throughout the room.
A softly-shaded lamp burned upon the
table, and I, wrapped in a cozy tea-
gown, was half reclining on a quaint
old chaise-longue. I had been read-
ing the "Lotus Eaters." The lines
"How sweet it were
With half-shut, eyos ever to seem
Falling asleep in a half dream!
were still running through my head.
I was full of the spirit of the poem.
My old nurse and constant companion
sat in the next room where I could see
her through the opeh door nodding,
nodding so sleepily. The cathedral
tones of the old c lock on the shelf fell
upon my ears. I counted the strokes—
one, two, three, four, five, six, seven,
eight, nine, ten, eleven.
It was time to send nurse to bed; but,
lazily I watched her head drop again
and again, too idly content to find will
enough to speak to her. The house
was profoundly still. I could hear the
regular breathing of the nurse, and
eveu my own heart-throbs.
Suddenly I was aroused by the light
steps of slippered feet on the stone
floor of the hall. They halted, there
was a hurried tap at my door, and, be-
fore I had time to assume a sitting
posture, the door was flung open and
there stood a gentleman. I rose to
my feet and begged to know to what
chance I was indebted for so untimely
a visit. He closed the door gently,
then with his usual superb manner
saluted me; 441 beg your pardon,
madam, if I have intruded. 1 was go-
ing to my room, and seeing a light
under your door, thought I might
. venture to stop for a few moments'
chat with you."
I had been in L a year, and liad
met the intruder, Mr. B--—, frequent-
ly at his sisters house; he had also
called upon me, so we were not
strangers. He was a man of rather
attractive personal appearance, about
medium height, slender and graceful,
with the manners of an old courtier.
He was a fine musician and linguist,
and well versed in the history and
literature of the several countries
whose language he spoke, and was
also a brilliant conversationalist
St ill, notwithstanding all these accom-
plishments and his charming manners,
there was something repellent about
the man, something undefinable, that
made every one half afraid of him.
Well, in reply to the implied ques-
tion as to whether he might remain or
feared I must ask that the visit might
be brief.
•'As brief as you desire, madam,"
said he; "only there is something I
should like to tell you before I go."
He eyed me curiously as I sat down,
and I felt a shiver of repugnance go
over me. He advanced to the table,
took up a volume of Mrs. Browning,
and, after turning over the leaves sev-
eral times, read:
44 As one alone; once not alone,
I sit and knock at Nature's door,
Heart-bare, heart-hungry, very poor,
Whose desolated days go on.'1
Closing the book with a sigh, he
said, as he began to pace up and down
the room: "Did you know that I was
once engaged to be married? I never
see Mrs. Browning without thinking
of my fiancee." Then for some time
he walked to and fro, apparently ob-
livious of my presence, quoting from
German, French and English authors,
and withal delightfully, until one
stroke of the clock admonished me
that it wanted but a half hour till mid-
night I reminded Mr. B that a
half hour had gone by and he had not
yet told me the object of his visit I
suggested that what he had to tell me
might do for a serial story, and I
would take the poetry for the intro-
ductory.
He flashed a savage glance over to-
ward me. One quick step and he was
at my side, saying, in a low tone:
•'Why does she sit tjiere?" pointing to
my old nurse. "Send her away."
I replied: "1 shall as soon as you are
gone." With a devilish look that de-
fies description he stooped till his face
was close to mine and said, per-
emptorily: "Send her away, I tell
you." I had heard a short time be-
fore that at one time in his life Mr.
B had been insane, but I had
doubted it. It was rare to find a more
cultivated or elegant man or one who
was more punctilious in the ob-
servance of all the conventionalities
of society. That moment his face was
like the face of a demon, and as I
looked into his eyes I doubted it no
longer, and my heart sank like lead
within me. What if the old weakness
had attacked him again? 1 asked my-
self. At that hour I knew that every
soul in the hotel would be in bed, and
the nurse and m\\self were virtually
alone. Did I dare to call for help?
