UBIT. OF CALIP. tIBBAIK. WS
 
 AND 
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 BY 
 
 W. A. HOLLAND. 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY, 
 
 PUBLISHER, 
 
 LONDON. NEW YORK.
 
 Copyright, 1896. 
 
 bj 
 ". TannrsoN NKXLT, 
 
 in 
 United Statec 
 
 and 
 Great Britain. 
 
 All Ri*bt Referred.
 
 TO 
 JOHN W. GATES, 
 
 A TOKEN OF ESTEEM AND GRATEFUL APPRECIATION OF 
 AH INTEREST AND KINDNESS, FOR WHICH THB 
 AUTHOR IS INDEBTED, THIS VOLUME 
 13 RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. 
 
 2130156
 
 ALLIQUIPPA; 
 
 OB, 
 
 The Story of an Appalachian Prince.
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE contention between Great Britain and 
 France for the possession of the territory which 
 now constitutes Western Pennsylvania, contin- 
 ued without the least abatement within the 
 borders of the New World at the time of the 
 opening of thia story, in the month of roses, 
 1749, notwithstanding the treaty of Aix-la- 
 Chapelle, whereby hostilities were supposed to 
 have ceased. 
 
 That indomitable spirit for conquest and the 
 desire for the possession of this as yet unknown 
 region, burned as fiercely as ever within the 
 loyal bosoms of the sons of Charlemagne and 
 those of the British Isles, when in June, 1749, 
 the Marquis de la Galissoniere, Governor-Gen- 
 eral and Com m and an t-in -Chief of New France, 
 dispatched his faithful aid-de-camp, MOD. Cele- 
 ron de Bienville, down the Allegheny Eiver with 
 a train of gay and adventurous chevaliers and a 
 upply of leaden plates, which were buried
 
 8 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 within the soil of this then disputed territory, 
 along the shores of what was known to them as 
 the River Au Boeuf, or the Eiver Beautiful. 
 
 By these inscriptions and proclamations buried 
 with much ceremony, New France was supposed 
 to have thus easily extended its already majestic 
 empire within the New World, a land that to 
 these Old World sovereigns appeared as one of 
 never-ending riches. It was a region in whose 
 conquest many a noble and gallant life was 
 offered upon the altar of the Old World's dream 
 of enlarged dominion. 
 
 Among the command commissioned to take 
 possession of this vast territory in the name of 
 Louis XV., was a Jesuit priest by the name of 
 Pierre Morin. It was his duty to chant a psalm 
 as each token supposed to signify that the King 
 of France had officially taken possession of this 
 far-stretching wilderness was consigned to the 
 earth, and say a prayer beseeching the good 
 favor and kindly offices of Him most high for 
 the continued expansion of that monarch's do- 
 main, that domain whose insignia was the fleur-de- 
 lis, that emblem of a royal house, whose hopes 
 in these days of conquest in the land of the 
 golden West were beyond the dreams of avarice. 
 
 A halt had been made by these emissaries of 
 the King of France upon their journey down
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. $ 
 
 that river beneath a giant oak, whose emerald 
 canopy extended its friendly shade far out'across 
 the waters, its image faithfully reflected upon 
 the river's mirror-like bosom. 
 
 The vast wilderness was all about them gor- 
 geous in its foliage, bedecked in the hues of the 
 early summer-time. The silence was but dis- 
 turbed by the soft, murmuring waters, the song 
 of the wild birds, or the gentle rustle of the foli- 
 age as the startled deer timidly peered forth from 
 their friendly shelter among the dense thickets 
 bordering the river, and with mingled curiosity 
 and fear watched that glittering flotilla descend 
 the River Au Boauf upon its mission. 
 
 At the foot of this oak was buried one of the 
 leaden plates, whereon was proclaimed that the 
 King of France had taken possession of all the 
 lands on both sides of the river, a possession that 
 would be upheld by force of arms and by virtue 
 of the treaties of Eiswick, Utrecht, and Aix-la- 
 Chapelle. 
 
 Pierre Morin had chanted a psalm and asked a 
 blessing; men were again embarking to resume 
 the voyage. There were cries of "Long live the 
 King," "Hail to his Gracious Majesty, " and 
 "Vive la France. " 
 
 Eager anticipation filled each and every bosom 
 of that loyal and adventurous band.
 
 10 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 Within Pierre Morin's breast there also burned 
 the desire for conquest, but not for the aggran- 
 dizement of treasures worldly. He would fain 
 lay up his store in the Kingdom of Heaven, since 
 the riches of the world faded away, while those 
 of God were to last forever. 
 
 He likewise had come to the New World to 
 garner its riches, a wealth that was to be obtained 
 by carrying the tidings of a Savior's love unto 
 the Indians and teaching them that story of 
 redemption, thus opening up to them the heri- 
 tage of a life beyond the grave. Fain would he 
 enlarge that Savior's domain, whose standard 
 was the cross and whose grace and mercy were 
 without end. 
 
 Ae he stood beneath the oak with the flashing 
 waters of the river winding away through the 
 wilderness before him, the charm of leafy June, 
 with the spirit of the beautiful spring-time full 
 upon him, that season of hope and future prom- 
 ise of the harvest-time, a feeling and desire to 
 cast himself adrift from the train of the King of 
 France, and make his way into the wilderness to 
 serve that King on high, took possession of him. 
 His presence was screened by the dense and 
 luxuriant foliage so that amid the embarking his 
 absence would easily be unnoticed. 
 
 In the shadow of this spreading foliage stood
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 11 
 
 this pious man, parleying with a life of virtue or 
 one of earthly greed. Two pathways stretched 
 away before him. It was for him to choose. He 
 stood perfectly still with bated breath ; for he 
 felt that the critical period of his life was upon 
 him. Should he proceed with his friends and 
 companions and continue to serve beneath that 
 banner of the Fleur-de-lis, in its lust for ex- 
 tended power, or accept the promptings of his 
 pious heart and seek the wilderness, humbly 
 serving beneath the banner of the cross? 
 
 One by one the batteaux, with their worldly 
 trappings and eager and impatient chevaliers, 
 were loosened from their moorings and slowly 
 drifted down the river. The last of the batteaux 
 was taking aboard its anchor; should he cry out 
 to halt? Involuntarily his hand sought the 
 cross that hung by his side, its inspiring and 
 magic touch seemed to have brought decision to 
 his questioning and wavering heart. 
 
 Henceforth, beneath the banner of the cross, 
 beneath that inspiring and heavenly emblem, 
 would he labor within that master's vineyard, 
 whose rewards were beyond all earthly computa- 
 tion. His life would be devoted to the task of 
 earning everlasting peace within these endless 
 forests. He raised the cross before his eyes and 
 steadily gazed upon it until the. shouts and
 
 12 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 laughter of the fast-lessening flotilla grew fainter 
 and fainter. Through an opening of the oaken 
 branches he watched with tear-dimmed eyes that 
 disappearing vision of the world, its greed and 
 avarice. Thus he stood and tearfully gazed, 
 until a bend in the river hid from him the last 
 vestige of friends and civilization. 
 
 Within the heart of a depthless wilderness, 
 upon the bank of this murmuring river, with the 
 twilight softly casting its somber shades about 
 him, Pierre Morin knelt in prayer. Unto these 
 desolate and unexplored mountain fastnesses did 
 he dedicate his life. Within these unknown 
 depths was to be attained the realization of his 
 dream of all earthly peace. That merciless fury 
 of the Reformation within the Old World had 
 caused him to flee unto the arms of the New, 
 within whose wilds he had now cast himself 
 adrift and chosen this silent and austere land 
 wherein to labor and teach the Indians the storj- 
 of undying grace. As he arose from his knees 
 the good priest was startled to see before him, 
 like a statue in bronze, rigid and silent, an Indian 
 youth regarding him with a curious and wistful 
 gaze. 
 
 That meeting, so wildly and weirdly romantic, 
 seemed to have been ordained by Him who doeth 
 all things well. The Lord it seemed had sent
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 13 
 
 Pierre Morin a friendly Indian, without whose 
 helpful offices it is doubtful whether the priest 
 would have ever survived in life that path so 
 nobly chosen. The meeting of these two human 
 beings, beneath the friendly shades of this 
 spreading oak, they who were so wonderfully 
 dissimiliar, and yet so sorely in need of each 
 other's companionship and help at this very 
 moment, seemed indeed as if it had been prear- 
 ranged by Him to whom the future is as legible 
 as the past. 
 
 There upon the bank of that river, within an 
 unknown land, unable to understand each other, 
 save by signs and manifest objects, commenced 
 a friendship between an Indian prince and 
 Pierre Morin that remained unshaken and un- 
 dimmed while life did last. One versed and 
 schooled in the ways of the world, richly en- 
 dowed with the learning and lore of the past, 
 Greek and Latin an open book to him ; the other, 
 forsooth, a child of Nature, beautiful and fair, 
 versed in the lore of the wilderness, the haunts 
 of the beaver, the deer and the bear, the chest- 
 nut groves and fertile vales, the bubbling springs 
 of crystal water, were his only store of wisdom. 
 
 Alliquippa, the Indian youth, had been 
 charmed and delighted with his new-found 
 friend, while the priest had been grateful be-
 
 14 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 yond words for the helpful companionship of this 
 child of the hills, he who was no other than an 
 Indian prince, the son of a king of the mighty 
 Senecas. 
 
 The wisdom of the Old World fascinated and 
 charmed the child of the New. Alliquippa 
 proved the most dutiful and eager pupil. 
 Noble by birth and noble by nature, he was a 
 pearl, as it were, set amid surroundings of the 
 commonplace within an endless wilderness ; one 
 of those eccentricities of nature, who ofttimes 
 places her rarest jewels amid an environment of 
 uncongeniality. The poet not infrequently 
 springs up within the thatch-roofed cottage, while 
 the scapegrace is ofttimes reared and bred within 
 palace walls. 
 
 Nature had implanted within the bosom of 
 Alliquippa a spirit of natural refinement which 
 pervaded his entire being, as the perfume does 
 the flower. His naturally noble-and beautiful soul 
 had alienated him from the very tribe of his fath- 
 ers. Lonely he had wandered within the forests, 
 filled with a nameless longing. His only delight 
 had been the song of the wild-birds and nature. 
 Only too glad was he to be free from the ghost 
 dances and Indian orgies with which he had 
 naught in common. Like a flower that seeks the 
 sunlight amid a growth of weeds and tares, Alii-
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 15 
 
 quippa had striven for and found solace within 
 the whispering forest, away from the wigwams 
 with their debauches and vice. He loved the 
 wilderness, the trees, the river and the wildwood 
 blossoms through whose scented meshes he sadly 
 roamed. During the summer-time his bed had 
 been the carpet of fallen leaves beneath the oak, 
 whose whispering boughs gently lulled him to 
 slumber, while during the winter his wigwam 
 had always been pitched upon the brow of a 
 mountain beneath the sheltering branches of the 
 stately pine. Thus alone he had dwelt, removed 
 from the uncongenial surroundings of the Indian 
 village, from whose sordid bosom he had so 
 strangely sprung. Like a wild flower he had 
 bloomed unappreciated, unseen and unknown, 
 until the day of that meeting by the Kiver Au 
 Boeuf. 
 
 Together Pierre Morin and Prince Alliquippa 
 had made their way into the forest, carrying the 
 story of the cross into its fastnesses, spreading 
 the seed of religious truth until they had 
 reached the very crest of the Alleghenies. There 
 in solitude upon the uppermost height of the 
 everlasting hills, they had built their lodge and 
 established their mission. 
 
 During the summer-time Pierre Morin sang 
 the service within the forest. His cathedral had
 
 16 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 been a dense grove of giant pines, within whose 
 vaulted isles the sunlight cast flickering shadows. 
 The wild birds were the choristers, the pines the 
 organ, whose anthems swelled and rose with the 
 rising breeze or dwindled into exquisite cadences 
 in soft, sobbing murmurs. Nature itself sup- 
 plied the music as it were. The rose window of 
 this wonderful edifice looked out upon the sky; 
 the hassocks were the velvety moss and fallen 
 leaves. A semicircle of stunted pines at one end 
 of this church of nature, a growth whose sym- 
 metrical shape was so perfect that it almost 
 seemed the hand of man had planned and formed 
 it, was the choir. Nature it seemed here had 
 fashioned a sylvan cathedral within whose ever- 
 green cloister were to worship her children from 
 among these endless hills. 
 
 "Within this woodland shrine knelt the savages 
 in devout and humble adoration of the cross. 
 Here did Pierre Morin bless and teach them. 
 Here blossomed into life the soul of Prince Alli- 
 quippa, one that had wandered alone among the 
 hills, and was yet to learn the lesson of bliss and 
 pain afforded through the medium of civilization, 
 through that gateway of earthly wisdom of form 
 and prejudice. The future to him now appeared 
 but as one unending song, as that lesson of civil- 
 ized life shed its first stray beams about him and
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 17 
 
 made the child of the wilderness, care-free and 
 happy. A flower that had striven unconsciously 
 to reach the sunlight at last had attained it and 
 basked in the blissful shade of the morning dawn, 
 knowing naught of the withering rays of the 
 noonday heat. 
 
 Hitherto Alliquippa's hungry heart had gone 
 out to the mysterious workings of nature. He 
 had worshiped the sun, the stars, and the 
 clouds, the flowers and the birds; these were the 
 things that had created a nameless yearning 
 within him, but now that wondrous story of the 
 cross had fallen upon his inquirng heart, as does 
 the dew upon the parched and withered bloom 
 in a shower of sweet peace and grateful tender- 
 ness.
 
 IS ALLlQUIPfrA. 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 In the early years, -while Pierre Morin zeal- 
 ously pursued his missionary labors upon the 
 crest of the Allegheny Mountains, he had been 
 the first and only member of the Caucasian race 
 that had ever ventured into this far-stretching 
 wilderness, but as the years went by unto these 
 wilds there came other member* of civilization, 
 driven into exile by those persecutions waged so 
 relentlessly in the Reformation within the Old 
 World. 
 
 A hundred years had come and gone since the 
 church had heard again proclaimed that truth 
 which had formed part of her earliest teachings, 
 the wonderful truth of salvation to mankind by 
 grace alone, a salvation by faith without the aid 
 of the pope or priest and their established ritual. 
 That fearless and intrepid Monk of Wittemberg, 
 a hundred years ago had again discovered within 
 the pages of his Bible that salvation was free, 
 free as the air and sunshine around him. More 
 than a century had come and gone since that 
 prayerful monk had made that wonderful discov-
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. Id 
 
 ery of an ancient truth, and had spoken words 
 that had caused the glory of Leo X. and the 
 mighty and all-powerful Church of Borne, then 
 in the very zenith of their glory, to crumble into 
 the dust throughout one-half of Europe. That 
 story of salvation by grace alone had resounded 
 over a century ago from the plains of Saxony. 
 It had spread into the sunny land of Italy, the 
 land of the olive, the fig tree and the vine ; unto 
 the harassed and oppressed peasantry of France 
 and England, this story had made its way and 
 was received in grateful prayer and fervent 
 thanskgiving. The towering snow-capped min- 
 arets of Switzerland's icy peaks had echoed its 
 inspiring song. The springs of truth, liberty 
 and life for church-oppressed mankind had again 
 been opened and gushed forth living waters. 
 Multitudes had drank freely of that won- 
 drous draught, yet within the more remote 
 regions that intense hatred of the established 
 church for its humble rival still burned with an 
 undiminished flame. Its contempt and hatred 
 for the humble teachings of the religion of 
 Luther was as fierce as ever. 
 
 Thomas Yon Merlau had been a native of 
 Graohen, within the Yalais of Switzerland, that 
 beautiful valley through which the torrent of the 
 Yiege rolls its tumultuous waters after escaping
 
 20 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 from the towering glaciers, whose icy barriers 
 had fruitlessly striven to retain them, as had the 
 Church of Rome fain held in bondage forever 
 that living tide from out the far-off plains of 
 Saxony. 
 
 Under the shadows of the Alps, Thomas Von 
 Merlau had wooed and won his bride, she who 
 had been Elizabeth Huss, a direct descendant of 
 tke first martyr of the Reformation. 
 
 Thomas Von Merlau had drunk freely at the 
 fountain of truth, and was established as pastor 
 of a little church on the Isle of Uffuan, within 
 the lake of Zurich, as a humble minister of God's 
 word. Here iti peace did he dwell with his wife 
 and flaxen-haired child. Upon this little isle 
 did he receive the sick and homeless of every 
 creed with the tenderest charity. Unto him 
 came a weary knight one day beseeching aid and 
 shelter, one who pretended to have traveled far 
 and wide, vainly searching for that truth whose 
 peace unto weary mankind was said to be as 
 tranquil and restful as were the still, unruffled 
 waters of this quiet lake, nestling here amid 
 the snow-capped mountains. This weary knight 
 had heard of the little isle upon the placid waters 
 of this quiet lake, an isle whereon it was said 
 sweet peace had made its home, ever serene and 
 tender. Fain would he tarry and rest within its
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 21 
 
 tranquil seclusion, that he might also imbibe of 
 these life-giving waters and learn that lesson by 
 faith alone -which brought -with it, it seemed, 
 hope and peace. 
 
 He had been made welcome by the pastor and 
 his good family, who little dreamed that their 
 guest was a monk in disguise sent upon an errand 
 of merciless assassination, 
 
 The abbot of the neighboring monastery had 
 ponderously reasoned. He had spent days in 
 earnest prayer within his chambers. He had 
 called loudly upon Him who doeth all things 
 well, for light unto his path to guide his now 
 faltering and hesitating footsteps, since it meant 
 that the established church throughout the can- 
 ton or Thomas Von Merlau must die. 
 
 After days spent in deep meditation, the 
 abbot had concluded to remove this heretic who 
 was, after all, but doing a holy service, since did 
 he not lead away from the fold the many sheep 
 who until these late years had knelt in all 
 humility before the confessional, and prostrated 
 themselves before the priest? 
 
 As a consequence, that beautiful summer's 
 night, while the trusting household of Von 
 Merlau, upon the isle of TJffuan, peacefully 
 slumbered, Thomas Von Merlau had been piti- 
 lessly slain by a skillfully wielded dagger-thrust,
 
 22 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 and was found upon the following morning lying 
 upon his bed with his life-blood dripping into a 
 pool upon the floor. Upon his breast was pinned 
 a card, which bore the inscription, "Thus per- 
 isheth a usurper of the mother church and an 
 enemy of the pope," while the pretended knight 
 in search of peace had escaped beneath the 
 friendly shades of night. 
 
 Dame Von Merlau felt her heart within her 
 turn to stone as she gazed upon that rigid form 
 before her ; he who had BO tenderly loved her, 
 and who in life had had naught save charitj r for 
 all mankind. Through the open vine-wreathed 
 window she gazed in stony grief across the placid 
 waters of the lake. 
 
 The morning sunshine shed its richness about 
 her, its golden rays streamed across the case- 
 ment and fell athwart the bed with its ghastly 
 burden. It shone upon the distant icy peaks 
 whose glittering surface reflected its rays in 
 shining splendor, while upon the face of the! 
 martyred apostle of Luther by her side there 
 rested a peaceful smile. 
 
 By that bedside Dame Von Merlau knelt, and 
 laid her head upon that pulseless breast. 
 Across the quiet waters floated the chimes from 
 out the tower of the monastery on the shore of 
 the lake calling the monks to prayer. Among
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 23 
 
 that band of cowled and dark-robed figures, 
 softly stealing to the matins, was the assassin of 
 the pastor of the isle of Uffuan, who knelt at the 
 abbot's feet for absolution and forgiveness, 
 while by the bedside of his victim knelt a pros- 
 trate figure within whose bosom a once tender 
 and loving heart was turned to stone. As she 
 knelt there Dame Yon Merlau felt a hatred 
 toward the established church, its servants and 
 symbols arise within her of such a fierceness, 
 while the matin bell called the monks to prayer, 
 that it almost alarmed her. By that bedside she 
 swore undying hate for this monstrous church, 
 a hate that she was to cherish and foster while 
 life lasted.
 
 24 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 IN old colonial days Sir William Penn, upon 
 the banks of the Delaware, established an asylum 
 for fugitives fleeing from the persecution of the 
 Old World. Unto these friendly and aa yet vir- 
 gin wilds fled an army of weary and oppressed 
 souls with hopeful and eagerly expectant bosoms. 
 The edict had gone forth that Pennsylvania was 
 the province of peace, where each man could 
 worship in whatever manner he pleased, as well 
 as a province that stood ever ready to receive all 
 sorts and conditions of men. When the proprie- 
 tor of this province of peace purchased from the 
 powerful Six Nations all the land west of the 
 Susquehanna River "as far as the setting sun," 
 it was generally accepted and understood that 
 the crest of the Appalachian range or Allegheny 
 Mountains mark the western boundary of the 
 territory thus acquired, so that for almost a cen- 
 tury those towering mountain fastnesses rose as 
 a natural barrier against the rest of the conti- 
 nent, but driven from their European homes, the
 
 ALLIQUIPPA 25 
 
 white men sought these hills, and invaded their 
 solitude in quest of peace and religious freedom. 
 
 That religious persecution long continued 
 within the principalities of Germany and Swit- 
 zerland had caused that proclamation of peace 
 from this friendly province in the New World to 
 fall gratefully upon the weary and tired hearts 
 along the castled and storied Ehine, and among 
 the snow-capped peaks of Switzerland. Among 
 those who had fled from the turmoil of strife and 
 warfare and sought shelter within the forest land 
 of Penn, had been Dame Von Merlau, with her 
 daughter Elizabeth, and their ever-faithful serv- 
 ant John. 
 
 Dame Von Merlau and her flaxen-haired and 
 dainty daughter, whose youth and beauty shone 
 like a bit of Dresden among a collection of 
 earthenware, had been within the first immi- 
 grant wagon drawn by oxen of that pioneer train 
 which slowly and with great toil wound its way 
 through the pent-up forests toward the land of 
 the West, toward that solitude wherein Pierre 
 Morin and his sylvan cathedral flourished. 
 
 Within the foremost rank of the pioneer caval- 
 cade whose intrepid daring paved the way from 
 the seaside to the world beyond the mountains 
 had been the one time mistress of the parsonage 
 on tho isle of Uffuan ? nestling within the peaceful
 
 2,5 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 -waters of the lake of Zurich. She, with her 
 heart embittered forever by that merciless ex- 
 perience at the hands of the Church of Rome, 
 was fleeing with her child into the \vilderness, 
 away from scenes that nature had created more 
 beautiful than pen can describe. Yet those 
 scenes of her childhood, through the strife and 
 contention of those Old "World institutions, had 
 caused her to loathe their very sight and name. 
 Into the depths of the wilderness she desired to 
 penetrate, finding consolation in the hope that 
 she was fleeing forever from the Catholic Church 
 to rest her weary and tired heart within the 
 bosom of an endless forest, free from an influence 
 that in her native land had serpent-like enmeshed 
 her and robbed her of all that her heart held 
 dear, save her daughter Elizabeth, who was now 
 but fifteen years of age, and whom her fond 
 mother's heart forever feared the poisonous coils 
 of this hateful church would also at last destroy. 
 Through the mysterious agency called Fate, 
 her footsteps seemed guided toward the very 
 magnet from which she fain would flee. Uncon- 
 scious was this sore-hearted dame that she was in 
 the van of that indomitable and conquering train 
 of civilization and religious liberty, a movement 
 that in those days so persistently pushed its way 
 toward the land of the West within whose bound-
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 27 
 
 less valleys and upon whose almost endless 
 plains religion and civilization were at last to 
 maintain forever undisputed possession and form 
 but a part of liberty's vast domain, whose sym- 
 bol is the stars and whose scepter is freedom. 
 
 In her flight from the Old World Dame Von Mer- 
 lau had found herself among a band of Germans 
 who were also fleeing from the persecution 
 within the land of the Lower Palatinate border- 
 ing upon the river Rhine near the provinces of 
 Alsace and Lorraine. 
 
 With the hardy children of the Fatherland, 
 the Von Merlaus purchased from Thomas Penn 
 a tract of land and settled within a valley at the 
 foot of the Allegheny Mountains, at the very feet 
 of the hills whereon Pierre Morin was engaged 
 in his missionary labors. 
 
 Within this vale these pioneers had at last 
 found a refuge from the fury of that persecution 
 that had raged far more relentlessly on the Con- 
 tinent than in Great Britain. 
 
 The inhabitants within this valley among the 
 peacefully blue-veiled hills of Pennsylvania had 
 been visited with fire and sword in their native 
 land beyond the seas. They had endured suffer- 
 ings and torture in the steadfastness of their 
 religious conviction compared with which the 
 sufferings of the Puritan and the Quaker seem
 
 28 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 trivial indeed. Under the rule of Philip II., of 
 Spain, history records that six thousand kindred 
 faithful souls had yielded their lives and died 
 for their individual faith, while in the final per- 
 secution in the year 1659 the numbers of the 
 martyred dead almost extinguished some of the 
 then existing heresies. 
 
 The Von Merlaus, who dwelt -within their little 
 cottage amid its old-fashioned flowers within the 
 valley, had they craved for a crest or the pres- 
 tige of an heraldic past, could have traced them- 
 selves with ease to an ancestor who had been 
 burned at the stake. Had that inherent desire 
 for the possession of a family tree worked in 
 tapestry and proudly exhibited been theirs, they 
 would have been able to demonstrate their right 
 to an escutcheon whereon might have been dis- 
 played the tragedy of a Joan of Arc, but a single 
 tragedy whose record has survived the ages; and 
 yet in those days such martyrdom was not at all 
 unusual. 
 
 With thankful hearts they, with their un- 
 worldly neighbors, had taken possession of this 
 valley. Within the primitive wilds of the un- 
 broken forests this hardy pilgrim band from be- 
 yond the sea had chosen to share the life of the 
 deer and the bear for the thing that so few people 
 who possess it ever value that trifle of freedom.
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 29 
 
 Here they had peacefully dwelt, surrounded 
 by towering hills whose summits were crowned 
 by the sighing pines, ignorant of that sylvan 
 shrine within the whispering forest. 
 
 To the sturdy band within the valley the sigh- 
 ing pines seemed to sob and mourn for their 
 kindred who had laid down their lives in that far- 
 away land in the steadfastness of their faith. To 
 them that dark-green foliage which was never 
 blanched by the winter's snow and biting frost, 
 seemed to tenderly perpetuate the memories of 
 their martyred loved ones and softly whisper in 
 numbers of unceasing sadness and awe a song of 
 man's inhumanity to man. 
 
 They had brought with them all the mystical 
 folklore and the quaint belief of their native 
 land: 
 
 " For by the lore of Gorlitz's gentle sage, 
 With the mild mystics of his dreamy age, 
 They read the herbal signs of Nature's page, 
 As once they heard in distant far off bowers, 
 Fair and serene in childhood's happy hours, 
 They dwelt in peace and read their creed in flowers." 
 
 About the mountain home of the Von Merlaus 
 clustered the Old World flowers whose seed had 
 been jealously guarded throughout that long 
 journey. They were to be the only reminder of
 
 30 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 that life upon the lake of Zuiich. The tulips 
 flourished amazingly, while the exterior of their 
 little dwelling was enwreathed by the dainty 
 morning-glory vines ; sweet peas grew in profu- 
 sion, while the hollyhocks in endless color added 
 to the garden their old-time grace. The serv- 
 ant John grew into an enthusiastic bee hunter, 
 and from the leaves of the Indian maize and 
 forest boughs he constructed the beehives which 
 were ranged side by side at the end of the gar- 
 den. Thus amid the bees and flowers Dame Von 
 Merlau and her daughter Elizabeth labored from 
 sunrise till sunset, and during the evenings they 
 read the Bible and the works of Martin Luther, 
 while the life in that far-away land and its miser- 
 able tragedy was slowly fading into a tender and 
 misty memory.
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 31 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PIERRE MORIN would probably have continued 
 his missionary labors for many years in igno- 
 rance of the civilization that was slowly encroach- 
 ing upon him had not a deer sprang across Alli- 
 quippa's pathway one sunshiny summer's day 
 and sped like the wind down the mountain side. 
 
 "With his bow and arrow slung upon his back, 
 Alliquippa, in hot pursuit, leaped from ledge to 
 ledge, eager and flushed with the chase. Now 
 dashing through masses of wild honeysuckle 
 whose crushed blooms were wafted in a shower 
 of petals in their wake ; through the vines of the 
 wild grape, whose wine-scented bloom graced 
 the air with an odor intoxicating in its richness; 
 through the jungles of rhododendrons, whose 
 snowy and pink flowers gleamed like stars; 
 through bubbling mountain streams within 
 whose quiet pools lurked the speckled trout. 
 Down that mountain side fled the deer with the 
 hunter in its wake until the valley was reached, 
 where Alliquippa was infinitely astonished to gee
 
 32 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 before him the first civilized settlement his eyes 
 had ever beheld. 
 