His eyes were fixed upon me. 1 think
he read my thoughts. An impulse to
protect myself made me rise and move
toward the hall door. Quick as a
flash he stepped in front of me, locked
the door, held the key up before me
for an instant, then dropped it into his
pocket. I knew now that 1 had an in-
sane man to deal with. But how? It
would take all the courage and self-
possession I could muster to do it.
There was little time to consider; if I
made a false move there was no telling
what might be the result.
The nurse still sat nodding in her
chair. It was useless to alarm her,
for I knew she was too timid to be of
any service to me; but I must act I
quietly went to her and told her to go
to her room—it adjoined the one in
which she sat—but not to go to bed, as
I might need her. Then assuming the
coolest manner possible, I crossed the
sitting-room, opened the stove door
and renewed the fire, and while my
face was turned from him, said: "The
farce has lasted an hour, Mr. B ,
and I fail to appreciate it. However,
if I still have patience to listen, will
you tell me why you are here?" I rose
then and resumed my seat on the chaise-
longue.
He always moved quickly, but
stealthily, like a cat; and with some
such movement he came behind me
and whispered, close, close to my ear:
"Are you not afraid of me?" With
my blood fairly standing still in my
veins I answered: "Not at all. Why
should I be? You must be out of your
mind."
"That's just it," said he. Then re-
suming his walk up and down the
room, he continued: "Did you never
hear that I had once been insane?"
"Yes," I replied, "I did hear some-
thing of the kind; but that was many
years ago, I believe; an illness, was
it not? However, whatever you were
then will hardly excuse you for your
conduct to-night." He stopped, eyed
me curiously for a moment, then
crossed the room swiftly to where I sat,
and stooping, put his hand about my
throat He clasped it with his long,
slender fingers, gently, very gently as
he said: 4 4What a strange, evanescent
thing life is; I could crush it out so
easily—see!" with a closer pressure—
"i could kill you with my thumb and
, finger."
I disengaged the hand, and, pointing
to a chair near me, I begged him to be
seated. He obeyed. I asked: "Do you
remember any thing of your life in the
asylum?" A sad, pained look came
over his face; the demon was over-
come for the moment at least I had
struck the right chord. He replied:
"Yes; I remember every thing. Shall
not, I said that I had been in the land I tell it to you?"
of the lotus-eaters, pointing at the Glad of the respite and hoping to
same time to the book I had laid upon
the table; that the spell oí the lotus
leaves had almost closed my eyelids,
that my old nurse was nodding,-and I
find a way to control him eventually, I
settled myself to listen to his story* I
give it in his own words as nearly as I
«anrecall them:
I
"From the lime I was sixteen years
of age I was a sort of wanderer. I
was educated partly in Germany and
finished at Oxford, Eng. Thence I
went to France, where I spent two
years, and after that I lived some time
in Australia. I finally landed in India,
where I expected to go into business
with my brother-in-law. A short time
after my arrival there I suffered a sun-
stroke which almost cost me my life
and utterly dethroned my reason. For
six months I was a great care to my
sister, but "at the end of that time I
was entirely restored, both mentally
and physically, and we determined to
go to St. Petersburg. It had been our
childhood home, and shortly after our
arrival there we were in the fashion-
able world, meeting old friends and
making new acquaintances. Among
the latter was the Couiitess L., a
lovely girl of nineteen years. She
had soft dark eyes full of passion, a
complexion like a ripe peach, and a
mouth—ah! I dare not recall her face;
it makes me mad even now, and I am
old and gray, and she is—dead.
4'Enough. I loved her, I won her
love. The formalities of a betrothal
were gone through with, our friends
had congratulated us, and within a few
months we were to have been married.
I was wild with happiness. Alas! why
did I not die then! I had unbounded
faith in her, my lady love, but I be-
came absurdly jealous. I was haunt-
ed by all sorts of fears. It was as if
some evil spirit had taken possession
of me, which neither my reason nor
her devoted affection could exorcise.
I would lie awake at night and im-
agine I heard her calling to me for
help; at another time some fiend
would whisper to me that my love was
untrue. So I doubted and trusted her
by turns and almost broke her heart
with my foolish fancies. 1 knew that
all my trouble was but the effect of a
sickly imagination, and I would de-
termine again and again to fight off
the weakness, only to become more
and more a victim. So my nights
were spent in torture and my days in
agony, lest some one should discover
my condition.
"One day I became possessed with
the idea that my fiancee had need of
me. I could hear her sigh and weep.
I hurried to the house, gained admis-
sion, and when she cattle to meet me
I fell at her feet and implored her to
tell me the cause of her trouble. She
coldly repelled me; told me I was jeal-
ous of phantoms; that I had annoyed
her greatly and she would decline to
see me again unless 1 could behave
like a sane man. 4Like a sane man.'
Was I insane then? Whether I was
or not., she had aroused a demon in
me. I jumped to my feet, sprang at
her like a tiger and clasped her in
these arms so savagely that 1 crushed
and frightened the poor darling out of
life. She uttered a despairing cry,
and the next moment she lay at my
feet like a frozen flower. Can you
conccivc of my agony as I looked at
her, dead, quite dead, as I supposed.
I had killed the woman I adored, and
I knew I was mad. Yes, a lunatic.
She had seen it and I had half realized
it myself for some time, but 1 had kept
the secret from my friends with all the
cunning of a lunatic.
••Well, they bound me and took me to
my home. I was adjudged insane and
was sent to an asylum, where for ten
years I lived upon the rack; conscious
of my surroundings; recalling daily
the parting scenes with my fiancee; the
hurried seizure of my person, my
bound arms and the final turning of
the key of my prison.
4 4All sorts of fancies kept my b rain
in a whirl. At one time I thought that
the flies in my room were soldiers and
I would try and marshal them in line;
and because they would not obey I
would go into violent paroxysms of
rage which would always end in a
strait-jacket. Then a long blank
would follow, and when another lucid
moment would come I could remember
distinctly all that had occurred. The
one illusion that was with me ever,
even in my sanest moments, was that
when I killed my beloved that her spirit
had entered a dove which had found
its way into my room and hovered
above me always. When" I lifted my
eves I could see her ever with out-
spread wings, and my ears were filled
with her soft cooing.
"My recovery was retarded because
I could not eat. Try as I would I
could not make myself swallow. I
knew that food was placed upon the
table tor me to cat, and I would trv
9 %.
again and again to lift it to my lips,
but my will was not strong enough to
compel obedience of my hands. When
my keepers forced me to swallow it
seemed to me that I could hear the
dove attering the most painful cries,
and upon her white breast would ap-
pear a drop of blood as if I had
wounded her. There were intervals
when I realized that these sights and
sounds were onlv illusions, and that if
•* '
I could only control myself I could be
set free. I dreaded the horrors of the
strait-jacket, and knew well that if I
did not keep quiet I should have to
wear it Alas! in another moment all
my tormenting fancies would return
and the old experiences were lived
through once more. In this way al-
most ten years of my life passed away.
In all that time I had never voluntarily
swallowed a morsel of fooé.
"At length my physical condition
was such that my sister determined to
bring me to South Germany, where
there was a celebrated insane expert
I remember distinctly the first time he
came into my room. I was conscious
of no physical presence, I only saw a
pair of enormous, persuasive, com-
pelling eyes, which were following me
about the room and enforcing obedi-
ence. I was their captive, their
slave. A cup of bread and milk was
placed upon the table. The eyes bade
me eat of it. I tried to lift the cup
but could not. The eyes came toward
me, I felt the touch of the spoon upon
my lips, the taste of food in my mouth,
and I swallowed it You can not guess
the joy I felt. No strait-jacket con-
fined me, the dove moaned no longer,
I was free at last. So for days and
weeks these watchful eyes, which
seemed to burn into my very soul,
came to conquer me, and I grew strong
and restful. I could think, I could
reason, I knew some mighty change
was taking place in me.