 The virgin soil seemed to lend itself with a 
 productive cheerfulness to the labors of those Old 
 World fugitives, who had jealously guarded 
 their seed and plants during their long journey, 
 as was attested by the gardens within whose 
 flowery precincts the pioneer dwellings nestled. 
 There were roses red and white; tall and stately 
 tiger lilies; hollyhocks in all their splendor, 
 sweet peas and ruddy tulips, graciously inter- 
 mingled with beds of lettuce, rows of currant 
 bushes whose crimson berries gleamed from 
 beneath their shelter of emerald leaves; goose- 
 berry bushes that bowed beneath their luscious 
 burden, while lording it proudly over this feast 
 of fruit and flowers was the autocrat of the old 
 Dutch gardens, the gracious and ever-smiling 
 sunflower, that gently swayed in the summer 
 breeze. 
 
 With untold delight did Alliquippa gaze upon 
 the picture from the Old World spread out before 
 him ; and wondered at the gorgeous wigwams so 
 high and fashioned so wonderfully, surrounded 
 by blooms of such indescribable splendor. Such 
 fields of maize and strange-looking grain he had 
 never seen before. Alliquippa gazed in astonish- 
 ment, fascinated and charmed. In the distant
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 3*5 
 
 fields lie saw the white men labor. "Within the 
 garden surrounding the dwellings were the 
 white-capped dames, sowing and reaping. From 
 out the Von Merlau cottage, with ita outside 
 chimney half-hidden by clinging vines floated 
 the notes of a song, the sweetest and tenderest 
 that Alliquippa had ever heard. Its notes grew 
 clearer and clearer, when glancing in the direc- 
 tion from whence the song proceeded, he beheld 
 a beautiful creature coming toward him, follow- 
 ing the pathway that seemed to lead to the very 
 spot where he was standing. Nearer and nearer 
 came the singer, and he now saw that the desti- 
 nation of this wondrous being was evidently the 
 bubbling spring whose clear, cold water gushed 
 from underneath the rock by his side. A trail- 
 ing wild grapevine afforded a refuge, and from 
 out its scented and friendly cover Alliquippa 
 gazed upon a vision whose beauty shone as did 
 the morning sun. Before him stood Elizabeth 
 Von Merlau, arrayed in a fleecy, white dimity, 
 with a scarlet tulip fastened to the bodice of her 
 dress, her luxuriant flaxen hair was neatly plaited 
 in two thick strands that hung down her back, a 
 complexion of pink and white, eyes like the vio- 
 let, blue and tender. 
 
 With her dimpled arms she lifted the blue 
 delft pitcher filled with water, and daintily tread-
 
 34 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 ing from stone to stone to avoid the moisture 
 about [the spring, she retraced her footsteps, a 
 picture of Old World loveliness, a vision that far 
 surpassed the wildest dreams of grace and 
 beauty this forest prince had ever dreamed. He 
 gazed after that retreating figure in an ecstas.y 
 of delight and rapture. As Alliquippa beheld 
 Elizabeth Von Merlau, something within him 
 leaped into life. His pulse thrilled while his 
 heart beat wildly. 
 
 There by that spring side, beneath the shelter- 
 ing canopy of the wild grapevine, died the last 
 of the old-time life of Alliquippa. All [that was 
 noble and beautiful in his nature was stirred to 
 life that fair summer's day. 
 
 He returned to the home of Pierre Morin, and 
 with unspeakable delight related his discovery. 
 At the very foot of the mountain was that beau- 
 teous land of Heaven, for had he not beheld an 
 angel with a beautiful blue pitcher bearing water 
 from the crystal spring. 
 
 To Pierre Morin these tidings were not a sur- 
 prise, as he had always felt as though some day 
 civilization would of necessity surround him. 
 He had been aware of that exodus from the Old 
 World to the New ere making its home among 
 the hills, and it was not a difficult task to divine 
 what heaven it was that the prince had so unex-
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 35 
 
 peotedly discovered. The following day prince 
 and priest descended the mountain to bid their 
 neighbors welcome, but ere halfway in the 
 valley they met a hunter from the settlement who 
 informed Father Morin that within the valley 
 was the settlement of Helvetia, a colony of exiles, 
 who had fled from the Old World wherein the 
 Reformation was yet raging, and the dwellers of 
 yon valley had fled into the wilderness away from 
 that thrice-hateful bondage of the established 
 church within their native land. 
 
 The good priest had thanked his informant 
 sadly, and with tear-dimmed eyes, retraced his 
 footsteps. Alliquippa was disappointed beyond 
 words at the abandonment of a visit, one that he 
 felt certain had had bliss in store, bliss in once 
 again affording but a glimpse of that beauteous 
 white rose, a rose that bloomed among a wilder- 
 ness of flowers, the sweetest and the fairest of 
 them all. He noticed the priest's sadness as 
 they slowly ascended the mountain, and placing 
 his arm about him he asked him why not go 
 within the valley and bid the white man wel- 
 come. Pierre Morin endeavored to explain what 
 had caused yonder people to flee from their 
 native land, but what was intended as an expla- 
 nation simply mystified the child of nature, he 
 who had but one all-engrossing thought and
 
 36 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 desire, and that was to see Elizabeth Von Merlau 
 once more, and to retrace one's footsteps with 
 tear-dimmed eyes when such a feast for their 
 beholding was in store was beyond the under- 
 standing of Alliquippa. 
 
 From that day the prince chafed beneath the 
 tasks assigned him. What cared he for the teach- 
 ings of this man Paul, or that other man, Peter. 
 What so stupid as the good priest's books, while 
 the sunlight flooded the hills, the wild birds 
 sang, and in yonder vale blossomed a beauteous 
 white rose, ay, a flower of countless grace and 
 mystic charm. Each [day Alliquippa sought the 
 vallej 7 . To him it contained an attraction 1 subtle 
 and resistless, an attraction for which he even at 
 last forsook his good friend and teacher. The 
 pious priest was forsaken. He who had taught 
 him so much somehow at this particular junc- 
 ture struck an alien chord, for did he not advise 
 the expediency of remaining aloof from yonder 
 valley? Perish the thought 1 
 
 And so it was that for a time the crest of the 
 mountain knew Alliquippa no more, while he 
 chose to tarry and make his home within the 
 valley. The bird had flown from beneath the 
 sheltering and fostering wings of its pious and 
 devout protector, who sincerely mourned the 
 loss of his companionship. Prayers, sincere and
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 37 
 
 tender, were offered up each day for the welfare 
 of the Indian prince, that child of the forest 
 whom he had grown to love. That unworldly 
 soul had become charmed and infatuated with 
 the settlement of civilization within the valley. 
 Like the butterfly and the candle. Within .the 
 depths of his pious heart the priest prayed daily 
 that Alliquippa might never have cause to regret 
 that adoration for matters worldly, so frankly 
 shown in all sincerity and virgin simplicity. An 
 adoration lavished upon that picture of life from 
 the Old World, whose refinement had captivated 
 the child of the New. This picture of Old World 
 life and custom, nestling here within the heart 
 of the forests, and before whose shrine the prince 
 of the wildwood bowed in reverence, ay, even 
 more tenderly and devoutly than he had bowed 
 before the cross. He prayed that the beauteous 
 soul of this child of nature might be recognized 
 and valued at its true worth by his new-found 
 friends, friends that had so completely charmed 
 his Alliquippa, dazzled and allured him away 
 from himself and the cross. 
 
 'That bubbling spring beneath the trailing 
 wild grapevine had become unto Alliquippa a 
 fount of never-ending grace. Like those pure 
 and crystal waters springing into the sunlight, 
 there sprung into life within his unworldly
 
 38 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 bosom, nature's love for Elizabeth Von Merlau, 
 an adoration and affection as pure and unworldly 
 as the -waters that there gushed into life. 
 
 "Within his vine-hidden watch-tower Prince 
 Alliquippa silently and patiently waited each 
 day for that dainty maid whose charm and grace 
 had so completely bewitched his senses. Pierre 
 Morin was forgotten, the story of the cross was 
 fast becoming but a memory, while in Elizabeth 
 Von Merlau was embodied for him even a greater 
 beauty and more undying grace than the cross 
 had ever promised. 
 
 How was he to make himself known unto this 
 beauteous creature? His lodge halfway up the 
 mountain side, beneath a grove of birch and 
 chestnut trees had been completed. The cling- 
 ing tendrils of the wild woodbine had been 
 trained about it and lovingly embraced its 
 roughened walls. The wild rose bloomed by its 
 very doorway in fond expectation of the bride to 
 be. 
 
 Elizabeth was seated upon the mossy stone by 
 the spring side one fair summer's day with the 
 pitcher of water by her side. Within the clear, 
 cool pool she saw her image reflected. Idly 
 dreaming sat the Alpine maiden, dreaming the 
 dreams of youth-time. Her reverie had been 
 interrupted by the rustling grapevine, when lo
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 39 
 
 and behold, there appeared before her the very 
 knight of her dreaming. Was ever knight more 
 beautiful ? Before her stood a prince with fea- 
 tures as faultless as though chiseled in marble, 
 coal-black hair of a silky softness clustered about 
 a noble brow, sinewy and full of grace was each 
 and every contour, eyes dark as night, with lips 
 parted in a greeting smile. Fearlessly did this 
 woodland knight approach her. Within his 
 hands he held a miniature eanoe, skillfully fash- 
 ioned from birch bark, its interior filled with 
 fragrant wood violets, still wet with the dew. 
 With a matchless smile and grace the gift was 
 proffered. What could she do but extend her 
 arms and receive it? Exquisite, ay, ravishing 
 in its delight and romance had been that meet- 
 ing by the vine-hidden spring side. 
 
 Thus commenced a friendship that was not yet 
 a friendship, it was but the meeting of two un- 
 sullied hearts that as naturally sought each other 
 as the brook does the river. She from out the 
 Alpine shadows, like the edelweiss transplanted 
 within the wilderness of the New World, he the 
 child of strength and nature, that bowed in sin- 
 cere homage before the refinement and grace of 
 the Old. 
 
 Love is indeed a wondrous plant; it will take 
 root amid peril and the wilderness; it levels
 
 40 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 the narrow prejudices of men and scales the 
 heights of opposition, seeking that freedom and 
 right to love accorded it by nature. Prince 
 Alliquippa loved Elizabeth Von Merlau with a 
 tenderness and adoration such as only a prince 
 of nature can bestow. She had come into his 
 life as the rainbow that followed the somber 
 shades of storm. He was to her a hero, a prince 
 and lover, about his New World strength there 
 fain would entwine the loving tendrils of the Old 
 World's grace. 
 
 Pierre Morin had never taught Alliquippa the 
 forms and customs demanded by civilization in 
 the taking and giving of marriage. To the pious 
 priest such knowledge appeared not only super- 
 fluous but almost profane, so that Alliquippa had 
 naught to guide him save the custom of his 
 fathers as regarded the taking unto himself a 
 bride, a custom which for him then consisted of 
 no greater formality than the rearing of the wig- 
 wam and making known his wishes unto the 
 mother of his intended. 
 
 His lodge had been completed. His white 
 rose bloomed serenely in the valley at his feet, 
 and one fair sunshiny morning Alliquippa passed 
 down the mountain pathway, bent upon calling 
 at the Von Merlau cottage and making known his 
 fond desire.
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 41 
 
 By his side hung the crucifix, a parting gift of 
 the pious priest. "Within his bosom there was 
 boundless hope, for had not Elizabeth told him 
 time and again that she loved him, and could 
 any one dare oppose the wishes of a Senecan 
 prince, one within whose veins there flowed the 
 blood of many kings! 
 
 His appearance created great curiosity as he 
 passed smilingly through the settlement; each 
 curious stare was returned with a friendly smile, 
 for he regarded the pioneers with naught save 
 the tenderest kindness; for were they not the 
 people of his white rose? Many a day had he 
 watched Dame Von Merlau from out the forest 
 within her garden, and longed to approach her, 
 for did he not love even the cottage wherein 
 dwelt that flower with which his virgin heart was 
 thoroughly enamored, but the dame's forbid- 
 ding aspect and the earnest solicitations of Eliza- 
 beth had heretofore prevented him ; but now he 
 would go and see her, and claim his bride. 
 Elizabeth loved him and he loved her, hence she 
 was his by every right. On he went with joyful 
 footsteps ; never had the birds sang sweeter or 
 his heart been as light. 
 
 Dame Von Merlau was seated within her arm- 
 chair beneath the walnut tree whose branches 
 shaded the little dwelling, reading the "Book of
 
 42 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 Martyrs, " this fair summer's morning when foot- 
 falls upon the garden pathway caused her to lift 
 her eyes and rise from her seat in sheer astonish- 
 ment. Alliquippa stood before her, the fatal 
 crucifix in his hand with the hope that its help- 
 ful influence might now befriend him. With 
 uncovered head he bowed before her. In unut- 
 terable horror and indignation the one-time mis- 
 tress of the isle of Uffuan was informed that a 
 prince had called to claim his bride. Amid the 
 tulips and the hollyhocks Alliquippa confessed 
 his love fearlessly and frankly. Yes, he had 
 come to claim his white rose, the beautiful Eliza- 
 beth. She returned his love and henceforth 
 must belong to him. The lodge had been com- 
 pleted. It overlooked the valley of the Juniata. 
 About its birch portals there clambered the 
 woodbine, while the mountain blooms exhaled 
 their perfume around it. All was ready and 
 waiting for the bride. 
 
 Yonder priest had taught him many things, 
 but above all the blessings his wisdom had 
 bestoTved and his friendship afforded was the 
 meeting with Elizabeth, who he might perhaps 
 have never seen had the good priest not guided 
 his footsteps from that far-away river unto yon- 
 der crest. Kneeling before her, within that 
 garden of old-fashioned flowers, a prince of the;
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 43 
 
 forest laid bare his heart in all simplicity and 
 tenderest sincerity. 
 
 As Dame Von Merlau listened she felt faint 
 from sheer dismay and indignation. With in- 
 sulted and outraged feelings she stood before 
 him, while Alliquippa waited with a confident 
 smile for that answer which, of course, would 
 bring him Elizabeth and untold happiness. 
 Who could refuse him, a prince who thus came 
 a-wooing, an honor for which all the Seneca 
 maids lived and waited with eager and beating 
 hearts. 
 
 With her right arm and forefinger rigidly ex- 
 tended, Dame Von Merlau pointed to the garden 
 gate, and with withering contempt and scorn 
 fairly shrieked the one word "Go. Betake 
 thyself unto thy lair, thou wolf in sheep's cloth- 
 ing, an Indian and a Catholic. Serpent," she 
 hissed, as Alliquippa groped his way through 
 the garden pathway. "Never let me see your 
 miserable self again ; rather than my daughter 
 should love and marry an Indian whose iniquity 
 is increased a hundredfold in that he is also a 
 Catholic, I shall see her dead at my feet. An 
 Indian and a Catholic, most trite and] appropri- 
 ate combination, birds of a feather, surely." 
 
 She had turned white with anger, and stood 
 motionless and silent as she watched Alliquippa's 
 retreating figure.
 
 44 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 Those had been the first cruel words that Alli- 
 quippa had ever heard. Civilization had admin- 
 istered its first stab. Shocked and -wounded he 
 had made his way into the forest, dazed and be- 
 wildered. It seemed impossible, and yet he had 
 heard distinctly each and every word. Dame 
 Von Merlau had hurled a poisonous spear into 
 one of the tenderest and most noble hearts, one 
 within which heretofore there had been naught 
 save love and friendliness for all mankind. 
 
 After Alliquippa had passed into the forest she 
 entered the cottage and called Elizabeth in such 
 stern tones as that culprit had never heard 
 before. 
 
 During the clandestine meetings of Alliquippa 
 and Elizabeth, that unworldly maid had always 
 counseled delay in making known their love for 
 each other, a tardiness that Alliquippa ill could 
 brook. Elizabeth was his because she loved him, 
 the lodge was ready, then why delay? Eliza- 
 beth had meanwhile watched for favorable op- 
 portunities wherein to disclose to the stern dame 
 the tender state of affairs between herself and the 
 Indian prince, but no avenue seemed to have 
 offered its friendly pathway. She had at last 
 acceded to her lover's importunities to call and 
 make the dame acquainted with the matter, one 
 that she had proved a thousand times too timid
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 45 
 
 to broach. Elizabeth had watched nervously 
 and fearfully her lover's approach that day. 
 She had witnessed that terrible meeting in the 
 garden from the window of her little room, and 
 as the voice of Dame Von Merlau resounded 
 through the cottage after that remarkable meet- 
 ing, she tremblingly appeared before her stern 
 and angry mother. She had timidly glanced 
 into that unrelenting face, but ere the wither- 
 ing rebuke could fall from the parental lips 
 Elizabeth had dissolved into a flood of tears. 
 
 To Dame Von Merlau those tears told their 
 own miserable and humiliating story. Without 
 a word she left her daughter weeping, and 
 sought the garden for air and comfort. "Great 
 and merciful God," she exclaimed, "an Indian 
 and a Catholic. I should surely have thought 
 one would have been plenty." 
 
 With her hands clasped behind her she paced 
 the garden pathway from end to end with down- 
 cast head, until the stars appeared. Within her 
 room Elizabeth clasped to her bosom a little 
 birch-bark canoe filled with withered wood vio- 
 lets. Strings of glistening beads, dainty little 
 moccasins, arrows and bows were watered with 
 tender tears. 
 
 Within his lodsre Alliquippa, with an inde- 
 scribable pain and feeling of suffocation as the
 
 46 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 full realization of Dame Von Merlau's scathing 
 words forced themselves upon him, pressed to 
 his lips a bunch of withered tulips held together 
 by a pale blue ribbon tied in a true lover's knot. 
 Within his bosom was awakened a deep feeling 
 of resentment, a realization of an injustice that 
 caused his unworldly heart to bleed and smart. 
 "Was it then a crime to be an Indian, even though 
 a prince? Was it then likewise a crime to be a 
 Catholic? As he asked himself these questions 
 his thoughts became confused, and his heart 
 weary, while in imagination he yet heard those 
 scathing sentences of Dame Von Merlau ringing 
 in his ears, lacerating his sensitive feelings as 
 does the lash falling upon tender flesh.
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 47 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE lingering lights and shadows of the fair 
 summer twilight of that day when, Alliquippa 
 called upon Dame Von Merlau were slowly and 
 peacefully encompassing the far-stretching hills. 
 The distant summits seemed bathed in a misty 
 amethyst, and then again enveloped in a shim- 
 mer of pearl or melting azure, whose ever-chang- 
 ing hues were slowly fading into a misty gray, 
 one shade melting into another, a faint dreamy 
 symphony in twilight color. 
 
 Pierre Morin, within his evergreen cathedral, 
 was chanting the vespers, while the twilight was 
 softly glinting the western peaks. One huge 
 golden bar of the gently lessening sunlight 
 streamed through an opening of the soft mur- 
 muring pines and illumined the interior of that 
 wondrous edifice with a pale, translucent light. 
 At the end of that inclosure stood the priest, 
 holding aloft the symbol of his creed. Before 
 him in an hundred rows knelt a congregation of 
 magnificent splendor. The gorgeous head- 
 dresses of many-colored feathers, the soft brown
 
 48 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 flesh of the children of the forest, with their 
 brilliant ornaments of beads, all clustered 
 together before the priest, who spoke to them, 
 while holding aloft that cross in a language in- 
 telligible to them, while the flickering sunlight 
 shed its soft rays upon them, subduing the 
 garish tints of their savage garb, turning all into 
 a soft and beautiful whole of harmonious color 
 and blending, and formed indeed a wondrous 
 picture. 
 
 The prayer had been said, and Pierre Morin 
 had beseeched a blessing. Silently and softly, 
 with reverent tread, the children of the Alleghe- 
 nies passed into the forest, while the priest, with 
 his hands folded before him, stood with eyes 
 raised toward heaven in fervent prayer until the 
 last gentle rustle of his departing flock had fallen 
 upon his ear, and naught disturbed the silence 
 save the gentle whisper of the sighing pines in 
 the subdued and tender twilight. 
 
 As the priest removed his gaze from heaven, 
 he beheld at his feet, kneeling in humble contri- 
 tion, a bowed and silent figure. With his heart 
 filled with tender fears, he recognized in the 
 figure before him his one-time joyous and care- 
 free Alliquippa. In pity he gazed upon the hum- 
 ble and contrite prince, bowed and humbled into 
 the dust.
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 49 
 
 Alliquippa had been afforded his second lesson 
 in worldly wisdom and civilization. He had now 
 been thus twice favored. The first had been the 
 story of the cross which had made his question- 
 ing heart so peacefully happy, the second had 
 been the story of love for Elizabeth Von Merlau, 
 whose mystic grace had far surpassed that earlier 
 lesson, but in whose learning his heart had been 
 bruised and broken. 
 
 Ay, Alliquippa, although unschooled and wild 
 in a measure, had been enchanted by that old- 
 time strain, a strain which is ever new, and 
 whose mystic strings have discoursed their music 
 since time began, a melody whose exquisite 
 numbers sweep through the soul of all creation, 
 whose enchanting lyric makes or mars; that 
 song in whose dreamy remembrance old age finds 
 delight and unto which youth ever loves to lis- 
 ten; the song of love, that song whose exist- 
 ence is manifested unto each and every living 
 creature in accordance with its receptive capa- 
 bility. There are those who catch but occa- 
 sional bars of the sublime symphony. To some 
 its music comes as a martial measure, while to 
 others its strain is subdued and sad; few indeed 
 hear its perfect solo, rising and soaring like the 
 lark who leaves his lonely nest on upland moor 
 and wings his way toward the stars in a song
 
 50 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 rich in multiplicity of exquisite grace and softly 
 diminishing splendor. 
 
 The priest approached the kneeling prince and 
 gently laid his hand upon his shoulder, and asked 
 why was his once joyous and care-free child thus 
 sad and humbled. 
 
 Unto his old and pious friend Alliquippa 
 poured forth his tale of sorrow, his love for 
 yonder white rose, the scathing rebuke which 
 had attended its declaration, a rebuke whose 
 fiery words yet burned within his weary and 
 wounded heart. He had come to his old friend 
 and teacher for advice and counsel. Leave the 
 valley and Elizabeth, he could not, because he 
 would rather be dead than away from her who 
 he knew loved him and for whom his heart ever 
 hungered. Was it a crime to be an Indian? 
 "Was it then an odious thing to have sprung from 
 that race, they who had loved the shimmering 
 woods and rivers of this fair land, long ere the 
 conquering white man had claimed the regions 
 as his own and was slowly driving the first lovers 
 of these far-stretching hills and still, flowing 
 rivers into exile and oblivion? Why had the 
 good priest ever taught him this story of reli- 
 gion, a story whose symbol was the cross, but one 
 it seemed that she whose favor meant so much to 
 him, scorned and despised ? As he ceased pour-
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 51 
 
 ing out his tale of woe and sorrow, he laid at 
 the feet of the priest the little crucifix whose vir- 
 tue had so sorely failed him in the hour of his 
 great need. 
 
 Pierre Morin raised Alliquippa from his knees, 
 and with his arm around him led him to a ledge 
 overlooking the distant Juniata Valley. Beneath 
 a giant pine, his favorite spot, they seated them- 
 selves side by side, while the priest told the 
 Indian prince how inseparable love was from 
 pain ; how like a breath it swept through the 
 soul, either to purify or to destroy. He told 
 him how love was the foundation of all knowledge 
 and obedience, how without it religion degener- 
 ated into mere commonplace talk about Moses, 
 doctrines and theories. 
 
 Love ! What a wonderful riddle and exquisite 
 mystery, an hieroglyphic more uncipherable 
 than any which had ever been engraved upon the 
 dusty pages of the past, a riddle as unsolvable 
 and eluding as the Philosopher's Stone, arid one 
 for whose solution sages had sought in vain 
 though they had searched among the very stars, 
 and the only answer they had ever received had 
 been the beating of their own questioning and 
 weary hearts. Love! what a complex subject, 
 and how wondroualy rare in its true form the 
 love of a mother its highest conception, one that
 
 0* ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 'would sacrifice itself for the object it adored. 
 Fain would we read the secret of that love which 
 soared above this sordid and everyday life of 
 ours, remote from modern conventionality and 
 dwelt away from a sorrowing and sinful world 
 and lived among the stars. Fain would we de- 
 cipher that instinct which drew us toward some 
 and repelled us from others, although no offense 
 or attraction be offered. That mysterious pref- 
 erence, expanded and bloomed into an affection 
 so beautiful, so subtile and refined that one's 
 being was diffused with its gracious presence 
 quite unaware; an affection which could no more 
 be gainsaid than the restless and heaving sea 
 which beat its foamy wings upon the shore in 
 moans of grandeur and despair. 
 
 Love had built cities, invented arts, science; 
 it incited to virtue and humanity, it kept peace 
 on earth, quietness by sea, mirth in the winds 
 and elements, expelled all fear and uncouthnees, 
 for love was the beginning of all our actions. 
 
 No creature, no stick, no stone was without 
 some feeling of love; it was more eminent, how- 
 ever, in plants and herbs, and especially observ- 
 able in the vegetable world. There, for in- 
 stance, was the affinity < f the vine and the elm, 
 the sympathy between the vine and the cabbage, 
 that of the olive and the vine, while between the
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 53 
 
 vine and the bay tree a great antipathy existed. 
 Why did the vine not love the bay tree nor the 
 odor from it even, and would kill him if it grew 
 near? The burr and the lintel could not endure 
 one another, while the olive and the myrtle 
 embraced in roots and branches. The records 
 of the seers and astrologers gave ample proof of 
 the love and hatred of the planets, which per- 
 formed their starry revolutions for the very love 
 of perfection. 
 
 Natural love or hatred was evidently that sym- 
 pathy or antipathy which was to be seen in ani- 
 mate and inanimate creatures, in the four ele- 
 ments, metal and stones as a stone to his 
 center, fire upwards, and rivers to the sea. The 
 sun, moon, earth and stars went round for the 
 love of perfection and unison. How came a 
 lodestone to draw iron to it; jet, chaff, and the 
 ground to covet showers? 
 
 Within the Georgics of Florentius, that 
 learned seer ages ago had most wisely discoursed 
 upon this old and time-worn topic, love. He 
 had maintained that this sentiment was incident 
 to each and every living creature and creation, 
 human, beastly aa well as vegetable, and gave as 
 an instance the love of a stately palm upon the 
 tropic plains of the distant East that loved most 
 fervently, and which would not be comforted
 
 54 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 until such time as its love applied itself unto it. 
 It was said that one might see the two trees bend, 
 and of their accord stretch out their boughs to 
 embrace and greet each other and give manifest 
 signs of mutual endearment. Amminus Marcel- 
 linus corroborated the existence of this love, and 
 also chronicled this curious tale of the stately 
 palm. 
 
 In further corroboration of this legend in the 
 translation of Pierius' hieroglyphics was to be 
 found the story of two palm trees in Italy, the 
 male growing at Brundusium, while the female 
 waved its delicate foliage within the tropical 
 breeze at far-away Otranto. While they were 
 unable to see each other, it was claimed these 
 trees would be faint and drooping until their 
 growth enabled them to behold one another after 
 which they flourished, although many stadiums 
 apart. 
 
 All nature in its spring-time and youth was 
 imbued with this endearing sentiment, which 
 was commonly called love. From its meshes 
 then let none hope to escape, because its silken 
 threads girdled the universe and its tuneful 
 melodies were sung within the breast of each 
 and every living creature. 
 
 One, however, must not permit this love to 
 dominate one's nature. "Lovest thou not the
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 55 
 
 splendor of God's handiwork spread out before 
 thee?" cried the priest. "Hast thou no eyes 
 nor ears for these countless beauties because 
 thine idol of clay has thus rigidly been denied 
 thee? 
 
 "In my boyhood days, those many years ago, 
 within my native land beyond the sea, I, too, 
 loved and lost, and while the object of my love, 
 whom my fond fancy had painted as half human, 
 half angel, was lost to me, and I awoke to the 
 sad realization that the object of my adoration 
 was but human, and weakest of all humanity, a 
 woman, yet in losing the object of my love, I am 
 still grateful for the experience that love afforded 
 me while traversing that rose-hued path which 
 fancy led me toward the haven of my heart's 
 desire, for that experience has enriched my life, 
 truly softening and subduing its cadences. Those 
 lofty ideals and dreams of future greatness, all 
 to be achieved when she whom I worshiped was 
 my bride, have left their refining and helpful 
 influences with me, blooms that will never fade ; 
 and the tears that were shed in my then youth- 
 ful sorrow, like the warm summer rain, have 
 brought to blossom many a flower within my 
 lifework, whose bud, like that of the unblushed 
 rose, would have died and withered had not those 
 tears awakened them, into life and caused them 
 to mature into beauteous blooms.
 