4'One day the eyes came as usual
and stopped just opposite me where a
flood of light from the window fell
full upon them. Suddenly there ap-
peared round about them a luminous
mass, which, as I gazed, formed itself
slowly into first a forehead, then a
chin and cheeks. Oh, heavens! it was
a man's face. I was too fascinated to
move. . Gradually I saw the shoulders
forming, then the arms and body, and
finally the feet, which were advancing
toward me. A voice said: 'Come, Mr.
B , will you not have some break-
fast?' I was utterly submissive, and
we sat upon the edge of the bed while
he fed me the contents of a bowl ho
held in his hand. From that day
I knew only his will, and as my health
improved my reason was gradually re-
stored. I slept, ate and lived like any
other man.
"One day in June, ten years from the
time I was first locked up, I was in-
vited to take tea with the doctor's
family. You can imagine my sensa-
tions when 1 was received by the doc-
tor's wife in the family room. I knew
that I had been insane and that I was
cured, and hereafter I was to be freo.
I resumed my relations with my family
before a great while, and was per-
mitted to go home. I have lived a
wandering life ever since, but, strange-
ly enough, never daring to stay away
for any length of lime from my dear
doctor of the eyes. There have been
times dui ing the last ten years when a
very devil would seem to enter my
body, but a couple of weeks under the
doctor's care would always rid me
of it
"I am at this moment not entirely
sane. Have you not seen it? My
abrupt entrance into your parlor to-
night and my threatening to kill you
should have alarmed you. Why did
you not call assistance? Why, even
now, with the slightest pressure upon
your throat I could stop your breath."
I was quite alone. The fire had
died down and my teeth were chat-
tering with the cold. The lamp had
almost burned out; the whole house,
the village even, was wrapped in
slumber. With a superhuman effort
I rose to my feet and said coolly and
distinctly: "Your story was most in-
teresting. If it is not all told let us
have it 'to be continued,' " and smil-
ingly I stepped to the door and took
the knob in one hand, while I held out
the other one for the key. He handed
it to me and I unlocked the door, never
taking my eyes from his for an instant.
I opened the door; he bent over, and,
like a courtier of the olden time, lifted
my finger to his lips, and with the re-
mark: "You are a brave woman,"
passed out into the hall. I closed the
door, locked it and drew the bolt. I
glanced at the clock. It was about to
strike three. For three hours then I
had been locked in that room alone
with a madman. The strain was over;
my strength was gone; my knees gave
way under mc; my head swam. 1
tried to call and then all was oblivion.
My nurse told me I was lying against
the door stone dead when she found
me. I never hear the shuffle of slip-
pered feet that I do not shudder. It
always recalls that night of terror.
As soon as I recovered from my
fright I was told that about ten o'clock
in the morning the "doctor of the
eyes" had come and taken Mr. B to
the asylum.
The above story fs true in every de-
tail. —Boston Globe.
—New Tenant (in a towering rage)
— "See here, sir, before renting that
house for a year I asked you if any of
the neighbors were musicians, and
you said they were not Sir, that's
the noisiest neighborhood I ever got
into. Every house on the street has a
piano or cabinet organ, to say nothing
of fiddles, flutes, cornets and banjos."
Real Estate Agent (calmly) — "My
dear sir, none of your neighbors are
musicians. They only think they are."
—Philadelphia Record*
PERSONAL AND LITERARY.
—Miss Lucy Larcom was an Illinois
school-teacher in pioneer days.
—E. P. Roe, the dead novelist, onoe
sawed nine cords of hard wood in or-
der to pay for his father's subscription
to "Horace Greeley's paper."
—Mrs. Humphrey Ward, the author
of 4'Robert Elsmere," is an Australian,
having been born at Hobart Her
father, Mr. Thomas Arnold, held an
educational position in Tasmania,
where he married the daughter of Gov-
ernor Sorell.
—John Bright never commits a
speech to memory. He merely makes
notes and leaves the words to oome
when speaking. Occasionally he writes
short passages, and almost invariably
his concluding words or sentences.
Mr. Gladstone seldom refers even to a
note, and never prepares a single
sentence.
—Mrs. Kate Upson Clark, whose
name is now seen so freque&tly in cur-
rent literature, is a witty little woman
of thirty-five or so, with a husband,
three boys and domestic tastes. Her
favorite costume is the Mother Hub-
bard, and she thinks it combines all
the virtues that aesthetic and hygienic
reformers are looking for.
—Mrs. Mona Caire, who started the
discussion on "Is Marriage a Failure?"
spends most of her time on a large es-
tate in Hampshire, dividing her time
between superintending her farm and
performing literary work on a type-
writer. She is the author of two or
three novels, and is as bright in con-
versation as she is radical on all social
questions.
—Mrs. Mary Bryan was born and
reared in an isolated home in Florida,
without school advantages. Married
at fourteen, she began writing when
not more than fifteen years old, and
before she was eighteen she was edi-
tor of a political tri-weekly. A year
or two later she took full editorial
charge of the Sunny Souths weekly
story paper published in Atlanta, and
kept two serial stories constantly
running, in addition to her editorial
labor.
—Archbishop Cranmer's library,
which was one of the finest collections of
fifteenth and sixteenth century litera-
ture, has lately been discovered after
having been long entirely lost sight
of. Besides numerous manuscripts,
267 printed books have been found in
the British Museum, twenty in the
Cambridge University library, eight-
een at Lambeth Palace and five in the
Bodleian Library at Oxford. Many of
the bindings are engraved with Cran-
mer's monogram and mi'„er.
—Lord Tennyson is not, as some
people believe, enshrouded in im-
penetrable gloom, for ho has relaxed
again into social gayety of a. mild type.
The poet regards Mary Anderson with
an affectionate interest and considers
her 44a living, breathing poem." Dur-
ing her recent visit to the poet's home
in New Forest, she was appointed high
priestess of his Lordship's pipe. She
filled and lighted it for him, and had
conferred upon her the title of "Min-
istering Angel of Tobacco.
HUMOROUS.
<• -Hens do not live to bo old for the
reason that they are killed and sold
for spring chickens as soon as they
lose their teeth.—N. O. Picayune.
—She—"Why do you take such an
interest in politics, Henry?" He—
"Because, my dear, Í have so much
principal invested."— Washington Post.
—Next to the small boy on the front
seat at a base-ball game, the most re-
markable case of absorption we ever
saw was that of a cat which stepped
on some floating sawdust in a mill-
pond with the impression that it was
solid.—Once a Week.
—"Don't fret John," said Mrs.
Wiggins. "You've lost nearly every-
thing you had in the world, I know,
but remember you've still got me."
•'Yes," said John, with another heart-
felt groan. "That's just what I was
thinking."—Journal of Education.
—Proprietor (to recently engaged
waiter)—"You will have to go; I can't
keep you." New waiter—"What's
the matter?" Proprietor—"When-
ever a customer asks you if the fish is
fresh you get red in the face. You'd
break up the whole business in a short
time."—Texas Siftings.
—"How many sons have* you?"
"Three, and two of them are right
good boys." "What's the matter with
the third?" 44Well, you see, Tom and
Bill stuck to the farm and worked
hard but Jim he went to the city, and
he's never done a lick of work."
"What business is he in?" "He's a
champion of the laboring man."—Lin-
coln Journal.
—She—"Mr. Pteintheart, did you
read that sad case in New York where
that poor girl died from heart disease
on receiving a proposal?" He—
"Yes, it was sad." She—"Very,
indeed. What made it more in-
teresting to me was the fact that the
doctor examined my heart only last
week and found it perfectly sound."
Before be went home one chair was
amply sufficient—Terre EatUe Express*.
* m
. WfBfeg 11' J-r-
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Miller, Freeman E. The Canadian Crescent. (Canadian, Tex.), Vol. 2, No. 3, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 15, 1888, newspaper, November 15, 1888; Canadian, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth183586/m1/3/: accessed May 15, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Hemphill County Library.