 56 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 "In my great disappointment I sought the 
 dim and silent cloister; humanity and human 
 brotherhood for me had lost their charm. My 
 friends were and remain to-day the trees, the wild 
 birds and nature, and I have come to look upon 
 these trees, my companions and comforters, these 
 many years with something akin to human affec- 
 tion. Did not yonder stately pine sob and moan 
 for me when I was homesick and discouraged, 
 and when life cast a roseate hue athwart my 
 lonely path in moments of joy and thankfulness 
 for the gift of life so sweet and so enchanting? 
 did not yonder oak ring with a yaliant laughter, 
 so pleased and happy that some joy was mine? 
 
 "These beautiful trees, they are indeed the 
 handiwork and architecture of God of which 
 mine eye never tires ; each and every treetop is 
 a feather in the earth's cap, a plume in her 
 bonnet, a comfort and refreshing ornament to 
 her." 
 
 How mystical and sad were the voices of the 
 trees when one lived alone among them and thus 
 became intimately acquainted as it were. Each 
 and every species, it seemed, sang or whispered in 
 perfect keeping with some human counterpart, 
 and they appeared to be possessed of all the sen- 
 timents and emotions incident to humanity. 
 Thus, the pine, with its melancholy wail sobbed
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 57 
 
 and moaned, as if laden with the sins of the 
 world, and as if it mourned for the evil doings of 
 mankind. Now the oak leaves were broader and 
 had a valiant song to sing, while the beech was 
 sharp and sudden in its speech. 
 
 "So thou seest, my son, life for me still posses- 
 ses grace and beauty, notwithstanding that fickle 
 maid beyond the sea. Here do I dwell serene 
 and peaceful, far from my home and friends. 
 Here among these hills have I found peace and 
 contentment in ministering to those who are in 
 pain and sorrow, and in spreading the glorious 
 promises of the gospel. Each day have I feasted 
 mine eyes upon the glories of nature about me. 
 In its contemplation my spirit finds endless de- 
 light. When my time comes to leave this mun- 
 dane sphere, I shall be buried 'neath yonder 
 stately pine. No stone shall mark the spot where 
 I shall dreamlessly slumber far from home and 
 friends. Yon lodge shall disappear and the 
 pines alone shall sing for me their never-ending 
 song of sadness." 
 
 As Pierre Morin ceased speaking he again 
 offered to Alliquippa the discarded cross, and 
 told him of that old-time king within the cathe- 
 dral of Eheims, ere departing upon the Crusade, 
 how that monarch lay prostrate on the marble 
 pavement before the shrine of St. Denis, and
 
 58 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 then rising in tears, took down from over the relics 
 that banner whereon was blazoned the cross 
 wrought in gold, a banner which he carried with 
 him in his wars against the enemies of Christ. 
 He told him how the sign of a completed pil- 
 grimage had been a branch of the palm, plucked 
 after the pilgrim had bathed in the Jordan. As 
 he extended the crucifix he said, "Take with 
 thee, Alliquippa, upon thy journey of life, like 
 that king of old, the cross. Unto it lift thine 
 eyes for succor and inspiration. Let its inspir- 
 ing presence ever lead you, and when thy pil- 
 grimage has ceased within this vale of tears, the 
 palm of peace will surely be thine." 
 
 Alliquippa gazed within the valley through a 
 mist of tears, while the gilded track of the de- 
 scending sun was all divinely fair and calm. On 
 the gentle waving treetops far away and on the 
 wooded heights near at hand, across which the 
 twilight shades were slowly creeping, there was 
 an equal hush. The changing hues of the out- 
 spreading valley were slowly assuming their filmy 
 veil of twilight gray, while the tranquil summer 
 sunset still glinted the western peaks in soft 
 golden splendor. Everywhere within the view 
 'twas placid and peaceful and hopefully reassur- 
 ing to Alliquippa's soothed heart, as he bowed 
 his head and silently again accepted Pierre
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 59 
 
 Morin'sgift, the cross, the key to the solution of 
 an equally painful and sorrowful problem with 
 which in his youth the pious man it seemed had 
 struggled. 
 
 Silently Alliquippa departed with that cross 
 and his sorrow into the forest, and made his way 
 to his own little lodge, overlooking the vale of 
 the Juniata and the home of Elizabeth Yon 
 Merlau.
 
 60 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 As time passed on the invasion of the New 
 "World by the Old continued. The human tide 
 swept across the mountains beyond the towering 
 outposts of barbarism, into the vale of the Cone- 
 inaugh, and that vast and silent land toward the 
 Ohio. Into the unknown wilderness plunged 
 those intrepid souls, who amid sorrow, hardship 
 and toil laid the foundation of freedom's vast 
 empire. 
 
 The Indians, who at first had been friendly and 
 kindly disposed toward the settlers, were being 
 freely used as tools by the contending factions 
 of civilization who were fiercely contesting the 
 domination of this vast territory. A bitter and 
 merciless warfare between France and England 
 was raging. A price for human scalps of the 
 opponent factions was offered by the rival 
 governors. The formerly peaceful and friendly 
 Indians were thus incited to rapine and murder 
 for the acquisition of means wherewith to provide 
 themselves with arms and firewater, and the
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 61 
 
 kindred civilizing agencies of the white man. 
 Many a valiant and gentle life was therefore 
 sacrificed. 
 
 In those bloody and soul-stirring days Pierre 
 Morin zealously continued his missionary labors 
 within his sylvan cathedral, upon the crest of 
 the Alleghenies, although many a once devout 
 sheep had wandered from his peaceful fold, lured 
 away from him and the cross by the temptation 
 of that merciless blood money. Within the 
 vallej', life passed peacefully and serenely, 
 although the quiet tenor of the little settlement 
 was occasionally stirred and replaced by fear and 
 alarm, as tidings of Indian depredations beyond 
 the mountains reached them. Within the twi- 
 light shadows lurked murderous specters, the 
 merciless tomahawk loomed before them, and 
 was silently approaching with all the stealth of 
 the death-dealing fangs of a venomous reptile. 
 
 Elizabeth Von Merlau had dutifully bowed to 
 her mother's unyielding will, and Dame Von 
 Merlau walked sternly and unbending among the 
 flowers within her garden. Within the inner- 
 most recess of her heart she blamed the Catholic 
 Church for all her trouble. Had it not sought 
 this wilderness in its undying greed and quest 
 for gold and domination, and taught the very 
 savages its grasping and greedy ritual, for the
 
 62 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 sake of such trophies as might be laid at its feet 
 in ignorant homage by these savage bands; 
 thereby bringing these painted and howling 
 demons out of their element, and subjecting the 
 weary fugitives from that church's deadly and 
 murderous tentacles to all manner of sorrow and 
 indignities, such, for instance, as had been her 
 lot to bear. 
 
 Within his lodge overlooking the vale of the 
 Juniata dwelt Alliquippa in proud seclusion. A 
 monarch had been sorely wounded, a prince of 
 man and nature had been stabbed into the very 
 depths of his once pure and unworldly heart by 
 the bitterness of a civilized tongue, a bitterness 
 that sorely rankled within his bosom, one that 
 had changed that loving and sensitive soul into 
 one of proud hauteur and rigid sternness. From 
 a happy and laughing child of the forest, Alli- 
 quippa had been transformed into a gloomy and 
 silent man. 
 
 Thus matters stood one sultry day in August, 
 when the sun shone with an almost tropic fervor, 
 the fierce rays causing the long green leaves of 
 the Indian maize to curl and droop. The reap- 
 ers from the little settlement were harvesting the 
 bearded grain. Suddenly one of their number 
 paused in great alarm, the sheaf of wheat which 
 he had been binding fell to the ground, his teeth
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 63 
 
 chattered \vith very fear, for just on the edge of 
 the clearing he beheld four painted savages 
 stealthily stealing toward the settlement, with 
 their tomahawks in their hands; like glittering 
 serpents silently stealing upon their prey. 
 
 Consternation and alarm filled those hardy 
 bosoms. The entire reaping party ran swiftly 
 for the settlement. But the savages had been 
 more fleet, for just as they approached the Von 
 Merlau homestead they were horrified by one 
 piercing heart-rending shriek, and as they rushed 
 through the grain field toward the cottage their 
 hearts ceased beating as they beheld the dainty 
 form of Elizabeth borne away by the Indians, 
 who dashed across the clearing with their beau- 
 tiful trophy held on high and disappeared into 
 the depths of the forest. 
 
 For a time consternation reigned supreme! 
 there was no one to give chase, for each one of 
 these reapers had a home to guard, and thither 
 they instinctively flew to protect their loved 
 ones. The Von Merlau servant, John, was old 
 and no match for these scouting Indians. 
 
 Words are inadequate to describe Dame Von 
 Merlau 's grief. She had frantically rushed into 
 the forest in pursuit of the fleeing Indians and 
 her loved ones, shrieking in very despair. The 
 underbrush, into whose incumbering meshes she
 
 64 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 had heedlessly plunged, lacerated her at every 
 movement,sornetimes falling over rocks and briers, 
 through thickets and sharp, piercing brambles 
 she dashed, wild and frantic, crying unto God 
 for help and pity. 
 
 Alliquippa, beneath the birch trees of his 
 lodge, heard that cry in the wilderness. He 
 had hastily made his way in its direction until 
 he had come upon the stricken mother leaning 
 against a gnarled tree trunk exhausted, faint and 
 bleeding, with her silvery locks hanging di- 
 shevelled about her. Blinded, Dame Von Merlau 
 saw not, dimly she heard a voice asking the 
 cause of her distress. In despair she cried out 
 the miserable story, and beseeched help iu 
 Heaven's sweet name. Whom she was asking for 
 help, she knew not. She only knew it was a 
 human voice, and she cried unto it, and Heaven 
 for help. 
 
 Alliquippa knew in an instant what to do. 
 There was but a single trail across the moun- 
 tains, and that was that of the Kittanning. He 
 knew that these prowling marauders had come 
 from yonder side of the mountain, and neces- 
 sarily would have to pass through the Kittanning 
 trail, a path that led through devious ways 
 known only to the Indians. Like a deer he 
 leaped into the forest. Swift as the wind he
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 65 
 
 flew over rocks and bowlders, and plunged into 
 that wilderness in pursuit of the captors of his 
 beauteous white rose. 
 
 Dame Von Merlau had been gently led home 
 by sympathetic neighbors. Every effort was 
 made to soothe her. "Within her armchair she 
 sat, rigid and silent, her eyes raised to heaven 
 in speechless and unutterable grief and despair. 
 Within her heart she felt certain that this had 
 been the work of Alliquippa, that savage who 
 had been partly tamed by that cursed priest of 
 that blasting church. Her opinion was shared 
 by all the people of the settlement, whose cor- 
 rectness needed no further proof than that which 
 tvas afforded by the messenger who had been 
 despatched to Alliquippa's lodge and upon whose 
 return it was learned that the lodge was deserted 
 and Alliquippa was gone. 
 
 Dame Von Merlau had not the faintest recol- 
 lection of beseeching any one's help in the forest 
 while frantically groping and praying for succor. 
 She had spurned Alliquippa away from them, 
 and this was his revenge. Help from Alliquippa 
 was not even faintly imagined, but at his door 
 was laid the cause of all her sorrow and heart- 
 breaking grief. Within her armchair she sat in 
 stony silence as the hours passed slowly by. 
 What to do no one knew. In all that little band
 
 66 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 there was no one to leave his loved >^ alone 
 and unprotected, -with the knowledge that sav- 
 ages were stealthily prowling within the forest. 
 The servant John had been frantic. In vain 
 did he endeavor to organize a pursuing party. 
 He had cried in Heaven's name let some one 
 follow him into the wilderness seeking their 
 loved one. 
 
 At last a little half-hearted band made its way 
 into the forest. They were startled at the crackle 
 of every twig, fearful and sore afraid, beset with 
 many fears for their loved ones within the 
 valley. The twilight was already shedding its 
 somber shades about them, night within these 
 mountains was a fearful thing in these dark 
 recesses whence Elizabeth had been borne, was 
 known to noiselessly crouch the merciless scalp- 
 ing bands; thoughts of the loved ones left be- 
 hind them and the fear that they also might be 
 carried off during their absence at last overcame 
 them, and they retraced their footsteps toward 
 the settlement, heavy at heart, leaving the faith- 
 ful John in a single, and, as well they knew, 
 hopeless search for Elizabeth, the gentle and 
 flower-like maiden who was given up as lost. 
 
 Hours had passed since that shriek had rent 
 the air within the Von Merlau garden amid the 
 tulips and hollyhocks. Dame Yon Merlau sat
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 67 
 
 rigid and -wild-eyed, her gaze upraised; grief 
 was slowly making her mad. Sympathetic 
 neighbors tried vainly to comfort her, but what 
 could they do or say before such a sorrow? In 
 whispers and with muffled footfalls they moved 
 about in awe of that silent figure with its eyes 
 fixed upon a single spot, eyes within whose dark 
 gray depths was foreshadowed even greater and 
 more bitter woe than that which had been their 
 lot upon that beautiful Sabbath morning on the 
 peaceful isle of that far-away lake. 
 
 The deepening twilight shadows had cast their 
 gloom o'er hill and valley. One by one the stars 
 appeared. The vast forest encompassing them 
 was hushed and tranquilly peaceful, when the 
 little weeping band by the side of Dame Von 
 Merlau was startled by the sound of footsteps 
 upon the garden pathway. They fearfully and 
 breathlessly paused and listened for another sign 
 of life, trembling with unknown horror and fear. 
 The footfalls appeared before the door, a moment 
 halted, when there came a knock. Fear and 
 unknown dread caused that little group to 
 huddle closely together. Again was the knock 
 upon the door repeated. It roused Dame Von 
 Merlau from her stupor. She fearlessly arose 
 and threw open the portal, where .before her 
 stood Alliquippa with Elizabeth in a deathly 
 swoon within his arms.
 
 68 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 Dame Von Merlau's cry of joy waa choked by 
 heart-breaking sobs. Alliquippa, with a native 
 and matchless grace, advanced toward her, and 
 with the tenderest care laid Elizabeth, like a 
 broken lily, within her arms. "Without a word, a 
 sign or token of acknowledgment of the delight 
 and joy his deed occasioned, he passed out of the 
 cottage into the starlight, through the garden 
 pathway into the forest toward his lodge. 
 
 That night as Dame Von JMerlau saw her 
 daughter slowly revive to life and consciousness, 
 when she had seen her fair head safely rest upon 
 the pillow, with a smile upon her beautiful face 
 as she dreamed sweet dreams of her prince and 
 lover, she sat by the open window and watched 
 the stars. All about her was the forest, majestic, 
 huge, silent and awe-inspiring, a silence whose 
 majesty seemed to rebuke the narrow and petty 
 prejudice of man. The katydids sang their 
 drowsy rytbm. From out the wilderness occa- 
 sionally came the twitter of a bird ; these were 
 the only signs of life to break that deep, majestic 
 stillness as she sat there filled with thoughts, 
 such as she had never entertained before.
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 69 
 
 CHAPTER VTI. 
 
 IN the days that followed the* stern bosom of 
 Dame Von Merlau was filled with conflicting 
 emotions. She struggled with the most serious 
 problem of her life. Try as she would, thoughts 
 of Alliquippa and his princely deed constantly 
 intruded themselves upon her. She could think 
 of naught save Alliquippa. Even the birds 
 seemed to sing his praise and the little brooks 
 whisper his name. 
 
 Elizabeth had recovered from the shock of 
 that fearful experience ; an ordeal that had but 
 increased and strengthened her love for the In- 
 dian prince, for the beauteous waters of love had 
 been augmented and reinforced by a tender tide 
 of gratefulness. Heretofore, to her timid and 
 unworldly heart he had been her prince and 
 hero ; what was he now ? From the clutches of 
 those painted and bloodthirsty savages he had 
 rescued her and bore her to home and safety, 
 saved her from a fate that was too horrible to 
 imagine. 
 
 Dame Von Merlau had spurned this savior of
 
 70 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 her all from them in scorn and anger. By one 
 fell stroke Alliquippa had swept away that re- 
 proachful and contemptible stigma of Indian, 
 and had placed her under an undying obligation. 
 He had verily heaped coals of fire upon her head. 
 
 The name of Alliquippa ^was never mentioned 
 by either mother or daughter, even the fact of 
 Elizabeth's capture and rescue was never dwelt 
 upon. By intuition mother and child seemed to 
 perfectly understand each other's thoughts, and 
 one might have imagined that Elizabeth had 
 merely returned from a long visit, and that her 
 return was attended by the tender solicitude 
 toward each other as was exhibited by mother 
 and child, but deep within their hearts were 
 thoughts of one who dwelt alone within his lodge 
 overlooking the vale of the Juniata; not a word, 
 however, was ever spoken of that fearful episode, 
 that escape from an unspeakable fate, and that 
 deed of noble valor. 
 
 Thus the days followed each other. Alli- 
 quippa lived silent and removed within his lodge 
 upon the mountain side. 
 
 Dame Von Merlau, as the days went by, felt 
 more and more the necessity for showing some 
 evidence of her gratefulness to Alliquippa, but 
 she also felt that she must needs be on her guard 
 as might not any advances on her part again,
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 71 
 
 open the way for the continuance of a romance, 
 which now that he had restored Elizabeth to her, 
 when he might easily have escaped with her into 
 the forest, she was secretly hoping the Indian 
 had forgotten. She would send him a basket of 
 tulips with the assurance of her esteem and most 
 distinguished consideration; such condescension 
 and recognition she fondly hoped would surely 
 be amply sufficient for an Indian. 
 
 The day upon which Dame Von Merlau had 
 arrived at this decision saw the servant John 
 laboriously making his way up the mountain 
 side toward the lodge of Alliquippa with a gor- 
 geous basket of flowers upon his arm. Within 
 the center was a huge bunch of ruddy and golden 
 tulips, framed by the white and pale pink sweet 
 peas, the whole flanked by the choicest holly- 
 hocks the garden afforded. A tribute indeed for 
 the one-time mistress of the isle of Uffuan to pay 
 a Catholic and an Indian. 
 
 Alliquippa's face had lighted up with pleasure 
 when his eyes beheld this right royal gift from 
 that beloved garden within the valley. His eyes 
 had danced with pleasure when he learned that 
 yon stern dame wished her esteem conveyed with 
 the basket of flowers. Alliquippa desired to 
 know if Elizabeth had sent the blossoms, and 
 when informed that they were the gift of the
 
 72 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 stern and unbending dame, a shadow crossed his 
 features. A shade of regret and disappoint- 
 ment, as though the sunlight had been obscured 
 by a passing cloud now rested upon his face. In 
 silence he turned away from Dame Von Merlau's 
 gift and messenger, and gazed across the valley 
 at his feet. Kigid stood the Indian prince, as 
 though carved in stone, while the faithful John 
 meekly extended toward him the basket of 
 flowers and gently inquired, would not the prince 
 receive them as a token of esteem from the grate- 
 ful dame within yon valley? But Alliquippa 
 took not the slightest notice of him. He was deep 
 in thought. Silently they stood there beneath 
 the birch tree, the prince proud and sad, the 
 faithful John humbly holding out the gift of his 
 mistress. 
 
 Slowly and with measured dignity the prince 
 had turned and bade John return unto the valley 
 and restore the gift unto the giver, with the 
 message that there was but one flower that Dame 
 Von Merleu could give him, but a single blossom 
 that bloomed within her garden, and for whose 
 grace and sweetness his sad heart hungered, and 
 .that was Elizabeth, that white rose that belonged 
 to him by right of love. 
 
 With a wave of his hand, a gesture of dismis- 
 sal which implied most plainly that the interview
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 73 
 
 was ended, he once more resumed his watch 
 across the valley, while the bearer of Dame Von 
 Merlau's gift slowly descended the mountain 
 side. John had found his mistress within her 
 garden, and within its flowery and scented bosom 
 returned unto her that gift and delivered the 
 prince's message. She received both in stern 
 dignity and silence. That night found Dame 
 Von Merlau seated in the starlight within her 
 garden wrestling with more serious thoughts thjp 
 ever. 
 
 As for love, who ever thought seriously of so 
 fantastic a subject? "What a chimera indeed was 
 this love! What a confused chaos of contradic- 
 tion! Surely the most fickle of all sentiments 
 and emotions, a mere huddle of uncertaintj'. 
 
 She felt that she was in full accord with the 
 saying that "it was with love as with appari- 
 tions; everyone talked of it but few had seen 
 it;" she was quite certain that there were count- 
 less people who would never have been in love had 
 they never heard of it, and she was also thor- 
 oughly convinced that there were few, who when 
 their love was over, were not ashamed for having 
 been, as they imagined, in such a state. 
 
 Thus silently she sat within the fast-gathering 
 twilight shadows, while the scent of the holly- 
 hocks and blushing roses shed their fragrance
 
 74 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 upon the wandering breeze, faint and sweet. 
 The moon rose a crescent, and hung like a silver 
 sickle in the summer sky; the earth was wrapped 
 in a mystio beauty, tender and dreamful; the 
 mountain breezes gently waved the swaying tree- 
 tops, and all was peacefully serene and beautiful. 
 
 As Dame Von Merlau thus sat in the starlight 
 she reasoned and argued with herself. She con- 
 cluded that Alliquippa was but an Indian, yet 
 within the depths of her heart she was obliged 
 to admit that by his noble deed in rescuing and 
 restoring her child unto her when she knew he 
 loved her and might easily escape with her into 
 the forest, he had swept away forever so trifling 
 and trivial a thing as birthright. As far as birth 
 was concerned, she felt that he stood upon an 
 equal footing, nay, she paused and asked herself, 
 was it not possible that he even excelled ? 
 
 He loved her daughter, and Elizabeth loved 
 him. He had won her, if ever knight won lady 
 fair by chivalrous deed. Yes, he had earned 
 Elizabeth. In that service he had rightfully 
 won her daughter and her everlasting obligation; 
 she felt her will rapidly fail her. She would 
 waive the matter of birth ; what was it but an 
 accident? Was not the birth of the pearl accom- 
 plished amid the commonplace? It was the man 
 and not the origin that was to be considered.
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 75 
 
 But stay, was he not a Catholic ? Slowly was 
 recalled the memory of that peaceful Sabbath 
 upon that far-away lake. In imagination she 
 again sat by its waters that Sabbath morning 
 and listened to the matin bell calling the monks 
 to prayer. Before her she saw again a stark and 
 silent figure. Upon its pulseless breast she again 
 read that placard which told its terrible story of 
 assassination and martyrdom. Her daughter 
 marry a Catholic! Never. All the old-time 
 hatred of that church rose with renewed vigor 
 and life within her. She would see Elizabeth 
 cold and still in death, ere consenting to so de- 
 plorable and unholy a sacrifice. As a Catholic 
 he must never have her, and unto the "Book of 
 Martyrs" Dame Von Merlau turned for light and 
 inspiration. 
 
 Several more days of doubt and indecision 
 passed slowly by, but try as she would to con- 
 vince herself that Elizabeth must never wed an 
 Indian and a Catholic, the following afternoon 
 saw Dame Yon Merlau slowly and thoughtfully 
 wending her way up the mountain's side toward 
 the lodge of Alliquippa. She had concluded 
 that she would go and see him, and if he cast 
 from him that cross, which he had grown to 
 revere through the false teachings of yonder dis- 
 ciple of Satan, Elizabeth should be his. She
 
 76 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 had sagely reflected that out of the whole miser- 
 able business he was at least a prince, such as it 
 was. 
 
 Slowly and sternly she passed up that moun- 
 tain pathway, upon an errand of righting a fan- 
 cied wrong. A duty whose performance her 
 conscience had unceasingly prompted since 
 Alliquippa had rescued her child from a fate 
 worse than death. But it was to be the righting 
 of a wrong whose fulfillment must be subject to 
 a condition, one which she had no doubt the 
 prince would gladly consent to, and discard for- 
 ever a religion whose very name to her conjured 
 up naught save visions of hate. 
 
 That meek submission and resignation on the 
 part of Elizabeth had won the day. That wil- 
 lingness to humbly bow to her mother's wishes 
 had touched that stern-hearted dame as nothing 
 else could. Had Elizabeth openly bemoaned her 
 lot, that afternoon would never have seen Dame 
 Von Merlau ascending the mountain on a mission 
 of compromise with the Indian prince. But the 
 sad eyas of her beloved child, those wistful looks 
 and dreamy reveries while not a word was spoken 
 in complaint, that delicate avoidance of a sub- 
 ject painful to both, had at last caused that 
 proud and unbending will to slowly relax its 
 unyielding opposition. It was the victory of 
 meekness.
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 77 
 
 She found Alliquippa standing within the 
 shade of the birch trees, -whose trailing branches 
 overhung his lodge. In silence he stood gazing 
 over that beautiful valley at his feet. At her 
 approach he turned his face toward her, but 
 made not the slightest sign of welcome or recog- 
 nition. Not a muscle moved, his face was as 
 immovable as if carved in stone. Dame Von 
 Merlau, sternness itself, felt somehow that before 
 her stood one whose will could not be so easily 
 subdued and moulded as that of Elizabeth ! 
 
 For a moment they regarded each other in 
 silence. It was a scene of Greek to Greek. The 
 silence was becoming embarrassing and painful, 
 when Dame Von Merlau broke the stillness by 
 stating her errand. She told the silent figure 
 before her how thankful she was for his wonder- 
 ful valor in restoring unto her her only child, a 
 child without whom her life would indeed be 
 lonely. That Catholic Church had robbed her 
 of all save her daughter. She had come to talk 
 matters over. She was sorry if she had ever 
 addressed words to him that had displeased him. 
 She paused, and flattered herself that the ordeal 
 at last was over. This she fancied must surely 
 satisfy him, and she waited for his reply. But 
 not a word fell from those silent lips. Not a 
 change crossed his features, only those dark,
 
 78 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 black eyes spoke volumes as they regarded her 
 in silence. 
 
 He stood before her, his arms folded upon his 
 breast, his head thrown back, every inch a prince. 
 All the majesty of his fathers had come to his 
 Bid. Before her stood a king, a king by birth 
 and nature, noble and majestic. One bj' one 
 Dame Von Merlau felt her arguments slip from 
 her. Miserable business; what in the world 
 could she say? "Why did he not say something 
 so that she might deny it or offer an argument 
 in rebuttal? But not a word came from the silent 
 prince before her. 
 
 In sheer desperation she at last told him that 
 Elizabeth should be his, did he but renounce 
 that religion taught him by yonder priest. Yes, 
 Elizabeth should be his bride in payment of that 
 undying debt of her thrilling rescue. "Cast 
 from you that cross, and Elizabeth shall be 
 thine, "she cried. 'Twixt hope and fear she lis- 
 tened for his answer; a little bird that had been 
 pouring forth a torrent of melody upon the 
 branches above them ceased its song, to catch 
 the reply ifc seemed. There was an interval of 
 deep silence. Even the rustle of the birch trees 
 was hushed. Alliquippa gazed across the valley. 
 At last the silence was broken by but a single 
 word from the Indian prince, a word spoken with
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 79 
 
 an accent and fervor that most plainly implied 
 determination, a purpose and decision fixed from 
 which nothing could swerve. It \vas the word 
 "Never." He was again silent for a moment, 
 while Dame Von Merlau asked herself in amaze- 
 ment "What manner of Indian is this?" 
 
 "Mother Von Merlau," continued the prince, 
 "you ask me to cast from me the cross, that 
 which has given me comfort when such as you 
 despised and spurned me. You ask me to cast 
 away that which alone counseled the return to 
 you of your child. You ask me for the sake of a 
 few fleeting j^ears of earthly happiness to destroy 
 forever that hope of a life beyond the sky where 
 Elizabeth will be mine forever. You ask me to 
 cast from me that glorious promise of the gospel, 
 that story of the cross which to my weary soul, 
 made so by your cruel words, is blessed consola- 
 tion, that story of the cross whose sweet promise 
 falls upon my parched and tired heart and causes 
 it to overflow with joy and hope. You ask me 
 to cast away the hope of heaven for that which 
 eventually will be mine. You ask me to de- 
 nounce that religion taught me by yonder 
 sainted man, that which has opened to me a new 
 life, led me from out the darkness into the light. 
 Elizabeth loves me, and she is mine, mine forever 
 and ever, if not here, within the land of spirits.
 
 80 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 Ay, together we will wander through that land 
 of promise, in that land of never-ending delight. 
 Thine to give is she, within this vale of tears, 
 but mine for all eternity in the land beyond the 
 sky. As he ceased speaking he turned again and 
 gazed within the valley. Dame Von Merlau, 
 pleased, yet sorry, pleased that Elizabeth was 
 after all not to leave her, and sorry somehow she 
 knew not why. 
 
 Side by side they had stood and gazed within 
 the valley for a moment in perfect silence. A 
 scene that was indelibly impressed upon Dame 
 Von Merlau's memory while life lasted. 
 
 Before them in the sunlight stretched a valley 
 miles in length and breadth, hemmed in by tower- 
 ing mountains seemingly piled one upon the 
 other. The blue Juniata River rippled and 
 wound through it, now secreting itself in groves 
 of sycamore, and again flashing into the sun- 
 light, woodland and meadow, level and rolling 
 plains succeeded one another. The surrounding 
 mountain sides were covered with the laurel and 
 the pine; the quail whistled in the meadow, the 
 grouse drummed in the woods, and the wild duck 
 rose in darkening convoys above the river; the 
 deer and theeik wandered at will from the plains 
 to the mountains, wild grapes and plums grew 
 all about them ; here and there within the valley
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 81 
 
 the Indians had planted patches of maize whose 
 emerald leaves shone and glistened in the sun. 
 Overlooking such a scene, Alliquippa had 
 selected for his lodge and his bride, in which 
 beautiful prospect their mutual spirits were to 
 find delight. 
 
 Dame Von Merlau gazed across that valley, 
 then upon the man at her side, he who was as 
 rigid and speechless as though hewn from the 
 bronze. Admiration and wonder filled her stern 
 bosom, and in respectful silence she softly left 
 him and made her way down the mountain side 
 into the valley, with feelings of victory and de- 
 feat subtlely intermingled, because she felt that 
 her mission had been successful in having ex- 
 pressed an obligation, and notwithstanding the 
 opportunity thus afforded Alliquippa, she was 
 yet to retain Elizabeth, yet within the very 
 depths of her heart she felt that Alliquippa had 
 scored a magnificent victory. Somehow she felt 
 that she had been defeated, a defeat which she 
 proposed to accept in silence. 
 
 She buried herself within the pages of the 
 "Book of Martyrs." Tor many days she read 
 and studied Luther as she had never done before. 
 She tried Ler utmost to convince herself that her 
 course had been the rightful one, but deep down 
 within her inmost heart she felt that Alliquippa
 
 82 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 had taught her a lesson. Try as she would that 
 feeling would manifest itself, and it was weeks 
 and months before she was again able to think of 
 the Catholic Church with her old-time vigorous 
 hatred. 
 
 Meantime, within his lodge dwelt Alliquippa, 
 living in dreams of his white rose. All things 
 beautiful reminded him of her. Each and every 
 glorious sunset; the clusters of wild roses and 
 violets; the moonlight's soft and tender mantle 
 which transformed the vale into a misty land of 
 dreamy shadows; the wild bird's song and the 
 sigh of the pine; the river's drowsy murmur and 
 the hum of the bees all spoke of Elizabeth, for 
 whom he so patiently waited and whom he had 
 taught himself to believe he had loved and lost 
 within this vale of tears ; and he built his hopes 
 in the glorious promise of a future life away 
 beyond the stars, away from the petty and puny 
 strife and contentions of insignificant man.
 
 ALLlQUItPA. 83 
 
 CHAPTEE 
 
 THE uprising of the Indians was steadily gain- 
 ing. Not a day passed but news of rapidly 
 increasing depredations and tales of pitiless and 
 soul-harrowing massacres found its way across 
 the mountains. Presque Isle on Lake Erie and 
 other forts on, the outposts of civilization had 
 been taken and laid waste by the French and the 
 Indians. Death and destruction followed in the 
 pathway of the fast-approaching demoniac band 
 which had been roused into fury by the schem- 
 ing intrigues of the contending European fac- 
 tions. Pennsylvania, a land toward which the 
 Indians had always been friendly, was being 
 invaded by a murderous band in quest for human 
 scalps. The roads leading toward the East 
 from beyond the Alleghenies were beset with fly- 
 ing settlers. The once peaceful settlement at the 
 foot of the mountains was in a turmoil of fear 
 and excitement. 
 
 Multitudes of refugees huddled together en- 
 camped in the woods and adjacent fields about 
 Helvetia. In those wretched encampments were
 
 84 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 men, women and children, who had fled from 
 beyond the mountains, where they had been 
 bereft at one stroke of friends, home, the means 
 of support by those stealthy scalping parties. 
 Day and night they were haunted "by visions of 
 the bloody knife and reeking scalp, while from 
 out the western part of the province, before whom 
 the settlers were fleeing, advanced that fiendish 
 horde. Consternation and alarm had taken pos- 
 session of everyone. In despair the pioneers 
 banded themselves together, armed with their 
 rifles, which were by no means unworthy, as in 
 those days a true and trusty firearm was an 
 absolute necessity in every household, and could 
 always be found hanging upon the walls of the 
 pioneer homes throughout the province. 
 
 The little sturdy band was ready and eager to 
 depart on its way to meet, and if possible, van- 
 quish that advancing foe of civilization and life, 
 that horde of painted hell-hounds, as it were, 
 whose withering march toward the East was lay- 
 ing all efforts at civilization to waste. But who 
 was to lead them against that murderous enemy? 
 Who knew the numberless trails and modes of 
 Indian warfare? Who was the intrepid one to 
 general that uncouth army against that savage 
 and treacherous foe? From the settlement of 
 Helvetia came the answering cry, "Alliquippa, "
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 85 
 
 "Within his lodge the Indian prince had spent 
 days of deep and earnest thought. He had 
 heard with sorrow of the frightful depredations 
 committed by the hordes of the cruel and blood- 
 thirsty Pontiac. He had thought over the prob- 
 lem deeply. The Indians were the rightful 
 owners of the territory, but they must not kill 
 and destroy those who had come to make it blos- 
 som. His white rose in yonder valley and her 
 people must be saved. If the settlers were wil- 
 ling to combat with the band of demons, even 
 though he was an Indian he would lead them. 
 An Indian would teach them how to cope with the 
 Indian in battle, and at the head of that brave 
 struggling band, one summer's morning, as it 
 wound its way up the mountain side, leading 
 the way was Alliquippa. Elizabeth Yon Merlau 
 among the tulips and sweet williams within the 
 garden in the valley, with tear dimmed eyes, 
 watched that little band depart, and gazed upon 
 the little fluttering banner she herself worked 
 and sent Alliquippa until it was lost in the depths 
 of the forest, in its march toward the West. 
 
 It was an undertaking to appall the stoutest 
 heart. Before that brave band stretched moun- 
 tain upon mountain a gloomy forest filled with 
 a prowling, murderous band. In that dark wil- 
 derness lay the bones of Braddock and the hun-
 
 86 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 dreds that perished with him. The number of 
 elain on that bloody day more than ten times ex- 
 ceeded this entire pioneer band, \vhile the 
 strength of their assailants had been inferior to 
 that of the swarms who were now known to infest 
 the forest. 
 
 Alliquippa's immediate concern and destina- 
 tion was Fort Ligonier, for well he knew the 
 loss of that post would be most disastrous, not 
 only to themselves but to the entire province. 
 Under his skillful guidance they pushed onward 
 through devious and winding paths, avoiding 
 the principal trails during the daytime, and 
 making all haste during the night. Over the 
 mountains rising in endless grandeur and mag- 
 nificence before them they made their way. 
 Over rocky heights, and through deep valleys. 
 Into the wilderness they bravely plunged. 
 Across swamps, through thickets, under the 
 gloomy boughs of the overarched trees, they 
 fearlessly made their way, inspired by their in- 
 trepid leader who led them to battle in aative 
 and natural daring. 
 
 The little army had halted upon the third day 
 within a grove of oak and chestnut trees. The 
 night was calm and peaceful. The moon flooded 
 the hills and valleys. Not a sound disturbed the 
 stillness save the occasional cry of a night bird 
 and the murmur of the distant river.
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 87 
 
 Alliquippa himself had assumed the watch 
 after the weary day's march, because he knew 
 full well the stealthy tactics employed by that 
 lurking foe. Although they had not caught 
 sight of a sign of life in their march thus far 
 through the forest, he was fully aware that un- 
 seen eyes had followed them and watched their 
 every movement since their departure from 
 Helvetia. The little army slumbered until 
 toward the earliest dawn, when not a hundred 
 feet from Alliquippa, whose form was hid within 
 the friendly shade of a giant oak, from out a 
 thicket the painted visage of a Pontiao warrior 
 appeared, who, after surveying the sleeping 
 army, quietly withdrew. Hastily that little 
 band was aroused and clustered together. The 
 critical moment had come at last. Suddenly 
 there arose around them a burst of those fearful 
 cries which formed the ordinary prelude to an 
 Indian battle. Those cries rose exultantly upon 
 the air that peaceful summer morning, because 
 the Indians were in the fullest confidence of suc- 
 cess. It had been in this very forest some years 
 ago that they had nearly destroyed ten times the 
 number of the foe now before them. They had 
 utterly routed an army, ay, the flower of the 
 British troops had been felled to the dust, and 
 with a rush and demoniac yell the savages fell 
 upon them.
 
 88 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 Alliquippa had instructed his little army in 
 the modes of Indian warfare. It was by his 
 command that each man chose a tree from be- 
 hind whose shelter deadly aim was taken. For 
 two hours that battle raged from behind the 
 trees. The Indians had been for a time non- 
 plussed and at a loss to understand the foe with 
 whom they were coping, an enemy that so thor- 
 oughly understood, nay, practiced their own 
 mode of warfare with such death-dealing suc- 
 cess. Fiercer and fiercer grew the battle. The 
 savages were losing that exultant air which had 
 been theirs when the fight began. One by one 
 their number diminished, while from behind the 
 oak and pines poured a deadly and unceasing 
 volley. It was evident that a more secluded 
 vantage ground must be sought. Their ranks 
 were thinning as that invisible one within the 
 dark shadows poured forth its death-dealing fire. 
 There was a moment's delay among the leaders 
 and a hurried conference was held. Alliquippa 
 understood that shrieking parley of the discon- 
 certed Indian chiefs, and as the movement to 
 retreat within the grove of pines at their rear 
 was made, from a signal and inspiring cry from 
 Alliquippa, each man in his little army rushed 
 forth from behind his tree, and with a stinging 
 fire brought down a horde of the savages. For 
 a moment the enemy bravely rallied and returned
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 89 
 
 the fire. They were now in the open face to face 
 with their foe; no sheltering trees hid their 
 gaudy forma glittering in all the gorgeous color 
 of war-paint, as had been the case at the battle 
 of Braddock; but a moment they wavered, 
 paused, then fled. With fiercer cries than the 
 Indians had ever employed in all their attacks, 
 the settlers fell upon their retreating foes, mow- 
 ing them down as the reaper does the grain, 
 driving those who escaped with their lives flying 
 through the woods, giving them no shelter or 
 time to reload their rifles, but pouring a deathly 
 fire into the flying enemy, shooting them down 
 like wolves, until the discordant cries with which 
 the forest had resounded entirely ceased. Not a 
 single living enemy remained on the spot; about 
 one hundred corpses lay upon the ground, among 
 them several prominent chiefs. Of the settlers 
 nine men had been killed, among them, with the 
 rising sun streaming through the foliage upon 
 his upturned face, whereon there rested a peace- 
 ful smile, lay Alliquippa. The province of peace 
 and religious liberty was saved ; the people of 
 his white rose could now continue their labors 
 unmolested and without fear; the story of the 
 Cross could now continue its civilizing mission. 
 Upon his breast was found a faded bunch of 
 tulips tied with a pale blue ribbon in a true 
 lover's knot.
 
 90 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE soft summer's twilight was slowly en- 
 shrouding hill and valley. The daily toils such 
 as could be performed in close proximity to the 
 settlement, had been executed. Groups of 
 anxious ones were gathered together here and 
 there, asking each other if any news had been 
 received from o'er the mountains whence that 
 gallant band had departed nearly a week ago; 
 when down the mountain side dashed a messen- 
 ger with the news of that battle and its glorious 
 victory. Loud acclamations of joy echoed far 
 and wide. The news flew from household to 
 household, and about the bearer of these glorious 
 tidings was clustered an eager and expectant 
 group, as the names of the killed were disclosed. 
 
 There had been bitter tears for all save Alli- 
 quippa ; there had been expressions of sorrow, 
 but then he had only been an Indian and had 
 lived a lonely life, and his death was quickly 
 passed over in the knowledge of more kindred 
 griefs. 
 
 Dame Von Merlau and her daughter were
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 91 
 
 within their cottage. Within their bosoms 
 there surged anxious hopes, but since Alliquippa 
 had led the undertaking, it was never mentioned. 
 Between mother and daughter existed so perfect 
 a bond of sympathy, so finely attuned was the 
 harp of intuition, that whatever concerned the 
 Indian prince was a subject that was never dis- 
 cussed or even faintly alluded to. Dame Cattrell 
 remembered that the Von Merlaus were as yet 
 in ignorance of that glorious victory, and she 
 breathlessly hastened toward their cottage to 
 bear the joyful tidings as well as the sorrowful 
 news of those who fell. 
 
 Elizabeth was seated by the wide-open fire- 
 place spinning soft, dainty linen. Dame Von 
 Merlau was seated by the window reading the 
 "Book of Martyrs," when Dame Cattrell burst 
 into the room and related the news, fairly 
 shrieked that among the killed from the settle- 
 ment had been Ephraim Bowman, the shoe- 
 maker, and the Indian Alliquippa. With a hasty 
 good-by she rushed out on her mission of 
 spreading the wonderful tidings. 
 
 The spinning-wheel went round and round. 
 With her hand on the distaff, her head resting 
 on her arm, Elizabeth sat pale as death. The 
 thread within the spinning wheel snapped asun- 
 der. A slight tremor shook the fair form of the
 
 92 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 spinner, and as that strand snapped in two, so 
 broke the faithful and unworldly heart of Eliza- 
 beth Von Merlau. Dame Von Merlau sat rigid 
 and silent by the window, her careworn face 
 immovable and severe. Slowly and softly, as 
 forms the dew upon the petal of a flower and 
 falls upon the ground in pearls, so formed and 
 rolled tear after tear down those withered 
 cheeks. Dame Von Merlau, without an effort to 
 wipe away those tear drops, with a face as stern 
 as ever, let fall that briny tribute, a tribute that 
 fell upon the very page of the "Book of 
 Martyrs." Ay, she shed tears upon these 
 sacred pages, ay, bitter and briny tears for a 
 Catholic, while by that spinning wheel sat a 
 bowed and silent figure. 
 
 The dame arose and gently gathered her child 
 within her arms. She laid her pale cheek 
 against her own, and softly stroked that flaxen 
 hair as she spoke soothing words of comfort, 
 until tears lessened that heart-breaking sorrow. 
 
 The night had come while mother and daugh- 
 ter thus sat clasped in each other's arms. Eliza- 
 beth had exhausted her frail self in the bitterest 
 sobs and tears her beautiful and peaceful life had 
 ever been called upon to experience. Dame Von 
 Merlau had gently laid that weary head upon 
 the pillow and sought the starlight within the
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 83 
 
 garden. Among the old-fashioned flowers she 
 walked. There among the hollyhocks she knelt 
 in prayer. There in the summer starlight with 
 the silent forest all about her, the sore and 
 heavy-hearted dame prayed thus : 
 
 "Merciful Father, have I faithfully performed 
 my duty? Was it thy will that my child's heart 
 should thus be broken as was mine in that land 
 beyond the sea? Has it been thy will that we 
 should thus be made to suffer? Two helpless 
 women in a new and strange land far from home 
 and friends? We who have tried so earnestly 
 and diligently to do our duty as we saw it. That 
 hateful and murderous Church robbed me of my 
 beloved one, ay, struck him down in the prime 
 of his manhood, while he was laboring within 
 thy vineyard. That Church robbed me of him 
 who wooed and won me in that far-away land by 
 that castled river, within that land where the 
 grapes drink the moonlight and turn into wine; 
 together we wandered through the pathway of 
 life amid its smiles and tears, but at this very 
 moment I cannot help but feel that for me and 
 mine tears have predominated. Sweetly and 
 peacefully, my once dear companion now is at 
 rest within the shadows of the old gray church 
 upon the peaceful little isle of far-away Uffuan. 
 Tall, white tiger-lilies and snowy roses shed their
 
 94 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 fragrance upon the breeze above his humble 
 resting-place, and to-night as I kneel here I long 
 for the time when I also may sleep beneath such 
 friendly bloom and shelter. Within the -wilder- 
 ness of the New World I fled for peace and free- 
 dom. Here within the wilds I had fondly hoped 
 surcease would be mine from that hateful and 
 murderous Church. Here within the wilderness 
 it has again coiled its poisonous folds about me 
 and my beautiful child. That Indian prince, 
 that man of men, who now sleeps cold in death 
 in yonder forest had been taught that faith 
 which, once it fastens its fangs, can with difficulty 
 be shaken from its stifling embrace. Had he but 
 renounced that creed, my child might have been 
 his, but as I kneel here in the starlight, as long 
 as the sun rises and sets, as long as life inhabits 
 this weary body, so long shall I hate and rebel 
 against the invasion of my home by a serpent 
 whose glistening scales are hid beneath the 
 friendly cloak of religion. If it has been thy 
 will to thus cause me sorrow, and that my child's 
 heart be broken, I, thy servant, bow meekly 
 before it, but condone or countenance a Church 
 that has robbed me of my all, I shall never, nay, 
 even though a hundred noble, brave Alliquippas 
 yield up their lives, and a hundred pure hearts 
 break around me. I shall die in an undimin-
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 95 
 
 ished faith in thee, but if it is thy will, spare 
 my poor child. Let thy chastening rod fall less 
 severely upon her than thou hast let it fall upon 
 the mother. Let me die here in the wilderness, 
 with duty as it is shown me well performed, a 
 duty that shall ever and ever counsel the banish- 
 ment of the Catholic Church and its teaching, 
 since it has robbed me of my all, broken my 
 daughter's heart and embittered my life forever. " 
 Dame Von Merlau knelt in the starlight as 
 hour after hour passed by. Slowly she arose 
 from her knees and paced the garden pathway, 
 and at length passed within the cottage, where 
 she read Luther until the dawn appeared.
 
 96 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 YEARS passed, Dame Von Merlau sank to rest 
 one fair twilight in October. Beside her lay her 
 well-thumbed Luther's Bible, while within her 
 hand was clasped the well-worn copy of the 
 "Book of Martyrs. " The servant John soon fol- 
 lowed his mistress. 
 
 Prosperity spread its golden wings above the 
 province of Penn. Elizabeth Von Merlau lived 
 within the valley ever alone and sad eyed as the 
 years went by. She was ever ready to help the 
 sick and needy and comfort those who were in 
 pain or sorrow. She lived to see the once little 
 settlement grow into a town about her, and even 
 in her old age have aspirations toward a city 
 charter. "Within the valley spread the fertile 
 farms whose fields of fast-ripening grain tossed 
 and rippled in the summer wind in waves of 
 golden plenty. New neighbors came, the old 
 ones died or departed, while within the old 
 homestead dwelt Elizabeth, known as an old 
 maid, peaceful and alone. It was often conjec- 
 tured what might have been the romance in that 
 quiet life. It was plainly seen that within those
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 97 
 
 deep blue eyes there lurked a nameless sorrow. 
 Elizabeth Von Merlau felt that she had passed 
 through the garden of life and paused to listen 
 entranced to the nightingale's song in the moon- 
 light of woman's fair June. But faint and from 
 afar she now listened to that song, dreamy and 
 tender, but ineffably sad, because she knew its 
 rich full notes were never again to thrill her 
 poor, weary heart. Faint and shadowy she lis- 
 tened to that song of life, but felt that for her its 
 cadence must necessarily be sad, since in her 
 youth-time its richness and grace had been 
 denied her. Elizabeth Von Merlau lived in the 
 tender remembrances of the love of her youth. 
 
 The traveler in the mountains of Wales some- 
 times pauses to listen to the music of the harp, 
 which goes throbbing up and down the moun- 
 tain side as though some great heart was 
 breaking in despair, and hears the mystio 
 strings discourse such sweet and exultant melody 
 that he would fain think the joys of angels had 
 fallen to the lot of men; just as the harper has 
 filled the glen with melody, he suddenly strikes 
 the harp strings with his open palm. This is 
 not to silence its music, but only to soften and 
 subdue its cadences. Thus had Elizabeth Von 
 Merlau been smitten. 
 
 Upon the bank of that soft-murmuring river
 
 98 ALLIQUIPPA. 
 
 sleeps Prince Alliquippa, within an unmarked 
 grave where rude hands gently and reverently 
 laid him, with the bunch of faded tulips upon 
 his breast. The wild fern grows above him in 
 all its fairy like grace; lilies of the valley fill the 
 air with fragrance in the summer-time ; the wild 
 birds sing their songs above his resting-place, 
 while the river softly murmurs a never-ending 
 song of peace and praise. 
 
 Elizabeth at last was also laid to rest by the 
 side of the stern dame in the corner of the little 
 churchyard at the foot of the mountains. 
 Naught marks the spot where those two dream- 
 lessly slumber save a dense growth of wild roses 
 whose pink petals grace the greensward each 
 spring-time above their humble resting-place. 
 
 Within the center of that sylvan cathedral 
 upon the mountain's crest, wherein he labored 
 until his death, sleeps Pierre Morin, surrounded 
 by those giant pines that still sigh and whisper 
 as in the days when he, o'er whose grave they 
 now wave and toss their branches, listened to 
 their drowsy song. Peacefully he is at rest, his 
 mission upon earth ended, while his friends and 
 companions during those long, weary years, the 
 sighing and whispering pines, sobbingly sing 
 for him their never-ceasing requiem. 
 
 More than a hundred years have come and
 
 ALLIQUIPPA. 99 
 
 gone. The Indian trail across the Alleghenies 
 has become one of the great arteries of human 
 travel over this vast continent. Upon that high- 
 way passes to and fro a never-ceasing pilgrim- 
 age of life. The territory so fiercely contested 
 has become one of the greatest States within the 
 land of freedom. The Fleur-de-lis of France 
 gave way to the banner of the Eose, which in turn 
 made way for the banner of the Stars. That echo 
 of the Reformation within the Old "World, when 
 men thought more seriously of religion, has died 
 away within the former wilderness of the new. 
 The clustering wild roses within the neglected 
 corner of that little churchyard ; that unmarked 
 grave by the Ligonier, and that mound beneath 
 the pines upon the mountain are all that remain 
 of a struggle in which those pious souls so 
 valiantly and earnestly contended. 
 
 In the cathedral of Rouen, in France, within 
 a niche close by the baptismal font, is a little 
 bronze plate, dark with age, whereon in raised 
 letters appears the following inscription : 
 
 "The prayers of the faithful are entreated for 
 the repose of the soul of Pierre Morin, a native 
 of the City of Rouen, who was lost in an Ameri- 
 can forest, June 23d, 1749, while serving His 
 Gracious Majesty, Louis XV. Dulce et decorum 
 est pro patria mori. ' ' 
 
 THE END.
 
 DR. POFFENBURGHS CHARM; 
 
 OR, 
 
 A TALE OF PENNSYLVANIA.
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THAT promise of peace so gratefully extended 
 unto weary mankind by the province of Penn, in 
 old colonial times, drew unto the fertile and wide- 
 spreading valleys, with which the great State of 
 Pennsylvania is so prolific, a heterogeneous 
 people. It had become known throughout the 
 Old "World that for twelve guineas one could 
 acquire an hundred acres within this peaceful 
 province, and with that acquisition become a 
 veritable king. "Within this land was freedom. 
 Yes, one could say whatever one pleased without 
 attending persecution. There were no burden- 
 ing imposts continually doubled; there was no 
 court to pay, nor need one dread the insolence 
 of a consequential subaltern. 
 
 As a consequence, the province of Penn drew 
 unto itself all manner and nationalities of men. 
 Within their respective valleys dwelt the Dutch, 
 the German, the Swede, the English, the Welsh, 
 and that hardy and adventure-loving race known 
 as Scotch-Irish. Each nationality had a more or
 
 104 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 less distinct life of its own, -with widely differing 
 religious opinions, as well as motives and char- 
 acteristics at variance with those of their neigh- 
 bors. 
 
 While the crystallization of the various nation- 
 alities constituting the first European settlers of 
 Pennsylvania has, in a measure, eradicated their 
 respective traits and characteristics, yet to this 
 day can be found within the more secluded por- 
 tions of the commonwealth, the descendants of 
 the pioneers dwelling within their respective 
 valleys aloof and removed from their neighbors 
 within the adjacent rales. The good old dames 
 within their respective valleys are apt to listen 
 for the sound of the telltale strains of the old 
 church bells come softly stealing o'er the hilla 
 and thereby predict rain. To them this predic- 
 tion of never-failing fulfillment is much esteemed. 
 But the prophecy thus borne upon the whisper- 
 ing wings of the summer breeze, [in faint far-away 
 notes from out the neighboring valley which also 
 signify that in yonder vale another land and 
 people exist, is but of the slightest interest. 
 
 Such a distinction existed within the vale of 
 the Nippanose, and that of the neighboring 
 valleys at the time our story opens, a region that 
 lies about the headwaters of the west branch of 
 the Susquehanna Kiver.
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 105 
 
 Within the valley of the Nippanose the sturdy 
 Pennsylvania Dutchman reigned supreme. 
 Firmly was he intrenched among its peaceful 
 bosom in all his stubborn quaintness. While 
 the neighboring and adjacent valleys were popu- 
 lated by the thrifty Yankees from New England, 
 who had sought this region at the time when this 
 portion of Pennsylvania had been claimed by 
 Connecticut, a claim which had resulted in so 
 stormy and vigorous a controversy that it at one 
 time seriously threatened the disruption of the 
 then original thirteen United States in their very 
 incipiency. 
 
 Notwithstanding this invasion from the land 
 of the Pilgrim, the vale of the Nippanose was 
 securely held by its original settlers and their 
 descendants. As a consequence, life within this 
 land continued upon the even tenor of its way, 
 undisturbed and unsullied by its more worldly 
 neighbors, the tranquillity of its peaceful exist- 
 ence was only disturbed by the occasional bane- 
 ful antics of the witches, whose distracting 
 pranks were only duly held in check and their 
 evil influence in a measure abated by the excel- 
 lent and all helpful charms of Ebenezer Poffen- 
 burgh, the most skilled witch-doctor in all the 
 valley. 
 
 It must be remembered that within this vale
 
 106 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 signs and omens were regarded with all venera- 
 tion and awe. The thrifty housewife would not 
 have considered for a moment the planting of 
 seed within the garden ere consulting the pages 
 of her Dutch almanac and satisfying herself that 
 the sign therein inscribed appropriate to the day 
 was a seasonable and proper one. The cucum- 
 ber seed was always sown upon the longest day 
 and fruit of astonishing length was fondly antici- 
 pated; the seed of the festive onion was invari- 
 ably deposited within the fertile mould of the 
 garden when the sign within the almanac repre- 
 sented a lion, and that spicy and redolent fruit 
 was expected to possess strength and vigor; the 
 homely squash had its propitious sign as well, 
 whose affinity was faithfully ascertained ere con- 
 signing the seed of that uncouth vegetable 
 within the garden's soil, and so on through 
 entire seasons, each and every species of her 
 plants had its particular sign most essential to 
 its welfare, and woe betided the plants if the 
 importance of these signs were ignored or their 
 helpful influence deemed a fallacy. 
 
 The position of the moon was also supposed to 
 exert a powerful influence over these gardens and 
 the labor performed therein. It was the firm 
 conviction of each and every housewife through- 
 out the valley that if the seed were sown while
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 107 
 
 that fickle orb was on the wane, ill-luck surely 
 betided the plants, who, after vainly combating 
 the unhealthful and baneful influence of that 
 lessening orb, were supposed to eventually wither 
 and come to naught, but sown while the moon 
 was in an increasing quarter, they invariably 
 flourished and rewarded the thrifty housewife 
 with bountiful harvests. 
 
 Be this as it may but certain it was, no matter 
 where could gardens be found to equal those of 
 the Dutch farmhouses nestling among the dreamy 
 landscapes of this charming valley; they were 
 the pride of the grim old housewives, and seemed 
 to vie with each other in yielding bountiful 
 harvests. 
 
 Unto this unworldly land in years gone by had 
 emigrated John von Malthaus and his meek and 
 loving house frau Eleanor, with their only son, 
 Jacobus. Within the canton of Appenzel, at the 
 feet of the towering mountains of the Sentis they 
 had been born, bred and wedded. They had 
 left behind them forever that little vale hemmed 
 in by the seven peaks of the Kuhfirsten, rising 
 majestically between it and the Wallenses, the 
 Sargans and the Orisons. Toward the east the 
 valley of their childhood lay open to the rays of 
 the rising sun, displaying in the distance the 
 magnificent prospect of the Tyrolese Alps. The
 
 108 DR. POFFENBURGH r S CHARM. 
 
 greensward of Alpine freshness clothed the 
 valley, while all about them rose the mountains in 
 savage grandeur; at whose feet had nestled their 
 humble home amid the Alpine meadows. They 
 had come from a land that had long been the 
 home of simplicity and peace until the Reforma- 
 tion had arrayed its inhabitants in deadly com- 
 bat against the Duke of Burgundy. 
 
 John von Malthaus and his little family, after 
 a long and tedious journey, had at last reached 
 the land of the Nippanose. Here they had 
 peacefully dwelt and patiently labored, happy in 
 the enjoyment of that freedom so gracious and 
 benign unto that multitude of pilgrims who years 
 ago sought refuge and peace within the valleys 
 of Pennsylvania. "Within the land of the Nip- 
 panose they spent their remaining years in 
 serene contentment. For many years these two 
 faithful souls had been peacefully at rest within 
 the little graveyard by the old gray church, 
 which modest and unpretentious edifice stood 
 sequestered among a grove of tall fir trees, sur- 
 rounded by fields of waving grain. 
 
 The whispering murmur of these stately firs or 
 the hum of the bees flitting from flower to 
 flower alone disturbed the peaceful solitude 
 wherein these Old World fugitives from that 
 little vale in Switzerland peacefully slumbarad
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 109 
 
 with their friends and compatriots, who also had 
 sought freedom within this land. For that 
 thrice-blessed boon, these humble and faithful 
 souls had forsaken that which their unworldly 
 hearts held dear, the homes of their childhood, 
 nestling within the little valleys in the Lower 
 Palatinate, bordering upon the river Rhine and 
 among the narrow vales of the Alps. 
 
 Within this humble churchyard sleep many 
 who in life were possessed with the richness of 
 scholarly wisdom. John von Malthaus had 
 known Hebrew, Greek, and Latin. He had 
 been well read in science and philosophy. He 
 had brought his bride and son to America. Well 
 content was he to begin life iu a log cabin with his 
 little family about him to fill his garden with bees 
 and flowers to breathe the air of freedom. He 
 had been a lover of rare and curious books. In his 
 little home within the wilderness he had treas- 
 ured, priceless volumes, but of all his possessions 
 that he had prized the most had been his violin, 
 a Stradivarius. But John von Malthaus and his 
 one-time Alpine sweetheart, Eleanor, had been 
 sleeping for years within the little churchyard 
 beneath the shade of the whispering firs. Their 
 son Jacobus had wooed and won for his bride 
 Carolina Balthauser, and had lived for many 
 years upon the parental domain within this un-
 
 110 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 worldly land. Within an old-fashioned chest, 
 whose edges were studded with huge brass nails, 
 stored away in the old spare room of the Von 
 Malthaus homestead, were hidden the treasures 
 of his father. Within that obscure hiding-place 
 lay the precious tomes and the soulful Stradiva- 
 rius, forgotten like he whose heart in life had 
 responded and been ofttimes thrilled by the artis- 
 tic glamour their use and possession afforded. 
 
 Jacobus von Malthaus had been stricken by a 
 fever one summer's day, and was now also at rest 
 within the little churchyard with his elders. His 
 widow, the good Carolina von Malthaus, with 
 her son John lived in the old home within the 
 valley. Carolina von Malthaus was a true daugh- 
 ter of Pennsylvania. Her forefathers also had 
 emigrated from o'er the sea. She had been born 
 and reared into womanhood within this smiling 
 vale. Among these sj'lvan shades Jacobus von 
 Malthaus had wooed and won her. This region 
 had been her world. She had heard in a vague 
 way of distant cities, but to her they were so in- 
 definitely remote that their existence seemed 
 more like a fancy, rather than an actual reality. 
 She had naught in common with them. Her 
 household and her garden and the little valley 
 wherein she lived had been her world. 
 
 Affairs had not moved with their characteristic
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. Ill 
 
 serenity of late -within the Von Malthaus cottage 
 for the reason that the son and heir had devel- 
 oped a literary taste, a taste that ran to all sorts 
 of books and their reading. He invariably 
 seemed annoyed and perturbed when the even- 
 ing mail which reached the village at the close of 
 th day, did not bring him his newspaper from 
 the distant city, a restlessness and disappoint- 
 ment which caused the good old dame to be 
 sorely puzzled. She was at a loss to know why 
 a different paper was necessary each and every 
 day. Was his room not littered with them, and 
 had he not books upon a shelf, ay, a whole 
 dozen? Had she not studied her German prayer- 
 book these many years and yet found its pages 
 fruitful ? Had it not afforded her all consolation 
 when the good father died? And had she not 
 crooned her son to sleep these many times from 
 out its modest pages? Yes, softly and sweetly 
 had she lulled him to slumber time and again 
 while singing of Felix Mantz, the martyr, who 
 was "drowned at Zurich in 1526, as well as the 
 numerous other elegies of kindred saints. Then 
 why need he litter his room with all these papers? 
 and she would pause from her knitting and 
 sadly ponder. 
 
 This unfortunate distraction and interest in 
 worldly matters Dame von Malthaus ascribed to
 
 112 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 the knowledge of English which her son had 
 acquired of late years, a language with which it 
 surely seemed he had little in common. It had 
 all been in vain that the wise father of the house- 
 hold years ago with other zealous neighbors had 
 vigorously opposed the introduction of this 
 tongue into the public schools throughout the 
 valley. Was not the language of the fathers 
 good enough for the children? That tongue had 
 answered every purpose until of late years, when 
 innovations of almost every description seemed to 
 obtain, bringing in their footsteps a never-ending 
 train of perplexities and distracting cares. But 
 notwithstanding the protests put forth by those 
 conservative households, who fain would have 
 preferred that language suggestive of the dykes, 
 the Rhine, Alsace-Lorraine, and the Celts, this 
 English language had been recklessly introduced 
 and was taught the children throughout the 
 valley. Pennsylvania Dutch had been recklessly 
 elbowed aside, to the dismay of the more staid 
 and conservative households. Dame von Malt- 
 haus felt certain this knowledge of English was 
 alone responsible for her son's distraction and 
 interest in worldly matters. Were he unable to 
 express himself in this tongue, it would have 
 been impossible to have formed the acquaintance 
 of those wretched Yankees yonder. Vague
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 113 
 
 rumors had reached her that her son entertained 
 more than a friendly feeling for Ruth Manley, 
 the niece of Dame Endicott, \vho lived within 
 her peak-gabled farmhouse by the Susquehanna 
 o'er the hills. 
 
 Through the numerous innuendoes and little 
 bits of spiteful gossip which were whispered in 
 the unsuspecting ear of the good Frau von Malt- 
 haus by Catharine Fromknecht, in whose bosom 
 there lurked just the slightest semblance of the 
 green-eyed monster the dame was sorely trou- 
 bled. Had her son not told her only the other 
 day that there existed no such things as witches? 
 All this pointed to a painful conclusion; but the 
 good dame could only hope for the best and pray 
 that her son might remain aloof from the Endi- 
 cotts, who had come from a land where for a time 
 the witches had held full sway, and who had only 
 finally been subdued, when hung to a gibbet by 
 the score. 
 
 The fact that the Endicotts had come from 
 that stern New England country and were pos- 
 sessed of the indomitable characteristics of that 
 thirfty and progressive region, caused them to be 
 regarded with anything but favor by the folk of 
 the Nippanose, and the Endicotts had passed the 
 years almost apart from their quaint and un- 
 worldly neighbors as far as sociability was con-
 
 114 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 cerned. Indeed it was an open secret through- 
 out the land of the Nippanose that Dame Endicott 
 was a witch. If proof were wanting, it was 
 amply provided by the fact that she planted the 
 seeds within her garden with a reckless disre- 
 gard of all the signs and omens, and it had to 
 be generally conceded as well that there were few 
 whose efforts in an agricultural way were so 
 amply rewarded as those of the suspected woman. 
 "Who else would dream of flying into the face of 
 Providence, as it were, and with such marvelous 
 success, only to be equaled by a reward and 
 general prosperity in proportion to the audacity 
 with which the signs were set at naught? And 
 the fact that Dame Endicott thus took Providence 
 by the ear, as one might say, and caused it to 
 shower fruits in abundance at her feet, with a 
 lofty disdain for the chronicled signs within the 
 almanacs, was well-nigh distracting and caused 
 the old housewives throughout the Nippanose to 
 pause and ponder in dire amazement. But then, 
 who would dream of such frightul impertinence 
 save those possessed of occult power, such as 
 was ascribed to the stern New England dame in 
 the peak-gabled farmhouse by the river, whose 
 garden seemed to outstrip each and every one in 
 all the valley without the aid of favorable signs 
 or omens, with naught to aid its prosperity save
 
 DR. fcOFFENBURGH'S CHARM. llo 
 
 the golden sunshine and refreshing summer 
 showers, as well as the care bestowed upon it by 
 the wrinkled dame? 
 
 It was now almost five years since Dame Endi- 
 cott had laid her helpmate to rest beneath the 
 spreading elms in Massachusetts, and had re- 
 turned to these hills, bringing with her as a com- 
 panion her niece, Ruth Manley, who was now a 
 girl of scarce eighteen summers, and lived within 
 the peak-gabled dwelling by the river.
 
 116 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 IT was the close of a day in June, the sun that 
 all day long had shone with a tropic fervor, was 
 slowly sinking behind the pine-crowned ridge, it 
 softly kissed the leaves and flowers as though it 
 fain would make amends with a caressing and 
 tender touch ere the dewy eve once more revived 
 their faint and drooping spirits. It fell softly 
 upon the sunburned brow of Dame Endicott 
 within her garden. That severe and virtuous 
 dame was not a little vexed at the prolonged ab- 
 sence of her niece, Euth Manley, who had been 
 sent to the neighboring village on an errand that 
 day, and the dame's displeasure was steadily 
 increasing with the twilight's lengthening 
 shadows ; while her romantic niece, blissfully un- 
 conscious of the annoyance and vexation her 
 tarrying occasioned, dreamfully loitered beneath 
 the giant oak and hemlock trees bordering the 
 roadway that wound its sinuous length by the 
 storied river, whose soft murmuring waters 
 shone resplendent in golden ripples as they re- 
 flected the lingering rays of the setting sun.
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 117 
 
 Thus while Dame Endicott impatiently 
 watched the twilight shadows lengthen, her 
 niece, Ruth Manley, with her lover, John von 
 Malthaus, by her side, lingered and dreamed the 
 dreams of youth, captivated and lulled into for- 
 getfulness by the dream-laden whispers of the 
 Susquehanna, whose beguiling murmurs were 
 immeasurably surpassed for her in grace and 
 mystic beauty by the song of her youthful lover's 
 strain. 
 
 John von Malthaus and Ruth Manley were but 
 pausing now to listen to a mere prelude to that 
 symphony of enchantment, whose numbers were 
 yet to unfold unto them their mystic music of 
 bliss and pain, and this soft summer's evening, 
 as they loitered within the twilight shadows by 
 the river, they caught but a few stray bars of a 
 dreamy prelude, while Dame von Malthaus, in 
 yonder valley, assiduously searched within her 
 almanac for the proper and more propitious signs 
 calculated to impart the most helpful influences 
 to the garden plants, and occasionally gave vent 
 to a stifled sigh as she recalled the numerous bits 
 of gossip so artfully vouchsafed by the virtuous 
 Catharine Fromknecht; gossip that indicated 
 most painfully the probability that her son might 
 possibly be enamored with the niece of a witch, 
 the piece of a person who sowed and reaped
 
 1J8 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 within her garden with an utter disregard of all 
 signs and omens, an audacity which so painfully 
 evidenced a contempt and disdain of all time- 
 honored custom and ancient belief. 
 
 Dame Endicott, on her part, in her garden in 
 the valley of the Susquehanna, culled the roses 
 and watered the sweet peas, indignant and out 
 of patience at the prolonged absence of her 
 romantic niece, whose inclinations of late had 
 assumed an almost alarming aspect by their pro- 
 pensity to indulge in daydreams and kindred 
 nonsense. Had she not discovered her but the 
 other day plucking the snowy petals of a golden- 
 hearted daisy, and as each tiny leaflet fluttered 
 to the ground, idiotically repeating "He loves 
 me," or "he loves me not?" As she reflected 
 upon this rubbish and the fact that the loitering 
 culprit was at this moment probably seated amid 
 the ferns by the roadway rending another flower 
 in an endeavor to ascertain whether she was 
 beloved or not, while her share of the evening 
 toils remained unperformed, the thought caused 
 the stern and matter-of-fact woman many a pang. 
 
 Upon Miss Manley's appearance this evening 
 Dame Endicott had been annoyed almost beyond 
 measure when she was informed that her niece 
 had loitered over the splendor of the setting sun 
 and the rising moon above the river.
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM, 119 
 
 Did she not know that there were a dozen 
 towels to mend, the gooseberries to be picked, a 
 hamper of fruit to be packed for the village, 
 while the garden plants were athirst for water? 
 "With all this labor to be performed, was there 
 any time to be wasted in watching sunsets or the 
 rising moon above the river? She would indeed 
 be pleased to know what would become of things 
 in general if everyone stood about and went into 
 raptures at the shimmering moonbeams or the 
 twilight's mystic afterglow. 
 
 After reading the evening prayer, in which it 
 was requested, among other blessings, that more 
 practical judgment might be exercised by her 
 niece in the future, they made the customary 
 round to see that all the doors and windows were 
 securely locked and bolted, after which they 
 retired for the night ; but as the dame was falling 
 asleep vague forebodings flitted through her 
 mind, when she recalled the fact that Ruth had 
 grown to be most romantic of late. But the other 
 day while pruning the rose trees she would have 
 shorn them of their finest blooms instead of the 
 seared and withered ones, had she not recalled her 
 from her daydreams by a sharp reprimand, and as 
 it were brought her back to her senses again, and 
 here she had been for two mortal hours this very 
 evening going into raptures over the twilight's
 
 120 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 tender shadows. As she foil asleep, Dame Endi- 
 cott vaguely questioned herself if it "were possible 
 that all her training which had surely not been 
 of a nature to encourage such conduct, was for 
 naught. But she resolved that steps must be 
 taken on the morrow to nip this dreaming non- 
 sense in the bud, and with a vengeance at that. 
 "While the good dame was engaged in consider- 
 ing measures calculated to prevent the future 
 indulgence of daydreams and kindred rubbish, 
 the object of her thoughts and plans sat by the 
 open window of her little room and watched the 
 moon-bathed mountains and shimmering river 
 with a loving tenderness, wondering if what John 
 von Malthaus had told her but that very evening 
 was really true; and as she fell asleep sweet 
 dreams haunted her, while the dame slept the 
 sleep of the just. 
 
 The measures which Dame Endicott had 
 sternly considered with a view to the banishment 
 of the romantic nonsense and daydream rubbish 
 in which her niece was so shamelessly indulging, 
 unfortunately were never placed in execution, 
 because kind Fate happily forestalled her; for 
 upon the following morning, as Dame Endicott 
 opened the farmhouse door, she found at her feet 
 a nosegay ; what a tribute, indeed, thought she. 
 But her surprise was immeasurably increased as
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 121 
 
 she picked up the scented blossoms, by a note 
 which fluttered at her feet from among its fra- 
 grant petals, and her surprise was transformed 
 into annoyance and anger as she read the scented 
 missive, a missive that breathed undying affec- 
 tion for her romantic niece, and which closed 
 with an earnest appeal that Ruth would again 
 meet the writer by the ruins of the musician's 
 castle on yonder ridge that very afternoon, when 
 he would further declare his many fond dreams 
 and hopes. 
 
 Dame Endicott stood for a moment in perfect 
 silence, as if stupefied with amazement at this 
 unheard-of liberty and impertinence of the writer 
 of this note addressed to her niece, and so 
 adroitly proffered during the summer night. 
 After some deliberation, as if to collect her scat- 
 tered thoughts, she carefully wiped her specta- 
 cles and slowly, and with a regal majesty, seated 
 herself within her splint-bottomed armchair 
 upon the veranda and read this detestable mes- 
 sage again and again, with ever-increasing 
 humiliation and injured feelings. Was it possi- 
 ble? Did her eyes deceive her? A maudlin, 
 love-sick note from yonder t thick-witted Dutch- 
 man! Heaven defend her. 
 
 The lark was pouring forth his matin song in 
 notes of liquid splendor. The hollyhocks within
 
 122 DR. FOFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 the garden emitted their spicy fragrance with a 
 gracious prodigality. The veranda itself was 
 draped in delicate shades of blue and the palest 
 rose by the dainty morning-glories, but Dame 
 Endicott was unmindful of it all. 
 
 After the morning meal she sought the fruit- 
 ful freshness of her garden, where among its fra- 
 grant flowers she gave vent to her injured and 
 outraged feelings. At last the secret of the sun- 
 sets was hers. Previous to- this she would have 
 considered the idea of any one making love to 
 her foolish niece, even had such a fancy sug- 
 gested itself, as too utterly absurd to be enter- 
 tained for a single moment, and her consternation 
 was great and her annoyance still greater when 
 she received, as she styled it, "an eye-opener," 
 in the way of a note among these flowers. This, 
 then, was the reason why Ruth had grown to be 
 so romantic of late, and why she indulged in 
 those dreamy reveries. Were there not girls 
 enough in yonder valley that this uncouth swain 
 needs prowl around her house when all honest 
 folk should be asleep and litter her doorstep 
 with love-sick notes and flowers? Yes, thank 
 heaven, he must be met by all means that very 
 afternoon. She would make it her business to 
 see that his prayer was answered. How fortu- 
 nate that she had been the first to open the door
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S GHARM. 123 
 
 that morning. What an opportunity would have 
 been lost had Ruth found this message. What 
 a sunset story would again have been poured into 
 her unsuspecting ear that evening. What a 
 moonbeam argument would again have been pre- 
 sented as the beguiling factor and excuse for the 
 non-performance of her niece's share of the twi- 
 light toils! 
 
 The future, thank goodness, would now be 
 changed. She could act with her eyes open. 
 This abominable nonsense must be stopped. 
 This silly and love-lorn swain would find an audi- 
 ence that day by yonder romantic tryst, the 
 musician's castle, and unless she was greatly 
 mistaken, another disastrous ruin would be added 
 to the piles of antiquity ere the evening stars 
 appeared a most complete ruin, indeed, in the 
 shape of what she considered impertinent and 
 absolutely abominable love-sick fancies of a silly 
 and sighing swain. 
 
 It was this region of almost virginal wildness 
 by the west branch of the Susquehanna Eiver, 
 with the stimulating breath of the fragrant pine 
 and these far-stretching hills, etherealized in all 
 the delicate shades of woodland color, that a 
 great musician had selected as the place wherein 
 to woo the Muse and seek that inspiration in 
 whose execution mankind was enchanted. This
 
 124 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 peaceful environment appealed most strongly to 
 that inspired genius from the land of the Norse- 
 man. Among these enchanting vistas, one of the 
 world's greatest violinists had chosen to make 
 his home and rear for himself a castle fair novr 
 mouldering to decay and his dream had been 
 thus to pass the remainder of his life in a region 
 wherein his lofty soul was to soar serenely above 
 the clouds and shadows of the world with its fol- 
 lies, falsehoods, vanities and miseries. Dwell- 
 ing under these azure skies with only the wild 
 birds' vesper and matin song to break the har- 
 mony of Nature's symphony, he seemed to live 
 in heaven. To the matchless strain of his Tiolin 
 the whispering pine sighed in sympathy and 
 the wild bird paused to listen to that music 
 divine; but the musician has passed away and 
 dreamlessly slumbers by his native fiords in far- 
 distant Norway, while his castle still remains a 
 monument to his aspirations upon the brow of 
 the lofty hills o'erlooking the vale of the Nip- 
 panose amid the hemlock and pine-tree shades, 
 beyond the Susquehanna. 
 
 John von Malthaus had chosen as a tryst the 
 romantic environment by this crumbling ruin. 
 Among scenes whose echoes in the past had r- 
 yerberated and throbbed with a music divine and 
 tender, he had fondly planned to plight hit
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 125 
 
 troth ; for among the ineffaceable recollections of 
 his tender childhood, was that of a visit to the 
 castle, a visit which had enthralled and en- 
 chanted as he listened to the strains of music 
 evoked by the gifted violinist; the memory of 
 that matchless melody always lingered with him ; 
 those reverberations, so wondrously tender and 
 gratefully soothing and passive, seeming echoes 
 sent by the angels from their world's tone of 
 gladness to convey unto throbbing and listening 
 hearts, into dreary lives and our dreary night, 
 the faint spring melodies of starry regions; and 
 it seemed to him as if this was the environment 
 wherein to offer his heart, his all, unto her whom 
 he fondly worshiped, with the hope and prayer 
 that the magic influence of the harmony evoked 
 by the famous violinist in the past, might yet 
 linger among these peaceful shades and warp 
 itself into his troth, and sing forever unto his 
 bride, a song equally as gracious and exquisitely 
 tender, binding their hearts in a unison of vows, 
 whose strains of sweetness were to last forever.
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 THE mountain was casting its shadows half- 
 way across the valley ere John von Malthaus, 
 upon the day of his tryst by the ruined castle, 
 returned to his mother's cottage within its fra- 
 grant garden. Dame von Malthaus had just 
 planted a rosebush which Catharine Fromknecht 
 had so graciously sent her, and she was happy, 
 as the sign within her almanac represented a 
 virgin, a sign of the most propitious significance, 
 and one that was supposed to cause the plant to 
 bloom with a lavishness truly wonderful, typical 
 of the giver of this gift, always sweet and gra- 
 cious. Fraulein Fromknecht had succeeded to 
 most artfully ingratiate herself within Dame von 
 Malthaus' good grace and favor. 
 
 The old German song that Dame von Malthaus 
 was crooning suddenly ceased when she beheld 
 her son as he came up the hollyhock path and 
 passed into the cottage, without a single word of 
 greeting. Merciful goodness, what might the 
 matter be? Something terrible had surely hap- 
 pened to cause his usually smiling face to appear
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 127 
 
 thus haggard and careworn. Not a word would 
 he tell her of his agony ; to all her eager inqui- 
 ries he replied but with a sigh, and the good old 
 dame wrung her very hands in despair. In vain 
 she proffered bowls of boneset tea, her favorite 
 remedy for all the ills that made their appear- 
 ance at the little cottage; in vain were her 
 choicest viands set before him; like the monarch 
 of old, he turned his face to the wall and re- 
 fused to be comforted. 
 
 In imagination he once more heard that terri- 
 ble voice beneath the pine and hemlock trees 
 telling him never, no, never, was he to see Buth 
 Manley again, and quite unconsciously he begged 
 Dame Endicott to have mercy and pity. 
 
 Dame von Malthaus received a shock by the 
 revelation afforded by this knowledge, which 
 caused her to sink into her armchair utterly 
 overcome. Her own dear son at this very 
 moment was suffering all the cruel pangs pro- 
 duced by a witch's spell, a spell most cruelly and 
 maliciously woven by that wicked and wretched 
 Yankee woman across the hills. How often had 
 she wisely counseled, nay, beseeched him to 
 remain away from the Endicotts, but he had 
 laughed her to scorn, and now he was lying pros- 
 trate before her. Had she not repeatedly warned 
 him against the wiles and incantations of this
 
 128 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 Yankee tribe? But, no, he would not heed her, 
 and now he was reaping the harvest of his folly 
 and suffering all the tortures of a witch's spell, 
 and she was powerless to help him. 
 
 She gratefully remembered that Frau From- 
 knecht had told her that day that the wise Dr. 
 Poffenburgh was to join her at tea that very 
 evening, and unto the wise doctor's skill Dame 
 von Malthaus hurried breathlessly for relief and 
 succor. 
 
 She found that revered and wise old person 
 sipping the fragrant tea with his wrinkled and 
 gracious hostess, and it seemed the topic under 
 discussion at the very moment was the terrors and 
 ravages that would be wrought by the witches, 
 were they left to themselves with no one to un- 
 ravel their deftly woven webs. The doctor had 
 just ended a description of the valley if these 
 dreadful creatures were permitted to work out 
 their evil at their own sweet will. It would be 
 entirely depopulated it seemed, the desolate mo* 
 notony only broken by these frightful creatures 
 flitting upon the conventional broomstick from 
 one deserted farmhouse to another, an imagi- 
 nary state of affairs so distressing as to cause 
 Dame Fromknecht to hold up her hands in mute 
 horror and dismay; when the door was suddenly 
 and unceremoniously thrown open and Frau von 
 Malthaus stood within its portal.
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 129 
 
 In gasps she told her story, how her son John 
 had that day disappeared into the woodland path 
 that led across the hills, blithely singing a song, 
 and now he was lying within the cottage utterly 
 prostrated by a witch's spell, and shrieking unto 
 the wicked Dame Endicott to have mercy and 
 pity. Would not the good, kind doctor hasten 
 to his relief and proffer the precious assistance? 
 Overcome by sobs and fears, the dame bemoaned 
 her many cares and troubles. Such a misfortune 
 surely had not overtaken the cottage since the 
 good father died. Why, in heaven's name, had 
 these Endicotts not remained away from these 
 peaceful hills and wrought out their attending 
 evil in that far-away land whence they came? 
 
 The doctor, with a wise and knowing look, 
 hastily bade Dame Fromknecht adieu and accom- 
 panied Dame von Malthaus to her cottage, when 
 just as they entered they heard the sufferer again 
 beg Dame Endicott to have just a little pity. 
 
 The doctor viewed the stricken one with some 
 alarm and hastily calling for the family Bible, 
 from its venerable pages proceeded to extract the 
 leaf on which the date of the stricken one's birth 
 was recorded. Beneath this record he wrote 
 some words in the language of the witches, a 
 series of hieroglyphics calculated to strike terror 
 and dismay unto these imps of Satan, after which
 
 130 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 he closed it up within the Bible's pages and 
 placed the sacred book beneath the sufferer's 
 pillow. He then produced from his capaciou s 
 waistcoat pockets some dry and withered herbs. 
 These were carefully burned upon an old blue 
 delft plate and the ashes placed within a little 
 silken bag, to which was attached a narrow 
 ribbon. This was deftly and carefully wound 
 about the sufferer's neck to hold the charm in 
 place. Dr. Poffenburgh seemed to suspect the 
 cause of all the trouble, because he deftly placed 
 the charm above the sleeper's heart. 
 
 Dame von Malthaus awaited the result of the 
 wise doctor's skill with bated breath, and she 
 was eventually rewarded by a series of long-drawn 
 sighs and less delirious talk, followed, thank 
 heaven, by sweet sleep at last. Untold joy was 
 hers as she saw the look of pain give way to a 
 calm refreshing slumber, and she showered bless- 
 ings upon the good doctor's head and praised 
 the day and the natal star of his nativity. 
 
 In the days that followed Dame von Malthaus 
 somehow felt certain something had gone amiss; 
 for while the application of this charm had 
 afforded some relief, she felt that its result had 
 not been what she had fondly anticipated, be- 
 cause it had left her son, it seemed to her, weary 
 and discouraged ; an indefinite something seemed
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 1G1 
 
 to oppress him ; but all her eager inquiries were 
 only answered with a sigh. 
 
 This state of affairs, with its indefiniteness 
 and painful uncertainty, found the good dame 
 and her son one sunshiny summer's morning, as 
 the solemn tones of the old church bell rolled in 
 splendor o'er the hill and valley, slowly making 
 their way toward the old gray church, nestling 
 amid the grove of whispering firs and billowy 
 grain fields. Dame von Malthaus was arrayed in 
 that black and somber attire so suggestive of 
 grief, and calculated to announce unto her 
 friends that her heart was yet in tears for the 
 good and faithful husband upon whose grave the 
 dew lay in pearls at this very moment. She oc- 
 casionally looked upon the thoughtful counte- 
 nance of her boy with strange misgivings as he 
 walked with downcast head and sore at heart by 
 her side, a dejection which evidenced most pain- 
 fully the fact that the influence of that eerie spell 
 had by no means been entirely dispelled. 
 Surely, the charm of the good Dr. Poffenburgh 
 had done wonders, but she was certain something 
 had gone amiss. Why should he have grown to 
 be thus wistfully sad and seemingly lonely since 
 its application? While, the Lord be praised, 
 the journeys across the hills to the Endicott 
 farmhouse were happily ended, yet she would
 
 132 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 give worlds if the wise doctor's skill could also 
 restore the brightness to the eye, and the cheer- 
 ful smile so sadly missing. She was thrown into 
 such a sad and sorrowful reverie as she thought 
 of all her cares and troubles, that when she 
 passed within the portals of the quaint old 
 church, tears were slowly coursing down her fur- 
 rowed cheeks. Things had really not gone well 
 with her since the Lord had seen fit to call away 
 the good, kind father. But last week her boy 
 had been sorely stricken by a witch's spell, and 
 despite the skillful charm of the wise Dr. Poffen- 
 burgh, wss not again his natural self. The 
 choicest plants within her garden had been 
 nipped by the frost that very spring-time, and 
 their successors were not doing well at all, 
 although she had faithfully and carefully heeded 
 all the signs and omens, yet still it would seem 
 ill-luck betided them. A brood of soft, downy 
 chickens had been ruthlessly swept away by a 
 freshet in the little brook, caused by a sudden 
 thunder shower but a few days ago. The birds 
 had ravaged the strawberry beds, while the 
 crickets had maliciously and woefully nibbled 
 the lettuce and the vine of the grape. The plum 
 trees were shedding their leaves already, which 
 prophesied thus plainly a deficit of their usual 
 luscious and plentiful quota. The beetle had
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 133 
 
 invaded the rose and the cabbage, while the 
 hops, although they had bloomed most prodi- 
 giously, bore naught save leaves, and amid the 
 mournful strains of "Rock of Ages Cleft for Me," 
 played upon the organ by the virtuous Catharine 
 Fromknecht, in sad and sympathetic strains, the 
 good dame \vept softly and mingled her tears 
 with its soothing and saddening numbers, as the 
 reflection of her many cares crowded themselves 
 upon her. 
 
 She had a feeling of regret that this spirit of 
 humility and sadness did not affect the giggling 
 and rosy-cheeked country girls who it really 
 seemed could not be serious for a single moment. 
 In the pew just back of John von Malthaus and 
 his weeping mother sat a bevy of these thought- 
 less creatures, and they surveyed him with not a 
 little interest, as it had become known that he 
 was, or just recently had been, bewitched, and 
 they discussed, with an eagerness most painful 
 under the circumstances, the fact that over yon- 
 der mountain lived the author of all this mis- 
 chief. What was still more startling and won- 
 derful, was the fact that the frightful spell had 
 been woven by the very aunt of John's sweet- 
 heart, as it had been an undisguised and well- 
 known fact throughout the valley that he had 
 transferred his wooing to yonder valef and why
 
 134 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 this should be seemed an unanswerable and 
 embarrassing mystery. Was not the fruitful vale of 
 the Nippanose overflowing with blooming maid- 
 ens? Did not a pair of dimpled arms and pearly 
 teeth greet one at each and every farmhouse nest- 
 ling within the valley ?Why he should have chosen 
 to transfer his love-making o'er yonder hills ap- 
 peared indeed a painful mystery, and to this 
 giggling bevy not flattering, to say the least. 
 The spell which the stern dame was supposed to 
 have thrown o'er this recreant lover was looked 
 upon as a just rebuke for turning his back upon 
 so much loveliness, all of which might have been 
 had for the asking, so to speak. Like all trans- 
 gressors, John von Malthaus had not found his 
 path strewn with roses, but it appeared thorns 
 many and sharp had greeted his wandering 
 footsteps. 
 
 After a careful and minute discussion of this 
 important, and one might say, provoking, sub- 
 ject, conversation turned into other channels, 
 and the blooming and buxom lasses buzzed and 
 tittered. In vain did the good preacher beseech 
 his hearers to mend their ways; in vain did the 
 powerful prayer fall upon these thoughtless 
 creatures. Topic after topic was discussed, and 
 all the little bits of gossip that could be thought 
 pf were dissected with an eagerness which was
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 135 
 
 looked upon as little short of sacrilege by the 
 weeping dame in the preceding pew ; but their 
 tongues never ceased, and among the many 
 things reviewed and commented upon was a 
 quilting party that was to be given by Mother 
 Carrabes upon the following day; and just to 
 think of it, Dame Endicott had been invited, 
 more through fear that she would bewitch the 
 whole valley and everybody in it if slighted, than 
 from a desire to have her present. And what 
 was still more wonderful, she had announced 
 herself as one of the coming guests. This an- 
 nouncement was [hailed with astonishment, and 
 simply caused several to hold their breath, 
 while "Mein Gott im Himmel" escaped not a 
 few rosy lips. 
 
 John von Malthaus' ear caught the latter por- 
 tion of this thrice welcome sentence, that Dame 
 Endicott had consented to grace this quilting 
 party by her presence, and this naturally implied 
 that Ruth would be alone in the old gray farm- 
 house upon that day. Thrice-welcome news, 
 indeed. He would go and see her despite all the 
 threats and harm that had been promised by 
 Dame Endicott did he but venture near her 
 domain again. But how could he wait until to- 
 morrow? Would the prayer never end, so that 
 be could walk or sing or do something to give
 
 136 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 vent to the feelings which the good news 
 inspired? He had thought and wondered until 
 his heart had grown sick and weary how he 
 might in some way see Euth Manley just once 
 more and receive from her dear lips the assurance 
 that she loved him well enough to wait until the 
 dame grew more lenient. He was sure that 
 time would soften her, but no avenue seemed to 
 offer its friendly pathway, and he had almost 
 ceased to hope in very despair; when now an 
 opportunity was almost at hand when he could 
 once more go and see her. 
 
 Dame von Malthaus had just poured forth her 
 sorrows and trials in prayer, and begged the 
 good Lord to send relief unto her many troubles, 
 when to her unutterable joy, as she slowly arose 
 from her knees her prayer was answered, for she 
 once again beheld the happy and cheerful coun- 
 tenance of her boy. Who was there that 
 doubted the efficacy of prayer when sorrow 
 and distress assailed the heart? "Were there not 
 some worldly creatures who were prone to scoff 
 at faith and prayer when trials and troubles were 
 many? Why, here was the very manifestation 
 that went to show that it was mighty and the 
 Lord's mercy abounding without end. From 
 the depth of her unworldly heart she blessed the 
 Lord for his wondrous benignity and all-endear- 
 ing love and care.
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 137 
 
 Meanwhile within the valley of the Susque- 
 hanna Dame Endicott was busily engaged in 
 effecting such measures as, in her opinion, so 
 deplorable and humiliating a state of affairs 
 really warranted; for of all things this virtuous 
 and matter-of-fact daine despised the most was 
 a tendency toward the romantic. Her indigna- 
 tion and contempt was therefore great, when she 
 discovered that John von Malthaus, from yonder 
 valley, had had the audacity and effrontery to 
 approach her niece in so romantic a manner, 
 using as a medium whereby to convey, as far as 
 she was concerned, the most odious of communi- 
 cations, a nosegay of hollyhocks and roses which 
 had been tenderly deposited upon her doorstep 
 to the music of the rippling river bathed in 
 moonlight. 
 
 Had he but approached her in a more manly 
 fashion, she might have deigned to listen to his 
 suit ; at least, to the extent of advising him to 
 confine his wooings within yonder valley, and 
 among people of his own, but to thus endeavor to 
 slyly outwit her, was a matter by far too griev- 
 ous to be lightly passed over, and the fact that 
 her niece had been just silly enough to encourage 
 such despicable conduct, causing her to grow 
 still more romantic and foolish, loitering over 
 sunsets and twilight shadows, was not calculated
 
 138 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 to lessen her displeasure in the least, a displeas- 
 ure and annoyance that had been fully vented 
 upon the day of her meeting with this sighing 
 and love-sick swain. 
 
 After that eventful interview she had con- 
 cluded that steps must immediately be taken to 
 effectually end this abominable nonsense, and 
 upon her return from that tryst, a tryst that only 
 proved conclusively unto the land of the Nip- 
 panose that she was possessed with occult power, 
 she bade her niece accompany her within the 
 vine-draped veranda, and while seated within its 
 dusky shadows, that unconscious culprit was in- 
 formed that on the morrow they would embark 
 upon a journey which the dame had concluded 
 was the only and certain way of once more re- 
 storing the normal condition of affairs within her 
 household. She would take her to Aunt Pris- 
 cilla, in Massachusetts, and among distant 
 scenes and practical people it was sincerely 
 hoped she would acquire wisdom and forget this 
 uncouth person from yonder valley, who seemed 
 just simple enough to litter the doorstep with 
 love-sick notes and flowers. 
 
 Tears were shed by the unhappy culprit as she 
 listened to that sentence of exilement from the 
 valley. No more would she hear the boatman's 
 song, nor watch the sun go down in splendor;
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 139 
 
 no more would she pause to listen to the sighing 
 pines drowsily murmur in the fitful breeze or 
 chant those strains of wondrous music, whose 
 minor chords seemed to echo her thoughts and 
 feelings this very moment while she was deluged 
 in tears. No more would she listen to the lark, 
 singing his notes in pure and liquid splendor 
 while seated upon the topmost twig of the wal- 
 nut tree wherein his nest was so fearlessly built 
 upon a fragile and swaying bough. The lilacs 
 down by the garden gate would bloom for and 
 be gathered by her no more, all because John 
 von Malthaus said he loved her, a sentiment 
 which the dame described as simply a huddle of 
 uncertainty and an ever-changing caprice and 
 fickle fancy. 
 
 And so it was that upon the day of Dame Car- 
 rebes' festivities, when John von Malthaus called 
 at the Endicott farmhouse he was pained and 
 surprised to learn that Ruth Manley had been 
 sent away to Massachusetts. But before leaving 
 she had left a note with the trim housemaid for 
 Mr. von Malthaus, with the hope that in some 
 way he might receive it. This note was very 
 short, and simply stated that she would always 
 love him, come what may, and she would surely 
 wait for him until the dame might grow more 
 lenient toward his advances, and closed with the
 
 140 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 following somewhat romantic, ungrammatical 
 stanza; a stanza penned by a loving hand, and 
 to John von Malthaus more gracious and exqui- 
 site than any effusion that had ever flowed from 
 a laureate's pen: 
 
 " Hills may tower and waves may rise 
 And roll between my love and me, 
 Still my quenchless memory will turn 
 With undying love to thee." 
 
 And so it was that within the Yon Malthaus 
 cottage peace once more reigned supreme, for the 
 good Frau von Malthaus was unable to express 
 her gratitude at the marvelous change for the 
 better in the spirits of her son, who once more 
 had regained that cheerfulness, which, since 
 he had been stricken by a witch's spell, had been 
 so sadly missing. And she was thoroughly con- 
 vinced that only for the wonderful charm of the 
 good Dr. Poffenburgh, aided by her sincere and 
 fervent prayers, he might yet be pining and be 
 sorely harassed by the influence of that baneful 
 spell. That charm at last had dispelled com- 
 pletely the fondness for the maid o'er yonder 
 hills, whose aunt for once had accomplished a 
 blessing in bewitching a victim who had refused 
 to listen to advice and reason, and only ceased 
 his unwearying attentions when prostrated by
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 141 
 
 the eerie spell so deftly and skillfully woven by 
 the wicked dame. 
 
 But John von Malthaus' soul was elated, and 
 he had once more regained those sanguine 
 spirits so delightfully natural, because he treas- 
 ured a poem next his heart which, to his enam- 
 ored fancy, was poetry indeed, before whose 
 entrancing graciousness those overpraised 
 Browning and Shakespearean sonnets dwindled 
 into the veriest twaddle; and because he felt 
 certain that Time, that effectual solver of so many 
 perplexing problems, would unfold unto him its 
 blissful tale and eventually reward him with the 
 hand of the beauteous Ruth. To Time's treach- 
 erous uncertainties he fondly pinned his hopes, 
 and blissfully dreamed of the quota of joy its 
 changing years would eventually bring him and 
 cast at his feet that pearl of grace.
 
 142 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TIME passed wearily and slowly to John von 
 Malthaus in the valley of the Nippanose ; it slowly 
 dragged its long days into weeks and months 
 and years while his fond and faithful heart was 
 patiently waiting for the return of Miss Manley. 
 
 Four successive spring-times had bedecked the 
 valley and hills with their wealth of buds and 
 garlands; four successive seasons the violets had 
 opened and scattered their perfume far and wide ; 
 as many summers had laid their green oaken 
 canopy adown the mountain side and caused the 
 valley to ripple and wave in fields of wheat and 
 barley, while John von Malthaus patiently waited 
 with a tender longing for his love. 
 
 Nature during these days of waiting was his 
 only friend and comforter. The beautiful and 
 glorious mountain crests were all around him, 
 and upon their distant green-mantled peaks his 
 weary and waiting heart found comfort and 
 solace in gazing. Symphonies of matchless 
 grandeur were afforded him by the summer thun- 
 der showers and storms among these hills; in his
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 143 
 
 uneventful life what could match them in elo- 
 quence and poetry? He listened to the rush 
 from heaven of the big drops, in endless multi- 
 tude and succession. How they sounded as they 
 struck; how they played upon the roof of the 
 cottage and the thick treetops; what music to 
 go to sleep by, as the great low bass thunder 
 rolled off over the hills and settled down behind 
 their very center, dying away in faint and mut- 
 tering echoes! 
 
 After these summer storms which always fol- 
 lowed the sultry days, how refreshed were the 
 hollyhocks, their ruffled petals drenched with 
 the warm summer rain, and how they exhaled 
 their perfume in veritable gusts of old-fashioned 
 sweetness! The tulips whose cups would glisten 
 and shine with the life-giving waters, always 
 stood erect and sturdy after these summer rains. 
 The roses whose petals would be drenched and 
 dripping after this grateful deluge always gave 
 forth their perfume in manifold quotas of grace 
 and richness. 
 
 To John von Malthaus the lesson afforded by 
 these summer rains and these old-fashioned 
 flowers was a source of comfort and not a little 
 consolation. For during the sultry days when 
 all Nature seemed drooping and weary, at the 
 close of the scorching vigil came these copious
 
 144 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 and graciously cooling showers, showers that fell 
 like a benediction upon the blooms that had 
 waited and longed for the cooling and life-giving 
 drops; and so would eventually come to an end 
 his weary vigil of the heart; unto it in a shower 
 of untold grace and surpassing sweetness would 
 return the love of his tender years, cheering and 
 refreshing him, not unlike the hollyhocks, the 
 rose and the tulip, while tears of sincere thank- 
 fulness for the end of the weary years of waiting 
 should be typical of the drops of the warm summer 
 rains upon the fragrant petals of these old- 
 fashioned blooms. 
 
 While the seasons succeeded one another in 
 the vale of the Nippanose, John von Malt- 
 haus patiently hoped and waited. To Miss Ruth 
 Manley, as a student at the Young "Women's 
 College at Northminster, in Massachusetts, life 
 had assumed a different aspect, as it were, for she 
 had garnered a knowledge that had brought with 
 it the full realization of Dame Endicott's hopeful 
 prediction; she had passed into a different 
 sphere, upon a plane whence she viewed that life 
 by the distant Susquehanna tenderly, but with 
 the feeling that its peaceful tenor and homely 
 joys could no more offer to her awakened and 
 ambitious spirit the fulfillment of dreams whose 
 realization could never be attained within the
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 145 
 
 narrow intellectual confines of that distant vale 
 with its flowing river and quiet hills. 
 
 Upon the termination of her college dayo Miss 
 Manley had been confronted by the problem of 
 the future, that problem with which mankind 
 ever schemes and struggles; a problem encom- 
 passed by an ocean of hopes and fears. With 
 what tired and straining eyes do we scan that 
 immutable horizon for but one stray glimpse be- 
 yond its veil; that pitiless future with its cer- 
 tainties and uncertainties, that mysterious and 
 silent epoch of possibilities and impossibilities. 
 Oh, for some sorcery whereby the curtain might 
 be lifted for a single moment to catch but one 
 glimpse beyond that veil, that veil which so mer- 
 cifully and yet so cruelly hides, an irrevocable 
 heritage of bliss and pain, that heritage to man- 
 kind of success and failure, that future with its 
 fancied cycles rosy with human hopes and dark 
 with impending shadows. 
 
 It had been for Miss Manley to choose one of 
 the professions as a career, one wherein she might 
 acquire independence at least, and, who could 
 tell? Possibly Fame. But the so-called profes- 
 sions whose walks of life the modern female was 
 seeking somehow did not appear to her as the 
 means through which her ambitious spirit might 
 find congeniality and a fitting recompense.
 
 146 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 There were numberless vocations that women 
 could fill with all propriety, and that were quite 
 within the dictates of a woman's sphere; but 
 she also felt that there were professions that were 
 surely not appropriate for feminine roles, and in 
 which the female, to her way of thinking, was 
 sorely out of place. The modern woman it 
 seemed longed to be a disciple of Blackstone, 
 pushing her one-time shrinking personality into 
 prominence within the halls of justice where the 
 very air itself was contaminated with sin and 
 crime, like the violet turned scavenger within the 
 wretched byways and highways of man. Then 
 there was the calling of surgery. But to plunge 
 the keen and sharp-edged knife within the quiv- 
 ering flesh of some wretched and helpless 
 creature, caused hereto shudder ; and the thought 
 that all this from the female whose sensitive 
 nature had been heretofore supposed to be so 
 fine and delicate that the thought of pain alone 
 evoked nervous shudders, Miss Manley and her 
 Aunt Friscilla were surely at a loss to under- 
 stand. 
 
 After many days of thoughtful consideration, 
 they had at last concluded that as an artist she 
 might possibly achieve success, as such might 
 afford a channel for the expression of those 
 artistic feelings which since a child she had
 
 t>R. !>OFFNBURGH'S CHARM. 147 
 
 tenderly nourished. As an artist she might per- 
 haps succeed in producing some evidence of her 
 inmost thoughts and feelings, those thoughts 
 and feelings whose very existence were so 
 elusively subtle. With what pleasure had 
 she time and again watched the moon-bathed 
 river and the purple hills and lost herself in 
 poetic reveries over the ivy-covered castle 
 upon the brow of the mountain by that soft- 
 murmuring river. She would catch and place 
 upon the canvas the true color of those far- 
 stretching hills by the Susquehanna. She would 
 paint the morning-glories in all their exquisite 
 and dainty shades. The full-blown rose would 
 be produced upon her canvas with a faithfulness 
 whose lack of perfume alone would reveal the 
 picture. The ruffled hollyhocks and apple 
 blooms would appear upon her canvas with the 
 faithfulness and grace which characterized their 
 old-fashioned splendor, while the old gray Endi- 
 cott farmhouse beneath the cluster of walnut 
 trees, with that storied river for a perspective, 
 would be a subject of endless delight and charm- 
 ing possibilities. The ruin of the musician's castle 
 upon the towering brow of the pine-crowned 
 ridge by the Susquehanna would be a subject 
 worthy of far greater talent, and it would surely 
 be a source of inspiration to her together with
 
 148 DR. POFFENBURGER'S CHARM. 
 
 the quaint old farmhouses within the Nippanose 
 valley, or rather the images of their rustic grace 
 and nestling vine-hidden roofs. These would be 
 preserved, and their old-time beauty lovingly re- 
 flected upon the canvas by the magic of her 
 brush. 
 
 John von Malthaus had passed into a remote- 
 ness dim and beautiful, and she only thought of 
 the days of her youth-time as she would muse on 
 the remembrance of a happy dream; and yet 
 there was a recollection which somehow seemed 
 to linger, a recollection just a trifle different 
 from her other remembrances of the days of her 
 girlhood, the recollection of a sincere and honest 
 personality, so rare and refreshing in comparison 
 with the types of men she had grown accustomed 
 to meet. 
 
 She had, however, concluded that Mr. von 
 Malthaus had undoubtedly long ago forgotten 
 her in his striving for the future and the achieve- 
 ment of greater things; still that haunting 
 remembrance of how he had climbed upon the 
 shelving rocks and gathered for her the bell- 
 shaped petals of the fair columbine; of the clus- 
 ters of wild mountain blooms wet with the dew 
 that had been brought o'er the hills in those 
 bygone days and laid at her feet in a homage 
 both sincere and tender, lingered in her mind.
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 149 
 
 Dimly were recalled the trysts in days gone by 
 beneath the hemlock trees by that ruined castle, 
 while they silently watched the t\\ilight shadows 
 enshrouding hill and valley in mutual apprecia- 
 tion, their hearts filled to overflowing, captivated 
 and beguiled by the peaceful and tender beauty 
 of the scene, and yet those were only the days of 
 her childhood. She smiled as she remembered 
 that note left with the maid upon her departure 
 from the home of Dame Endicott, that note in 
 which she had poetically declared she would love 
 him forever, but she felt almost certain that it 
 had never been delivered, for the reason that no 
 one from that gabled farmhouse by the river 
 ever ventured into yonder valley ; and perhaps it 
 had been just as well. Yet faint and dreamy, 
 like the perfume of a forgotten flower, was the 
 remembrance of days that had been full of joy, 
 and were so free from all care and worry, days 
 when it had not been necessary to sit and 
 patiently listen to uninteresting people and to 
 adopt oneself, so to speak, to personalities 
 that one felt instinctively were unnatural, and 
 their efforts to appear interesting strained and 
 painfully discordant. 
 
 The succeeding summer Priscilla Hall dwelt 
 alone within the peaceful shadows of her quiet 
 home. Her life was frequently brightened by
 
 150 DR. POFFENBURGHTS CHARM. 
 
 long and interesting letters from her niece in 
 distant Philadelphia, where the polished plate 
 upon the door of a quaint old mansion on Ritten- 
 house Square evidenced the career she had 
 chosen xvhereby to attain independence, and 
 possibly fame, and "which bore the simple inscrip- 
 tion of "Ruth Manley, Artist,"
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 151 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A YEAR after Miss Manley had left the college 
 at Northminster, that institution, in accordance 
 with its usual custom, issued a pamphlet setting 
 forth its many virtues, and among the informa- 
 tion contained therein was a series of sketches 
 which chronicled the successes in the various 
 walks of life past-graduates of the school had 
 attained. That respecting Miss Manley simply 
 related the fact that that 'young lady was now 
 located in the city of Philadelphia, where she 
 was wedded to her art. 
 
 One of ^the catalogues found its way to the 
 sleepy village of Peacedale, in Pennsylvania, and 
 strange to relate, fell into the hands of Catharine 
 Fromknecht. With a beating heart she read the 
 short description of the well-doing of her one- 
 time unconscious rival; "wedded to her art!" 
 those were the words that rang sweetly through 
 her being and caused her pulses to beat with 
 very joy. So she was married, and here was 
 honest John von Malthaus wearing out his life 
 and heart waiting for her return unto the valley,
 
 152 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 and to him. No eyes had he for dimpled beauty, 
 no thought for those throughout the valley, who 
 fain would listen and coyly stay. "What a shame, 
 but then what could be expected from those in 
 league with the witches? 
 
 Not a moment was to be lost, but arraying her- 
 self in her daintiest dimity frock, she hurried to 
 the Von Malthaus cottage and related the re- 
 markable tidings of the marriage of Miss Manley 
 to Herr Art, and the fact that she was now living 
 with her lord and master in distant Philadel- 
 phia, adding with ill-concealed delight, that Miss 
 Manley must have forgotten the vales of the 
 Nippanoseand the Susquehanna long ere this, and 
 everybody in them as well. 
 
 She had found Dame von Malthaus and her 
 son at tea, and seated by the side of the gracious 
 dame, she chattered and bubbled over with news 
 and information respecting each and every 
 household for miles around. But this precious 
 pamphlet which a kind Providence had so gra- 
 ciously sent her, afforded her the daintiest mor- 
 sel, and why should it not? Surely fate was 
 kind. Dr. Poffenburgh's charm had done won- 
 ders, and it now only remained for her to win 
 this tardy lover who had been foolish enough to 
 set his heart on so fickle and ill-omened an object 
 as the niece of a witch who sowed and reaped
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 153 
 
 within her garden by yonder river regardless of 
 all signs and omens. It would surely not be an 
 instance where "faint heart never won fair lady," 
 but where "faint heart never won fair gentle- 
 man," and if she knew Catherina Paulina From- 
 knecht aright, a lack of persistence and dogged 
 perseverance as well as unceasing effort to win 
 this cast-off lover, should surely not prevent her 
 from securing the fulfillment of her fond desire; 
 and as for a faint heart, why she just simply 
 considered herself as good as married. 
 
 Dame von Malthaus was surprised that her 
 son should decline the second cup of tea, for 
 which he had asked her just before Catharine 
 Fromknecht had unbosomed herself of the knowl- 
 edge pertaining to affairs in general with which 
 she seemed brimming over. She was so en- 
 grossed in listening to the chattering of her 
 guest that she failed to notice her son had quietly 
 left the tea-table, the biscuit upon his plate un- 
 touched, and the cup of tea was growing cold 
 beside the teapot, while Catharine Fromknecht 
 lingered and chattered with the hope that John 
 von Malthaus would reappear, when she proposed 
 to immediately lay siege to his heart and fasci- 
 nate him with her wit and brilliant conversation, 
 as it evidenced most emphatically that she was 
 thoroughly versed in the ways of the world ; not
 
 154 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 a single instance had transpired within the en- 
 tire valley but she knew all about it. She knew 
 just how many pounds of butter had been pro- 
 duced at each and every farmhouse, she was 
 thoroughly conversant with the condition of 
 affairs down in the village; each and every bit 
 of gossip was in her keeping. She even knew 
 snatches of news concerning the folk in the 
 valley among the Yankees, a knowledge of whose 
 affairs naturally implied a spirit of investigation 
 and a bent for obtaining information whose im- 
 portance could not fail to impress even the most 
 uninterested. What admirable qualities in a 
 housewife! 
 
 It was her intention to criticise Dame von 
 Malthaus' biscuit in the presence of her son, and 
 explain in detail how they might have been pro- 
 duced more crisp and flaky ; the tea was also to 
 be dwelt upon as to how its strength and fra- 
 grance might have been increased, while a de- 
 scription of the honey jumbles she had made that 
 very afternoon she felt certain would cause Dame 
 von Malthaus' son to long for an opportunity 
 to sample a product of her culinary skill, thus 
 paving the way for desires which she felt certain 
 could not fail to culminate in the desire on the 
 part of John von Malthaus, not only for the fruit 
 of her cleverness and wit, but for her own match-
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 155 
 
 less and peerless self, she with whom no other 
 maid in all the valley could compare, and who 
 appeared as the regal and full-blown sunflower, 
 eclipsing and outshining all the maidens 
 throughout the vale, putting their insignificant 
 and unasserted personalities to the blush, out- 
 shining them as the very sun outshone the 
 plebeian and homely tallow dip. 
 
 But the twilight shadows were softly falling, 
 yet the object of her plans failed to appear, and 
 after waiting patiently until the shades of night 
 began to deepen, she concluded to return home 
 ere it became entirely dark. 
 
 As she passed through the garden pathway she 
 fancied in the dim obscure light she discerned a 
 bowed figure, seated upon an old rustic seat 
 among the hollyhocks, but she concluded it must 
 have been a shadow. Hark, was that not a sob 
 that fell upon her ear? No, it could not be; 
 surely, no one had cause for grief now that Dr. 
 Poffenburgh's charm had so completely proved 
 effectual, and the witch's influence had been 
 entirely dispelled. It was no doubt the breeze 
 among the tree tops, and as she wended her way 
 homeward, what fond castles were reared, castles 
 based upon the effectualness of Dr. Poffen- 
 burgh's charm, whose efficiency was surely 
 attested by this delightful piece of news that
 
 156 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 Dame Endicott's niece was married to Herr 
 Art. 
 
 There would be changes in yonder cottage 
 once she reigned therein; that old Dutch arm- 
 chair, studded with brass nails and covered with 
 the dark green corduroy would be replaced by 
 one of the gorgeous rocking chairs to be had at 
 the village store, covered with just the loveliest 
 Brussels carpet imaginable, with huge red 
 flowers, the very thing to brighten the place. 
 Those Swiss muslin curtains would be replaced 
 with hangings of red calico, of a pattern similar 
 to that of her new tea-gown, whereon was shown 
 birds' nests filled with eggs, with the birds 
 themselves fluttering about in the gorgeous back- 
 ground. Those old blue plates so neatly ranged 
 within the corner closet would surely be placed 
 out of sight, and be solely used as pie platters, 
 and thus have their ugliness covered up ; they 
 would be replaced with china of a moss rose pat- 
 tern, to be had at the village store, as there 
 seemed little necessity in making an exhibition 
 of this old ware, since it only went to show that 
 one had naught save old things. 
 
 Dame von Malthaus seemed quite sweet in her 
 lace cap and cheerful smile, but after all was 
 said and done, the old lady was insipid, no snap 
 to her whatever; what she really wanted was a
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 157 
 
 manager. That was what the cottage and every- 
 body in it needed sadly, and once she was Mrs. 
 von Malthaus, there was little doubt in her mind 
 but matters would be managed, ay, managed 
 wisely, thoroughly and well. 
 
 Thus she dreamed in the peaceful gloaming as 
 she passed beneath the cherry and walnut trees, 
 while the object of her dreams lingered in the 
 starlight among the old-fashioned flowers in his 
 mother's garden, with the dreams he himself had 
 dreamed cruelly shattered ; his loved one had 
 vanished. That hope which had cheered him 
 these long, weary years, had been swept away 
 like the cooling shadows of a friendly cloud on a 
 hot summer's day, and the pitiless rays of the 
 future held out no friendly shade wherein his 
 weary heart might find surcease from that pain 
 and longing for the Ruth Manley of the years 
 gone by, who had been banished into that dis- 
 tant land and now was married to another. 
 
 During the years that Ruth had been absent, 
 he had fondly dreamed of the day when she 
 would grace the little cottage as his bride. With 
 what care and tenderness had he planted the 
 clematis vine and trained its trailing branches 
 about the windows of the room whose interior, 
 dark with age, had, for the last five years, been 
 enriched each day with the choicest flowers the
 
 158 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 garden afforded. And during the winter time 
 the geraniums and oleanders vied in gorgeous 
 blooms of pink, red, and white, in remembrance 
 and fond expectation of the bride, who now, 
 alas, would never come. 
 
 What had he to live for now? "Whenever the 
 tints of the distant hills had cast a glamour o'er 
 the landscape the pleasure of its contemplation 
 had always been enhanced for him by the 
 thought that some day Kuth Manley would share 
 it with him. The grace of the clinging wisteria 
 vine about the latticed window had always 
 received its greatest charm from the thought that 
 some day its scented bloom would frame the love 
 of bis youthful years. The scented plumes of 
 the purple lilacs would now shed their fragrance 
 upon the desert air. The rose and the holly- 
 hock had lost their charm, and all the beauty of 
 the valley was but suggestive of what might have 
 been.
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 159 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE summer starlight shed its soft gloomy ray 
 o'er hill and valley. Among the old-fashioned 
 flowers of his mother's garden, with sore and 
 aching heart sat John von Malthaus. The hours 
 dragged wearily and slowly by. The purling 
 water in the little brook at the foot of the garden 
 moaned its ceaseless song. Its soft, dreamy 
 music spoke to him of the past, that past wherein 
 he had so patiently waited for the day when Euth 
 Manley would be his, a past that now seemed 
 dim and distant. His honest heart had been 
 dealt a stroke of pain that soft summer's evening 
 by the chattering gossip of Catharine From- 
 knecht. The future seemed joyless. Life for 
 him had lost its one great charm, one for whose 
 fulfillment he had longed for and waited in vain. 
 Euth Manley was married. 
 
 He paced the garden pathway slowly with 
 bowed head far into the night. Through its 
 isles of hollyhocks and its quaint box borders, 
 past flowering shrubs sorrowfully walked John 
 von Malthaus. At last he Bought for rest and
 
 160 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 peace within his chamber, but for once his pillow 
 failed to bring to his weary and tired eyes their 
 accustomed boon of refreshing slumber. His 
 bosom was filled with a nameless pain, one that 
 seemed to choke his very heart in its stifling 
 embrace. In his restlessness he sought the old 
 room wherein the geraniums and oleanders had 
 bloomed with him in fond expectancy, for the 
 bride that now, alas, was never to grace its quaint 
 portals. Its lavender-scented air only awakened 
 within him a host of fond memories. 
 
 Within that room, in its obscure corner, 
 wherein it had reposed, undisturbed, ever since 
 he could remember, stood the old black chest of 
 his dead and gone ancestor. "Whatever it had 
 within its keeping "was unknown to him. It 
 necessarily could also treasure but a past, one 
 perhaps in keeping with that which he was so 
 unsuccessfully striving to hide. Could he suc- 
 ceed in retaining its secret as well and as calmly 
 as did this old-fashioned receptacle? 
 
 Between John von Malthaus and this chest of 
 his forefather there seemed a vague bond of sym- 
 pathy at this particular moment. They both 
 treasured a past, as does each and every human 
 being. Within the depths of every bosom is 
 hidden some individual tragedy, some memory 
 that must ever be jealously guarded. Wrapped
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 161 
 
 in the rose and lavender odor of the past, are 
 hidden tender memories. Years may bring an 
 outward gloss whose dissembling cloak may suc- 
 cessfully hide from prying eyes the vistage of 
 dreams dreamed in the days of youth. Like 
 this brass studded chest, with its stiff and 
 formal, even forbidding appearance, do we walk 
 through the pathway of life and carry with us to 
 the end the remembrance of dreams that once 
 thrilled the heart. 
 
 John von Malthaus was seized with a desire to 
 explore the depths of this ancient hiding place 
 of his grandfather. He released the ^huge brass 
 clasps and with difficulty raised the lid whose 
 stiffened hinges seemed to vainly strive to keep 
 undisclosed the secret within. A faint pungent 
 odor of camphor and spice pervaded the room. 
 The summer moon had risen and streamed in a 
 great golden bar through the vine-wreathed 
 window and softly illumined the dim interior. 
 A thick silken cover was carefully folded over 
 the contents of the chest. Hands that long since 
 had crumbled into dust had jealously and care- 
 fully stowed away the treasures beneath. Un- 
 derneath this silken mantle was a violin case of 
 costly cedar-wood. "Within that glistening case 
 reposed the soulful treasure of his grandfather. 
 
 John von Malthaus had oftfcimes made the little
 
 162 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 cottage ring with gladsome sounds with his own 
 violin, a modern instrument that had been a 
 present from his father years ago. With the 
 moonlight's soft mantle falling upon him, he 
 paused to draw the bow across the strings of this 
 old-time treasure. As that trembling note 
 echoed across the dim old room, it seemed like a 
 human cry. Tenderly and softly he evoked a 
 strain whose very numbers expressed the feelings 
 with which his heart was filled to overflowing. 
 Within that old-time treasure-chest he dis- 
 covered a medium through whose channel his 
 thoughts and feelings could be expressed. In 
 the matchless song of this wondrous violin he 
 found consolation. Through its mystic strings 
 a language was afforded him whereby his heart 
 could speak its sorrow. 
 
 Within that chest were volumes beyond price 
 and value. In the days that followed John von 
 Malthaus was enraptured over those hidden treas- 
 ures of quaint and classic lore. With unspeak- 
 able delight he breathed those perfumes of 
 antiquity. Before him opened up a new life. 
 The child of the mountains with its youthful sor- 
 row had become fascinated by the wonders of 
 Nature as reported by Pliny, Thucydides, 
 Sallust, Livy, Csesar, Saltonius, Plutarch, and 
 Tacitus. What an insight into worldly affairs
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 163 
 
 was afforded him, while the poems of Hesiod, 
 Homer, and Pindar charmed and soothed his 
 aching heart. Within an old portfolio were 
 sheets of music, yellow with age ; among them 
 was the original score of Hans Sach's Hymn to 
 the Martyrs." It represented that forbidden 
 teaching to mankind which had been current in 
 the church for four centuries as a moonlight 
 time of wandering in the desert, but the night- 
 ingale proclaimed the dawn and soaring above 
 the morning mists sang the praise of day. In 
 an appended footnote to the score was written 
 in faded characters the fact that the hymn was 
 most typical of all human existence. In each and 
 every lifetime was a moonlight period of wander- 
 ing. There [were troubles and sorrows, but as 
 the nightingale, so must one soar above the 
 gloom, and by dint of individual effort and 
 achievement dispel the clouds. Tied in a cover 
 of parchment with the score of the "Hymn to the 
 Martyrs," John von Malthaus found a packet of 
 deeds to tracts of mining land in the distant 
 "West, along the cafions of the Colorado River. 
 There were maps and sketches, tables of analyses 
 and briefs setting forth the possibilities of that 
 then unknown and fabulously rich region. They 
 were the one-time instrument of a future that his 
 dead ancestor had hopefully planned. What
 
 164 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 vague possibilities did these treasures promise! 
 "Within an old volume, yellow with age, its author 
 discoursed upon the greatness of riches. Ac- 
 cording to this ancient seer, one need but 
 gather the wealth of the earth about one, and let 
 it be known that one had gold, then ask for 
 whatever one's fancy might crave it could surely 
 be attained. "Within this volume was declared 
 that gold and humanity, the flame and the moth 
 were terms surely synonymous. Did not Vorti- 
 ger, King of Britain, marry Rowena, the daugh- 
 ter of Hengist, the Saxon prince, his mortal 
 enemy, and only because she had Kent for her 
 dowry ? Jagello, the great Duke of Lithuania, in 
 the distant ages, had pretended to be greatly 
 enamored of Hedenga, insomuch that he turned 
 Christian from Pagan and had been baptized 
 himself, and all his subjects, for her sake and 
 favor, because she was the daughter and heir of 
 Poland. 
 
 The love of his youth had forsaken him, but 
 he would waste no time in idle lamentation. 
 Ay, he would seek diligently for the acquisition 
 of wealth. Yes, he would seek for that gold 
 with which humanity was enamored, and in its 
 seeking win the sweet boon of remembrance's 
 oblivion, for did not this precious volume declare 
 that once the love of gain quickened one's life-
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 165 
 
 blood, its supremacy would not long be gain- 
 said by the remembrance of one's youthful 
 dreams. 
 
 Away then in the distant West, beneath those 
 everlasting hills, underneath those inspiring fast- 
 nesses far from the peaceful vale of his childhood 
 was the scene wherein surcease to his sorrow was 
 at last to be attained. In those untraveled 
 regions, amid hardships and toil must be pursued 
 the phantom of forgetf ulness. Underneath those 
 snow-capped mountains was the key by which 
 the future was to open the portals of those gates 
 beyond whose confines was to be attained the 
 rest and peace so grateful even in its anticipa- 
 tion, that rest and peace whose gracious tender- 
 ness was foreshadowed, it seemed, by the restful 
 soft summer twilight, which shed its quieting 
 influence over him this very moment, when he 
 had concluded to strive for wealth and forgetful- 
 ness. Absence from the valley must needs bring 
 forgetfulness, since how quickly had Kuth Man- 
 ley forgotten those tender promises. 
 
 And so it was that one soft summer night as 
 the moon rose from beyond the lofty hills, it 
 cast its soft golden beams in tender, translucent 
 bars through the whispering trees athwart the 
 musician's castle; it tenderly transformed that 
 weather-stained and lichen-covered pile into a
 
 166 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 dream of poetic beauty. From within the valley 
 at the foot of the mountain upon whose brow 
 rose the towers and turrets of the erstwhile 
 dreary pile, there came soft and shadowy, the 
 song of the Nippanose River, leaping from moss- 
 covered bowlders into clear glassy pools, n6w 
 rushing and fretting over rocks and pebbles, 
 then again flowing silently and serenely in dark- 
 green eddies, beneath the overhanging wild 
 grapevines, and pine and hemlock trees. From 
 away in the distance in soft and subdued mur- 
 murs, came the drowsy and dream-laden whis- 
 pers of the lazily rolling Susquehanna. The 
 hemlock and the pine were outlined in masses of 
 soft golden gray in the moonlight night, as John 
 von Malthaus paused by the castle with the 
 Stradivarius violin of his grandfather beneath 
 his arm. He was on his way to that land of gold 
 in the distant West. He paused and gazed within 
 the valley. Away in the distance in soft and 
 dreamy outlines stretched the towering hills of 
 the Alleghenies until their summits were lost in 
 a misty haze. Within the valley he knew fields 
 of fast-ripening grain tossed and rippled in the 
 summer night wind in waves of golden plenty. 
 Faintly he could trace the Nippanose Eiver bor- 
 dered along its crooked way with rows of willow 
 and chestnut trees, meandering from upland to
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 167 
 
 upland, through the meadows and fields of bil- 
 lowy grain : 
 
 " With summer's hourly mellowing change, 
 Perfumed with many roses sweet, 
 Upon the thousand waves of wheat, 
 That ripple round the lonely grange." 
 
 He recognized the various farms and meadows 
 spread out before him in the moonlight where 
 his footstep had wandered in the days gone by, 
 while he had been free from care and happy. 
 The little village by the distant Susquehanna lay 
 pale and ghostly in the margin of its intervale, 
 and the little cottage wherein he had left his 
 mother sobbing was also readily distinguished, 
 nestling amid its group of apple trees and fields 
 of golden grain; while afar by the silvery 
 waters of the Susquehanna, among its cluster of 
 walnut trees, lay the Endicott farmhouse tran- 
 quilly beautiful. He would bid farewell to the 
 valley and youth-time by the musician's castle 
 in a Stradivarian song. Through its enchanting 
 numbers would he express a tender farewell. 
 With his cheek pressed upon the soulful instru- 
 ment, his eyes full of tears, there arose about 
 the castle softly and tenderly, like the faint spring 
 melody among the pines, a silvery thread of 
 music, tenderly and divinely exquisite its cadence
 
 168 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 rose, higher and higher, until it throbbed and 
 pulsated and voiced the pain and sorrow with 
 which John von Malthaus' heart was full to over- 
 flowing. Like the song of the nightingale in 
 the moonlight, did this wondrous music rise 
 and fall about him as he said farewell to all that 
 his heart held dear in an enchanting song of 
 undying beauty and surpassing grace, and which 
 died away in trembling echoes among the pines 
 that drowsily sang a soft refrain until the morn- 
 ing sunlight again gilded hill and valley, while 
 John von Malthaus was known unto its sylvan 
 shades no more. 
 
 Tears after, in the wild, rough mining camp 
 among the rugged fastnesses of Colorado, when 
 the day of toil was over, there was often heard 
 enchanting music. A miner with a Stradivarius 
 violin, soothed and softened the rough and un- 
 couth ^hearts about him. At night in the star- 
 light, when naught broke the stillness of that 
 vast wilderness, when the rugged toilers silently 
 sat by their cabins smoking their pipes, their 
 hardened bosoms were stirred and filled with 
 memories of home and friends by those enchant- 
 ing melodies. Whenever death claimed its own 
 among that adventurous band, above the grave 
 wherein rude hands had tenderly laid a compan- 
 ion in toil, there rose a Stradivarian requiem of
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 169 
 
 matchless grace. That uncouth miner with his 
 Stradivarius kept alive that which was best and 
 noble in many a rugged breast while he toiled 
 and strove for gold and the forgetfulness of his 
 youthful love, and so the years passed by.
 
 170 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 MBS. JONATHAN LAWRENCE and her daughter 
 Margaret, within the dining room of their Wal- 
 nut Street mansion in Philadelphia, one evening 
 in October, just upon their return to town after 
 spending the summer at the Stockton Hotel at 
 Cape May, had a very spirited and animated 
 conversation while waiting for the coffee to be 
 served ; whenever the servant disappeared within 
 the pantry the conversational tone rose with a 
 rising inflection, which would instantly subside 
 the moment the servitor reappeared. Mrs. 
 Lawrence was speaking to her daughter for the 
 hundredth time of the importance, nay, the 
 necessity of winning a rich husband, and she 
 took no pains to disguise her great disappoint- 
 ment at the opportunities her daughter had 
 wasted during the several months they had been 
 at Cape May, a visit which had been purposely 
 planned, and for which humiliating sacrifices had 
 been made to enable them to appear out of town, 
 a sacrifice which had entailed the almost entire 
 depletion of the family silver chest, not to men-
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. l?i 
 
 tion the paintings that had graced the walls of 
 the drawing room. Upon their return they 
 found themselves in a far worse position than ere 
 they had gone away. In short, the entire scheme 
 had been a failure, and Mrs. Lawrence took es- 
 pecial pains to impress upon her daughter the fact 
 that had that young lady properly exerted herself, 
 she might have been engaged to Evander Powers, 
 a wealthy New Yorker, who had been most atten- 
 tive to them all summer, and who needed but 
 the slightest encouragement to have called forth 
 a declaration of love and offer of marriage. 
 "While he was a widower bald and sere, with- a 
 very cracked voice, still the man had money, and 
 his entrance into the family would have brought 
 that relief for which she nightly prayed, that 
 relief from anxiety whose existence was surely 
 driving her to desperation. Had her daughter 
 but encouraged Evander Powers a trifle, she felt 
 certain that a haven would have been reached ; as 
 it was they were drifting more hopelessly than 
 ever toward the rocks of destruction which 
 loomed before them, and entire obliteration and 
 final oblivion by finding themselves buried 
 within that hateful little country town in South- 
 ern New Jersey. Mrs. Lawrence was almost mad- 
 dened by her daughter's sentimental ideas as 
 regarded marriage, as she thought of the family
 
 172 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 exchequer, which -was being diminished day by 
 day, and her only hope was that her daughter 
 might wed a man of wealth, and thus afford 
 relief to her overwrought nerves, which were 
 drawn to a tension that she feared would cause 
 them to snap some day from sheer despair. 
 With the family treasury reimbursed by the 
 wealth of Evander Powers, which she understood 
 was quite ample life for her would once more 
 have assumed its roseate hue. 
 
 The Lawrences came originally from Maple- 
 dale, a small hamlet in New Jersey. Mr. Law- 
 rence had embarked in a mercantile venture in 
 the Quaker City and had prospered. Upon his 
 death, however, the estate was subjected to con- 
 siderable litigation, owing to a rather compli- 
 cated partnership, and after the lawyers had 
 enriched their coffers but a remnant remained 
 for the wife and daughter, who watched their 
 resources dwindling day by day in very despair. 
 Mrs. Lawrence was a woman of ambition. From 
 an obscure position she had risen, ever urging 
 her husband on. Mr. Lawrence would have 
 been content to have passed his days in his 
 native village in peace and quiet had his wife 
 Henrietta so willed it ; but with her ambitious 
 spirit and instigation ever egging him on, he 
 had amassed quite a considerable fortune, and
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 173 
 
 died amid the bustle and rush of a great city, 
 while it is reasonably sure that had he been per- 
 mitted to dwell within the peaceful shades of 
 Mapledale, for whose quiet he was always silently 
 homesick, he would have lived a great many 
 years longer; as it was, he died amid the excite- 
 ment and rush of a busy world, wherein he had 
 been but a puppet, meekly doing the bidding of 
 his wife. 
 
 Before Mr. Lawrence's death, while they were 
 seemingly prosperous, Mrs. Lawrence walked 
 with a queenly air; Mapledale and its humble 
 environment was forgotten, and everyone in it as 
 well; to her it had been but a stepping stone; 
 now that they had reached the shores of prosper- 
 ity, that eminence for which she had longed 
 since the days of her girlhood, what need to 
 glance back and note one's early efforts with 
 their attendant humiliation? Success had been 
 achieved, and Mrs. Lawrence had majestically 
 walked in its sunshine. 
 
 The snubbings endured by the relatives of the 
 departed Mr. Lawrence would have filled volumes. 
 To be obliged to return to the quiet shades of 
 Mapledale, moneyless and discouraged, meant 
 madness to her, and her one and only hope had 
 been and was, that her daughter might wed a 
 man of wealth; this remained the only means of
 
 174 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 escape and salvation from the galling inevitable. 
 It had been for this that the silver, with "which 
 she had lavishly provided herself in the days of 
 prosperity, had been sacrificed in order to enable 
 them to spend the summer at the Stockton Hotel; 
 and upon her return to her depleted treasure- 
 house, whose walls had been ingloriously 
 stripped of their somewhat gorgeous display of 
 huge gilt frames and glittering canvasses, she 
 was not disposed to be lenient with her daugh- 
 ter for having passed the summer without even 
 taking the elementary steps toward the realiza- 
 tion of her hopes in the way of a desirable ac- 
 quaintance, which eventually might have led to 
 that much-prayed-for goal an alliance with some 
 family of wealth. 
 
 The only fragment of consolation left her by 
 the depletion of her mansion was the fact that 
 the paintings which had graced the drawing- 
 room were gone and out of sight, for about these 
 pictures there had clustered a remembrance 
 which Henrietta Lawrence was loath to recall. 
 
 The means which she had found at her com- 
 mand after the death of her husband, while not 
 very great, had been ample to have maintained 
 herself and daughter in comfortable circum- 
 stances for the remainder of their lives had Mrs. 
 Lawrence's indomitable spirit and ambition not
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 175 
 
 craved for other worlds to conquer, now that 
 Jonathan Lawrence was gone. To secure 
 an entrance into that realm known as "society" 
 was her great desire and ambition, a desire 
 which completely gained the better of her 
 judgment and discretion; it was but that inher- 
 ent dream so dear to the feminine heart, a dream 
 which irresistibly and ever longs for social con- 
 quest. Mrs. Lawrence had observed that an 
 entrance was frequently effected into that 
 charmed, and as she fondly imagined, exalted 
 circle, by those who, although comparatively 
 poor from a financial standpoint, paved their 
 way and welcome into the magic circle through 
 the possession of extended knowledge pertaining 
 to the various arts and sciences, and whose addi- 
 tion to the exclusive set she noted was kindly 
 and sometimes warmly received, for the reason 
 that they were rich in the possession of culture 
 and brains, rather than that of material wealth. 
 Through the latter she felt her case was hope- 
 less, it was quite evident to her that her worldly 
 wealth could never secure the thrice-desired 
 haven, but why not through some branch of art 
 wherein she would make herself thoroughly a 
 master and authority? She had long ago con- 
 cluded there were but two avenues whereby that 
 much-coveted and greatly desired goal was to be
 
 176 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 attained, either through the more elegant path 
 of culture or the golden lane of unlimited means. 
 Henceforth she must be looked upon as author- 
 ity within some of the cultured and artistic 
 spheres. It mattered little upon what subject or 
 line her ambitious spirit would find the means of 
 appeasing its insatiable longing, but a connoisseur 
 she must be. She thought of books as a medium 
 wherewith to unlock those gates through whose 
 rose-colored portals she hopefully dreamed to 
 pass some day, but upon reflection she wisely 
 concluded that literature required entirely too 
 much study and the occupation of one's limited 
 time. As for those ancient classics, she never 
 could endure them, in fact, she did not umder- 
 stand them, and to be obliged to keep in touch 
 with the world of letters she concluded would be 
 a monumental undertaking, one before which 
 even her eager and ambitious spirit quailed. 
 The trouble was there was such a wilderness of 
 books and subjects, and that which hopelessly 
 complicated matters was the fact that each and 
 every day witnessed innumerable additions to an 
 already perfect labyrinth of tomes. To be ex- 
 pected to possess an intimate knowledge of 
 countless subjects would surely be a life work, 
 and the mere endeavor to absorb this constantly 
 increasing and inexhaustible Niagara of knowl-
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 1?7 
 
 edge, she was certain would simply result in 
 prematurely aging her. After some study Mrs. 
 Lawrence decided that she would be a collector 
 of paintings, rugs and the rarest of china. Ay, 
 she would be conversant with Art in all its 
 phases; Henrietta Lawrence would be authority 
 upon its infinite subjects, subjects which she 
 anticipated would be interesting in the extreme. 
 The subtle intricacies and mysteries of architec- 
 ture and the sciences must henceforth be thor- 
 oughly mastered and in their subduing a sesame 
 would be secured to the realization of an ambition 
 for which she earnestly longed and praj-ed. She 
 must be able to disinguish the Renaissance from 
 the Gothic, the Saracenic from the Norman, nay, 
 she must be able to distinguish the points of 
 a Corinthian column and the perfectness of an 
 architrave with all the facility and ease of a 
 master. She would be a distinguished art critic, 
 one whose opinion and expression would be 
 eagerly sought by that select coterie. She would 
 be a connoisseur of that exquisite stamp known 
 as the collector of china, able to tell at a glance 
 where the cup from which she was drinking her 
 tea had been made without turning the saucer 
 upside down, and even then probably fail to 
 recognize the hieroglyphics on the back. She 
 would know at a glance all the family of laces,
 
 178 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 real Duchesse and the rare Mechlin, the gauzy 
 fabrics and gossamery films from Castled Spain 
 would henceforth be an open book to her. 
 
 Henrietta Lawrence would be known as the 
 great connoisseur, and in this prestige and dis- 
 tinction she would pave her way within that 
 exclusive circle wherein she fain would linger 
 and proudly reign. 
 
 She had concluded to begin this campaign of 
 gentility by making herself the possessor of pic- 
 tures and paintings, an acquisition which was to 
 be but a stepping-stone to far greater things. 
 The conclusion thus arrived at through the igno- 
 rance of the means requisite to the formation of 
 such a collection, was the direct result of her 
 ultimate ruin. Mrs. Lawrence had bravely 
 rushed in where angels would surely have timidly 
 hesitated. With grim and undaunted determi- 
 nation she undertook the accomplishment of her 
 object through a medium whose financial require- 
 ments she never even faintly imagined. 
 
 In her travels to and fro, she had time and 
 again noticed, in the windows of a small, dingy 
 shop upon one of the side streets, paintings 
 whose appearance attracted her attention, and 
 the little pasteboard cards which invariably 
 adorned one of the lower corners of the gilt 
 frames whereon was neatly marked the sum at
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 179 
 
 which the different works could be obtained, 
 seemed to her remarkably low. To her one pic- 
 ture appeared as good as another, there might be 
 a slight difference in the shades, but then a pic- 
 ture was a picture, portraying some sentiment or 
 scene, and she saw no reason why she should not 
 enter this remote shop and see what was offering 
 in the way of bargains, and thus save money by 
 avoiding the galleries located upon the more 
 prominent thoroughfares. 
 
 Moses Isaacstein had been delighted to see 
 her, he went into raptures over his pictures, all 
 masterpieces, madam, each and every one, works 
 that grew more valuable with each passing hour, 
 and whose ultimate value would be simply price- 
 less; as an investment incomparable. Here, for 
 instance, was a landscape by a member of the 
 Eoyal Academy, none other than a relative of 
 the famous Landseer who was now in the city, 
 and, sad to relate, in straitened circumstances. 
 Mr. Isaacstein's permission had been begged to 
 leave the much-coveted and already almost price- 
 less canvas with him as collateral for a small loan. 
 The time wherein its redemption was to have 
 been effected had long since transpired, he was a 
 poor man unable to maintain the cost of insurance 
 which so eminent a work justified, in fact, de- 
 manded, and if the gracious madam would con-
 
 180 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 aider the proposition of purchasing the work by 
 repaying the sum advanced, this as yet little 
 appreciated genius, with a little interest added, 
 the necessity of a working capital would compel 
 Mr. Isaacstein to accept it. 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence had been delighted ; here was 
 surely an opportunity, and with a feeling of self- 
 congratulation the wonderful landscape was se- 
 cured. She had left word with Mr. Isaacstein 
 that if he should learn of other artists with mas- 
 terpieces upon which loans might be desired, 
 she would always be willing to assist embryonic 
 genius. It would be the very thing, eventually 
 it would become known, of course, that Mrs. 
 Lawrence was the possessor of a priceless collec- 
 tion of paintings, the preceptor and helpful 
 angel of struggling genius, and a great connois- 
 seur into the bargain. Success would thus be 
 assured. 
 
 The result of this visit to Mr. Isaacstein, how- 
 ever, revealed to Mrs. Lawrence a deplorable and 
 distressing state of affairs in the colony of ambi- 
 tious and struggling artists. Not a day passed 
 but Mr. Isaacstein was called upon by his im- 
 pecunious artist friends to secure advances upon 
 various works of the old masters; pictures that 
 had been the object of adoration, and that had 
 been jealously guarded, but sheer necessity at
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 181 
 
 last compelled their surrender as collateral for a 
 paltry loan, works that would surely have 
 brought fabulous prices if publicly disposed of, 
 and whose redemption would surely be effected 
 the moment dame fortune ceased to frown. As a 
 consequence, upon her drawing-room walls there 
 hung reputed landscapes by Kosetti, there were 
 sunsets by Turner, frowning portraits by Van 
 Dyke, galore. Salvator Kosa was represented 
 by a priceless panel; there were still-life 
 paintings by Eeynolds, and portraits of the 
 English aristocracy by Gainsborough; while, 
 incredible as it may seem, above the mantel 
 there dimly shone none other than a magnificent 
 specimen of the divine Kaphael. In fact, the 
 old masters were delivered so rapidly that Mrs. 
 Lawrence had actually been obliged to call a halt, 
 for she was being literally swamped and sur- 
 feited, as it were, with their choicest specimens, 
 works that Mr. Isaacstein's friends had carried 
 with them through many lands. Mrs. Lawrence 
 could not help but fancy what an easy matter it 
 really was to obtain an object if one only went 
 about it in the right way, and a little tact were 
 used. Here was she with the old masters flowing 
 in upon her for a mere song, one might say, and 
 from a source despised and frowned upon by 
 those deluded persons who foolishly imagined
 
 182 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 nothing worth while was to be obtained in the 
 shops bordering upon the byways. But when 
 she realized what an inroad she had made into 
 her resources, she almost fainted as she noted 
 that nearly her entire fortune had quietly passed 
 into the hands of the affable Mr. Isaacstein and 
 his very numerous impecunious artist friends. 
 Her means were now represented by a motley col- 
 lection of works of art, a collection which would 
 surely cause her to be envied once its existence 
 became known, which could be but a matter of 
 time. She had been unable to obtain a single 
 antique in the way of china or rugs for the rea- 
 son that struggling genius seemed to have an 
 exceedingly difficult path to travel at just this 
 particular period, as was evidenced by the de- 
 mands made upon her agent for loans; but what 
 a perfect mine this Mr. Isaacstein had been to 
 her! Why, she actually felt as though she had 
 discovered him with all his treasures. 
 
 After noting the condition of her bank account 
 she had decided that several paintings at least 
 would have to be returned, no matter how much 
 their former owners needed the money, which 
 had caused the fortunate sacrifice. Mrs. Law- 
 rence had been dumfounded to learn that the 
 sign "To Let" was now displayed within the 
 window of the shop wherein the friend of the
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 183 
 
 struggling artist had so graciously held forth, 
 and his whereabouts seemed a deep and un- 
 fathomable mystery. An attempt to dispose of 
 one of these old masters resulted in a deplorable 
 and pathetic discovery, a discovery that caused 
 Mrs. Lawrence to lose the very last vestige of 
 faith in human nature, for upon the removal of 
 the canvas from its gorgeously gilded frame, it 
 was found that the priceless Raphael was not yet 
 entirely dry along the edges which had been 
 hidden underneath the frame. In short, Mrs. 
 Lawrence awoke to the realization that she had 
 been most cruelly, humiliatingly and mercilessly 
 swindled. Instead of having discovered Mr. 
 Isaacstein, that urbane and profuse individual 
 had in reality discovered Mrs. Lawrence. Her 
 money was gone and but one resource remained, 
 but one way to escape the final and inevitable 
 return to Mapledale, and that was the marriage 
 of her daughter to a man of wealth. 
 """While at the Stockton Hotel, Margaret Law- 
 rence had timidly shrunk from making acquaint- 
 ances, and was reserved and cool toward those 
 who were thrust upon her by her mother, among 
 whom was Evander Powers. "You are entirely 
 too much like your father," Mrs. Lawrence cried, 
 as the maid disappeared within the pantry; 
 "you must be pushed, as it were, into evidence,
 
 184 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 you do not seem to be possessed of a single iota 
 of ambition. Do you not realize that unless you 
 marry a man of wealth, we will be obliged to 
 return to that hateful country town to be pitied 
 and laughed at?" 
 
 "Mother, how can you speak so?" the daugh- 
 ter replied. "It is impossible for me to marry 
 until I am asked. I cannot propose. As for 
 that old widower in his dotage, I hate him. If 
 his advent into the family is so essential to our 
 future happiness, why in the name of appropri- 
 ateness, did you not secure him for yourself, 
 since his non-advent appears to be such a 
 catastrophe?" 
 
 "Margaret, how dare you thus address your 
 mother?" Just then the maid appeared with 
 the coffee, and the two women finished their din- 
 ner in silence. Upon its conclusion, as Margaret 
 Lawrence was leaving for her room, she ap- 
 proached her mother and held out her hands and 
 begged her forgiveness. 
 
 "Mother," she said, with tears in her voice, 
 "forgive me if I have been rude. I know that I 
 should try and please you, but heaven knows 
 that unless some one proposes to me, it is im- 
 possible for me to marry. I shall try so hard to 
 please you, believe me. I, myself, am weary of 
 this wretched existence, this daily dread and
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 185 
 
 fear, this constant scheming and these humiliat- 
 ing sacrifices. I will iry so hard from now on to 
 make you happy, but if possible, mother, I would 
 so love to marry a man nearer my own age. Just 
 imagine what misery would be mine were I to 
 marry a man old enough to be my grandfather. 
 Not a solitary congenial thought, not a single 
 sympathetic moment would be mine. Neverthe- 
 less, if in doing so I can once more make you 
 happy, I will do it, for I shall surely go mad if 
 we continue this miserable way of living much 
 longer, this empty and weary existence, this 
 existence of pretense and scheming. Send for 
 Mr. Powers and if he will have me, and by mar- 
 rying him I can please you, consider that I am 
 your daughter whose only endeavor henceforth 
 shall be to obey," and as she bowed her head and 
 kissed her mother good-night, the tears were 
 rapidly coursing down her cheeks. But the 
 daughter's greeting was not returned. 
 
 After her departure Mrs. Lawrence sat in 
 silence with her face deathly pale, but still deter- 
 mined; she sought the evening paper wherein to 
 seek relief from her mad and miserable thoughts, 
 and as she scanned its columns rapidly and 
 eagerly, her eye caught a paragraph under the 
 head of hotel arrivals that caused her to sit up 
 straight within her chair, and with a beating
 
 186 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 heart she read the announcement of the arrival at 
 the Hotel Remarque of "Mr. John von Malt- 
 haus," who was known as the "Colorado Gold 
 King," he having amassed a princely fortune in 
 the far West. It was Mr. von Malthaus' inten- 
 tion to pass the coming winter at the Eemarque. 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence rose and turned t the gas down 
 low, and within the subdued light, seated by the 
 fireplace, with her face buried in her hands, she 
 wrestled with a mighty problem. The clock in 
 the hallway sweetly chimed hour after hour, but 
 Mrs. Lawrence sat immovable, buried in thought. 
 At the close of her vigil she brought forth pen and 
 paper from her writing desk, and ere she sought 
 her chamber she safely deposited the missive 
 which she had penned wiohin the mail-box on 
 the opposite corner of the street. 
 
 Dawn found Mrs. Lawrence pacing up and 
 down her chamber, sleepless and nervous, watch- 
 ing the morning break above the roofs and 
 steeples. As she paced the length of her room 
 she prayed and hoped that Fate for once might 
 befriend her in this her last effort, as it were, 
 for the retention of a life and position which to 
 her was her whole existence. A return to the 
 life of her girlhood, to face those whom she had 
 cruelly snubbed during the years of her apparent 
 prosperity, was as wormwood and ashes. Nay,
 
 DR. POFFENBURGER'S CHARM. 187 
 
 rather than return and resume that humdrum 
 existence in Mapledale, her weary heart would 
 find rest in the cool embrace of the swiit-rushing 
 river, yes, she would die rather than return 
 thereto; should this letter which she had penned 
 this night fail her, it meant death and an end 
 forever ; but should it be willed that her prayer 
 be answered, life and happiness would be here 
 once more.
 
 188 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 JOHN VON MALTHAUS, ESQ., upon the morning 
 succeeding the vigil of Mrs. Lawrence, was sur- 
 prised to find that he was the recipient of a mail 
 freighted with curious letters. There were ad- 
 vertisements of patent medicines, testimonials as 
 to the various virtues of hair dyes, solicitations 
 to graciously condescend to examine matchless 
 collections of almost everything under the sun. 
 There were cries of famine ; distress was mingled 
 with the offers of enterprising merchants. There 
 were appeals to power and influence; autograph 
 quests; while the religious crank's invective 
 shrieked its discordant note through the laby- 
 rinth before him. 
 
 One of these letters was a most important look- 
 ing document, and attracted his attention in 
 particular. Within the left-hand corner of its 
 broad square surface was emblazoned the crest 
 of a royal house surmounted by the legend "By 
 appointment to his Highness, the Prince of 
 Wales." He broke the seal of this royal favor 
 with some hesitation, and was surprised and
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 189 
 
 amused to learn that the Messrs. Draper & Fitter 
 (formerly with Poole in London), had just com- 
 pleted their unsurpassed and unapproachable 
 
 stock of imported . He tossed it aside and 
 
 turned his attention to another of these letters, 
 one with a trim and business-like air, its exterior 
 perfectly plain, whose import was to the effect 
 that the Dazzle Bros, had been so fortunate 
 (thanks to their remarkable foresight) as to have 
 imported ere the revised schedule of tariff had 
 gone into effect, gems from the Orient, diamonds 
 from Africa, rubies from South America, and 
 opals from Mexico. The stock was simply 
 superb; and might not a representative call and 
 wait upon ? it also was tossed aside, and as 
 he opened letter after letter he was pleased to 
 know what an interest was taken in himself by 
 these enterprising merchants, who were eager, 
 nay, begged the honor and pleasure]to serve him. 
 He was pleased at this attention, as he reflected 
 what a power this was with which his wealth had 
 endowed him. With a wave of the hand he could 
 summon before him these servile barterers, who 
 were dying with eagerness to exchange their 
 wares for a stipend of his gold. Thus far the 
 prophecy held out by that ancient volume had 
 been verily fulfilled. But could he summon unto 
 him, by the aid of this magic wand, that pearl
 
 190 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 of his youth whose remembrance was enshrined 
 within the depths of his heart? Forgetfulness 
 had not been among the rewards attained in that 
 distant land. Kuth Manley was dearer to him 
 than ever. "Without her his wealth and power 
 would be but a mockery. Thus he mused until 
 the very last communication was opened, which, 
 however, did not amuse John von Malthaus, Esq., 
 as much as it surprised him, and which read as 
 follows : 
 
 Walnut Street, 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 "JOHN VON MALTHAUS, ESQ. 
 
 "The Hotel Remarque. 
 
 "The evening paper of this date chronicles your 
 arrival at the Remarque, and likewise states that 
 you have just returned from a mining expedition 
 in the West. The writer, Mrs. Jonathan Law- 
 rence, has among her papers the deed to a silver 
 mine in Colorado, the seat, as she understands it, 
 of your operations. Since her husband's death 
 the Lawrence estate has been subjected to much 
 litigation, and it seems an impossibility to obtain 
 a thorough understanding as to the value of this 
 Colorado property. Should the matter be en- 
 trusted to the hands of the lawyers, who are 
 taking every advantage of a woman whose knowl- 
 edge of business affairs was meager, there is 
 little doubt as to the result, should it be found 
 that the claim possess a commercial value. I 
 have presumed in addressing you a liberty for
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 191 
 
 which I most humbly crave your pardon and in- 
 dulgence. Actuated, however, as I am by a 
 desire of self-preservation, as it were. With 
 your knowledge acquired from actual mining ex- 
 perience in the region where this property is 
 located, you undoubtedly could advise the true 
 status of affairs, and if at your leisure, without 
 any inconvenience, an interview could be 
 granted, you would do a kindness whose appre- 
 ciation cannot readily be expressed. 
 
 "With the hope that the writer has succeeded 
 in making herself perfectly clear and understood, 
 and that Mr. von Malthaus may be able to see his 
 way clear to aid a much worried woman by the 
 expression of his valued opinion after an exami- 
 nation of the deed referred to, the writer begs to 
 remain, 
 
 "Most respectfully, 
 
 HENRIETTA LAWRENCE." 
 
 Mr. von Malthaus finished his breakfast with 
 this letter before him. In the years that he had 
 been absent from his native valley, he had learned 
 that matters worldly were not just exactly what 
 they would seem ; he had learned that beneath 
 a smile there sometimes lurked a poison ; that 
 the kindest hearts were sometimes hid beneath 
 the most rugged and uncouth exteriors, and that 
 the wiles and guiles of a wicked world were end- 
 less. At the conclusion of his breakfast he sum- 
 moned the proprietor of the Remarque to him
 
 192 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 and asked him to kindly have ascertained in the 
 directory the address of a Mrs. Jonathan Law- 
 rence or Henrietta Lawrence. The information 
 was speedily brought to him, and the address 
 corresponded with that given by the writer of 
 the letter before him. The proprietor of the 
 Remarque also voluntarily vouchsafed the in- 
 formation that the Lawrence family was a highly 
 respectable and somewhat well-known one. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Lawrence not infrequently dined at 
 the Remarque ; but since the death of Mr. Law- 
 rence he had seen but little of them, and it was 
 surmised that the family which now consisted of 
 the widow and daughter, remained aloof from 
 the world mourning their loss in seclusion and 
 retirement. They were, indeed most excellent 
 people and but Mr. von Malthaus interrupted 
 the flow of information by requesting him to have 
 the goodness to order his carriage for two o'clock 
 that day, which would oblige him. "While Mrs. 
 Lawrence's letter seemed just a trifle bold, at the 
 same time he would infer that her lawyers were 
 feasting vulture-like upon an estate whose head 
 and master was gone, and in sheer desperation 
 the woman had turned to him, an entire stranger 
 for an opinion on her mining property, which he 
 was obliged to admit, naturally, would be con- 
 sidered highly for the reason that the papers
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 193 
 
 stated that he had just returned from that region, 
 and consequently would be in an excellent posi- 
 tion to vouchsafe information whose attainment 
 through her lawyers would naturally be tedious 
 and without a doubt expensive. There seemed 
 no reason why he should not call on this Mrs. 
 Lawrence, and if there was anything that he 
 could make clear or any aid he could give this 
 woman in arriving at a knowledge of the actual 
 value of her mining property, why it was no more 
 than his duty. He was also interested and actu- 
 ated by another motive. Numberless \\~estern 
 mining claims, as he knew only too well, were 
 sold to Eastern capitalists by people who had not 
 a single right to the properties disposed of, yet 
 they succeeded in obtaining fabulous figures, 
 sometimes selling a single claim to as many 
 people as they succeeded in duping. This 
 naturally resulted in a series of lawsuits, ruinous 
 in many cases, and the fact that his interests in 
 that region were vast, made it rather interesting 
 to have an opportunity of examining this deed 
 about which there seemed to be some uncertainty 
 as to its legal status. He could call upon the 
 writer of this letter, and it was just possible that 
 the call might redound to mutual advantage.
 
 194 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HENKIETTA LAWKEKTCE watched for the postman 
 the following day with an eager and expectant 
 heart. As the sailor who drifts toward the rocks 
 scans the horizon with a hope born of despair, so 
 did Mrs. Lawrence hope and pray that this 
 multi-millionaire might heed her letter and grant 
 a gracious interview. Like the spider who had 
 invited the fly to walk within his parlor, she sat 
 and waited in fear and in trepidation. She could 
 only hope that word might be received that he 
 would see her at the Remarque, and when that 
 afternoon the maid came to her with a gentle- 
 man's card, upon whose bristol surface, in neat 
 and tasteful script appeared the name of Mr. 
 John Elias von Malthaus, Mrs. Lawrence almost 
 fainted from excitement and joy. Was it possi- 
 ble, could it be that this rich man from the 
 golden West was now awaiting her within the 
 depleted drawing-room of her house at this very 
 moment? Oh, that she might lock the door and 
 keep him, ay, keep and hold him by fair means 
 or foul. What a godsend after all was that
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 195 
 
 Colorado investment made by her husband, the 
 only sensible thing he had every accomplished 
 unaided and alone. He unwittingly, it seemed, 
 had accomplished something -worth while in 
 acquiring the Eainbow Mine in Colorado; and 
 while the title to the property was subsequently 
 proven to be utterly worthless, who could say 
 that such should be the case after all, if her pres- 
 ent plan and scheme be successful? By seeming 
 ignorant of its spurious nature, should she by 
 this pretension secure this modern Croesus for a 
 son-in-law? "Who would dare to say that this 
 parchment was only available for lighting the 
 parlor fire? She rushed to seek her daughter 
 Margaret, who was hastily arrayed in her most 
 neatest fitting gown in such a rushing, hurriedly 
 and excited toilet as women seldom make. After 
 the last touch of powder had been deftly applied, 
 and the last stray ringlet carefully fixed in place, 
 mother and daughter descended the stairway, 
 the mother arrayed in a somber black costume, 
 and the daughter in a soft, clinging gray material 
 which hung in graceful folds about her, and 
 showed to advantage the sweeping lines of her 
 figure. Slowly and majestically they moved 
 adown that stairway, the master leading the fair 
 slave to market, taking the initial steps toward 
 an effort at consummating a marriage by which
 
 196 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 the mother sought to save herself from a life 
 which to her meant death and absolute oblitera- 
 tion. Like the hunter, she had tracked her prey 
 and succeeded in luring it to her, but could it be 
 secured for her own with an equal ease? Was it 
 not proper that her daughter should make this 
 sacrifice if such one chose to term it? It had 
 been proper that her husband had died in her 
 service, as it were, doing her bidding, thereby 
 securing for them that advancement which to 
 her seemed as essential as the very air itself. 
 "Why should the daughter not emulate the father 
 by furthering her own interests and save the 
 house of Lawrence from the degradation of a 
 fallen estate? It was but doing right by the 
 child to see that she married well; and to her 
 way of thinking no marriage was well did its 
 consummation not add to the family exchequer. 
 Young people never did know their own minds, 
 and her daughter might be thankful that she had 
 so able a preceptor to direct and guide her hesi- 
 tating, faltering footsteps at this critical moment. 
 They must use all their wiles and blandishments 
 upon this crusty millionaire who undoubtedly 
 was possessed of a great deal more wealth than 
 brains; they must secure him at any cost, and 
 once secured, his personality would be quickly 
 regulated into obscurity, and as effectually ex-
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 197 
 
 tinguished as had been that of Jonathan Law- 
 rence, \vhile his gold would provide that means 
 of display and glitter which to her was all that 
 life held dear, and the only thing for which life 
 seemed worth the living. To snub those cousins 
 of Mapledale had become her crowning ambi- 
 tion, and once her daughter was Mrs. von Malt- 
 haus, those snubbing operations would be 
 extended within her immediate vicinity. She 
 would never deign to notice the Blackburns 
 across the way who had accumulated their wealth 
 in the brewing of a special brand of rye whiskey, 
 and who had had the audacity to cut her time 
 and again when artful overtures had been made 
 to secure a card to the receptions which were so 
 lavishly given. Those purse proud Greeleys, 
 whose wealth had been acquired in that most 
 plebeian of all plebeian occupations groceries 
 she would veritably extinguish with a finish that 
 would call for admiration, for she was certainly 
 their peer, since the manufacture of hempen 
 ropes, the business wherein the late Mr. Law- 
 rence had so eminently succeeded, was surely a 
 more respectable occupation, and consequently 
 she did not propose to consider the grocery set 
 in her class; while that bold and inquisitive 
 Elizabeth Lawrence, a spinster sister of her late 
 husband, who had the effrontery to repeatedly
 
 198 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 call, notwithstanding the fact that every polite 
 effort had been made to discourage her, would be 
 repulsed in a manner that would end future 
 humiliations of that kind. Once she was the 
 mother-in-law of this millionaire, who had just 
 come out of the boundless West, Elizabeth Law- 
 rence would be reminded that her calls were not 
 a source of pleasure in ways less polite than 
 those resorted to heretofore. Life would again 
 be worth the living once she had at her beck and 
 call millions. Thus 'thought Mrs. Lawrence as 
 she descended the stairway with her daughter 
 meekly following, reconciled to whatever Fate 
 and her mother should will. Weary and dis- 
 couraged, she was prepared for anything, just to 
 secure relief from the constant reproofs and un- 
 ceasing complaints, relief from a life of sham, 
 scheming and pretension that was absolutely 
 pathetic; she was prepared to do anything to 
 obtain freedom ; she was but as the thistledown 
 and her mother the wind, she was borne upon 
 the maternal wings whither she desired. 
 
 As they entered the drawing-room Mrs. Law- 
 rence received a surprise which almost made her 
 lose her self-possession, that self-possession and 
 air of assurance which was the keynote to her 
 character. For some reason she had pictured in 
 fancy this Western miner as old, rich and TU!-
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 199 
 
 gar, with every evidence of that display with 
 which the new rich [love to dazzle. Before her 
 stood a man in the prime of life, the ruddy glow 
 of health upon his face, a face that instinctively 
 made one like it, not for its beauty, but for the 
 expression of a sincere and honest personality. 
 Frankness and truthfulness were its most con- 
 spicuous features. Gray eyes looked one fear- 
 lessly and frankly in the face, eyes within whose 
 depths there lurked just the semblance of sad- 
 ness, but revealing a nature whose predominating 
 characteristic was kindness and truth. A heavy, 
 dark-brown mustache drooped gracefully above 
 a mouth about whose lines one read that inherent 
 quality of kindness, that trait which had coun- 
 seled this very call. He was dressed in faultless 
 taste, with not a single piece of jewelry in evi- 
 dence, not a sign of that vulgar display so 
 eminent with those who enjoy the first fruits of 
 success, whose early lives have been a constant 
 siege for very existence, but who, once prosperity 
 showers its favors upon them, irresistibly array 
 themselves like Solomon of old. He bowed low 
 at the entrance of Mrs. Lawrence and her daugh- 
 ter, and acknowledged the introduction to Miss 
 Lawrence with a grace which, coming as it did 
 from a miner who had but just returned from the 
 camp, was a revelation to Mrs. Lawrence. He
 
 200 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 assured her that it would be a pleasure if, in his 
 humble way, he might serve her. Mrs. Law- 
 rence replied that while the means taken to 
 secure the information regarding their interests 
 in Colorado might appear somewhat unusual, 
 still it was not so very unusual after all when one 
 reflected on those harpies, the lawyers, and hesi- 
 tated ere committing another opportunity to 
 their tender mercies to still further pluck an 
 already badly tattered bird. Indeed, would Mr. 
 von Malthaus believe it, the estate of the late Mr. 
 Lawrence had been so pitilessly and mercilessly 
 preyed upon by these human vultures that its 
 resources were, she might almost be justified in 
 saying, seriously impaired. Mr. von Malthaus 
 begged to assure her that it was a pleasure and an 
 honor to serve her, and the confidence imposed 
 was a source of flattery. Mrs. Lawrence produced 
 the deed to the Rainbow Mine, which had that 
 very morning been resurrected from among a pile 
 of rubbish in the dusty attic. To Mrs. Lawrence 
 this paper had become priceless; what a world of 
 hopes, what dreams and prayers now clustered 
 about it! 
 
 John von Malthaus glanced at the document 
 which was supposed to represent vast riches, and 
 saw at once that it was absolutely worthless, a 
 fact only too well known to Mrs. Lawrence, who
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 201 
 
 stood awaiting his decision with bated breath. 
 He was unable to find courage to tell this 
 woman, who, it appeared, had experienced not a 
 little trouble, that the paper was utterly worth- 
 less, and she most grossly deceived. He skill- 
 fully evaded a direct expression of his opinion, 
 and explained how a single mine was sometimes 
 sold to a certain individual as the Rosebud Mine, 
 to another the identical property was disposed of 
 as the Violet Mine, and there had been cases 
 where the same piece of property had done duty 
 as the Tulip Mine. This consequently caused 
 endless litigation. He would like to look into 
 this title a little more carefully by the aid of his 
 records at the hotel, and he would advise Mrs. 
 Lawrence of his decision within a day or so. 
 This was quite satisfactory to Mrs. Lawrence, 
 who was unable to express her gratitude, and 
 after a few formal remarks, Mr. von Malthaus 
 took his leave of the grateful house of Lawrence, 
 with the assurance that he would call on the 
 morrow prepared to say just what the property 
 in question was really worth. Through the 
 kindness of his noble heart, John von Malthaus 
 unwittingly furthered the scheme of Henrietta 
 Lawrence. 
 
 Had he frankly told her what she already knew 
 only too well, that the Eainbow Mine was a mere
 
 202 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 creation upon paper, as iridescent as its name, 
 his acquaintance with the Lawrences might have 
 ended then and there ; but with a desire of break- 
 ing the news as gently as possible, he intended 
 to call again, and in the meantime determine just 
 in what manner to proceed so as to cause the 
 least pain in making known to these two helpless 
 women, who, it appeared, had already greatly 
 suffered, the knowledge of the utter worthless- 
 ness of this Eainbow Mine. It was not his 
 nature to unhesitatingly inflict further pain to 
 those already wounded, and he would delay his 
 decision, and in some skillful and opportune way 
 gently inform them that their mine was but a 
 myth, and present the cruel facts in such a way 
 as to cause as little distress as possible. "With 
 the kindest intentions he determined to declare 
 the true state of affairs with all tact and con- 
 sideration upon an ensuing call. 
 
 After John von Malthaus' departure, Mrs. 
 Lawrence sought the seclusion of her 'chamber. 
 She dismissed Margaret and bade her leave her 
 alone, after which she brought out the pier mir- 
 ror into the center of the room and viewed her 
 figure from every point of vantage. She care- 
 fully studied her face wherein she discovered not 
 a few wrinkles; forsooth there were crow's-feet a 
 plenty, but there was no denying it, her figure
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 203 
 
 still had a charm, she did not know but since 
 Margaret had consented to aid in endeavors to 
 win this wealthy miner with a gracious and 
 martyr-like air, acceding to the plan of securing 
 this introduction with all the mute submission 
 of martyrdom and superior virtue, and her 
 romantic ideas pertaining to that old-fashioned 
 idea called Love, as completely out of date as the 
 stagecoach and the hoop skirt her daughter 
 would be excused from sacrificing herself as she 
 regarded it, but which in truth was merely an 
 effort at rescuing herself. Had John von Malt- 
 haus been old and decrepit this view might not 
 have obtained, but as he was forty, handsome 
 and rich, why, there was no reason in all the 
 world why Henrietta herself should not redeem 
 the shattered fortune of the house of Lawrence. 
 It would be so much better, and the effort more 
 promising for the reason that she could manage 
 matters a great deal more advantageously directly 
 than by being obliged to endeavor and obtain 
 this end through the medium of her daughter 
 Margaret, who lent herself unto her plans with 
 such a graceless air so absolutely like her 
 father, positively spiritless. 
 
 The wrinkles upon her face would be made to 
 disappear with the aid of the massage, skillfully 
 manipulated powder and rouge; these gifts
 
 204 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 afforded the gentler sex would be called upon to 
 demonstrate their virtue; and as for a bearing 
 and carriage, in strict honesty and fairness to 
 herself, she was obliged to admit that the daugh- 
 ter was not to be considered or compared for a 
 moment with the mother. She was but fifty, 
 and if she could not make herself appear at least 
 fifteen years younger she would consider herself 
 unworthy the name of woman. She felt annoyed 
 to think that Mr. von Malthaus had first beheld 
 her in this horrid black dress, as so much de- 
 pended upon first impressions. But let him wait 
 until to-morrow ; to-day he had met Mrs. Jona- 
 than Lawrence, to-morrow he would meet 
 Henrietta.
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 205 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE succeeding winter was an uneventful one 
 for John von Malthaus in the metropolis of his 
 native State upon the banks of the Delaware. It 
 was not his nature to seek social conquests, or 
 even recognition, from that direction, a recogni- 
 tion that to him meant nothing, a mere bauble, 
 the froth of idleness. His sympathy was ever 
 with the poor and the helpless and those who 
 suffered, and his beneficiaries were many. The 
 Lawrences were to him a source of considerable 
 pleasure, for the reason that they were the only 
 people outside of his business relations with 
 whom he came in contact, and he had not the 
 slightest desire to enlarge his circle of acquaint- 
 ances. The Lawrences had sought his aid and 
 counsel upon his arrival in Philadelphia; it was 
 pleasant to know them; to note the delight with 
 which his calls were received. They were help- 
 less women, and close observer that he was, he 
 saw behind the scenes, although Mrs. Lawrence 
 played her role to perfection before the foot- 
 lights. Mr. von Malthaus was well aware of the
 
 206 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 depleted condition of the family exchequer, a 
 confirmation of which was afforded in a burst of 
 confidence one day on the part of Margaret dur- 
 ing a moment of forgetfulness. His heart was 
 touched, and in consequence Mrs. Lawrence was 
 in a frenzy of delight and expectation. The 
 days glided by one after another, while the 
 Rainbow Mine decision remained undeclared. As 
 far as Mr. von Malthaus was concerned, it was 
 relief to be spared the disagreeable duty of 
 inflicting pain which he fancied the declaration 
 of the papers' worthlessness would entail. As 
 for Mrs. Lawrence, the mine had yielded its 
 richest ore, far beyond her most sanguine ex- 
 pectation in securing for her this acquaintance 
 through whose gateway she fondly dreamed and 
 prayed to pass within the castle of her life's 
 desire; while to John von Malthaus it was a 
 pleasure to see these two women go into raptures 
 at his kind solicitude and attention. The boxes 
 at the theaters and subsequent suppers at the 
 Remarque were a delirious delight to his hostess 
 and her daughter, while John von Malthaus re- 
 ceived pleasure in witnessing the happiness his 
 friendship occasioned. Mrs. Lawrence felt 
 assured of success; her step was more buoyant 
 and her spirit elated. Fortunately, indeed, 
 Miss Lawrence, of Mapledale, wisely refrained
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 207 
 
 from calling during these days of exultation, for 
 had she ventured to do so, she would have been 
 finished with a dexterity that Nero himself could 
 not have equalled. Mrs. Lawrence parted with 
 painting after painting for a mere pittance, as 
 they proved to be but copies, and remarkably 
 poor ones at that. She had come to call these 
 paintings "Isaacsteins," and the "Isaaesteins" 
 silverware and statuary were disposed of with a 
 feeling of confidence that the siege was nearly 
 ended, and that victory would eventually descend 
 upon her unconquerable banner. If he did not 
 care for her, why this attention ? Why should 
 he be so pleased when accepting her gratitude 
 for the numberless kindnesses so generously ex- 
 tended? He was, of course, only natuarally 
 delighted to see his efforts to win her so amply 
 appreciated, and with a smile she parted with her 
 last Isaacstein, and the last remaining piece of 
 statuary one morning in May. The picture 
 represented a twilight scene so typically appro- 
 priate, she mused, as representing an end, or 
 rather the close for her of a period of gloom, 
 while the statue, which at one time had been the 
 apple of her eye, represented a veiled Cupid. 
 The sculptor had chiseled a film as seemingly 
 transparent as the daintiest cobweb which seemed 
 to envelop the mythical figure. Love must
 
 208 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 Burely be veiled, ay, blindfolded, she mused, as 
 she placed the proceeds of the sale within her 
 purse, since what havoc it occasioned when per- 
 mitted to pursue its own sweet way unguided 
 and ungeneraled. How much more munificent 
 were the rewards of a little reason and judgment 
 exercised in matters of the heart. Here she was 
 with a millionaire paying court, while her daugh- 
 ter fondly waited and dreamed within the tower 
 of her air-castle for her Sir Launcelot to appear. 
 After all life was worth the living. "What a 
 delight to meet and conquer its obstacles! To 
 solve its riddles and enigmas was but child's 
 play. Success and failure were after all but the 
 fruits of one's efforts and labors; the survival of 
 the fittest was to be henceforth her motto, a 
 motto which she would have engraved on her 
 crest at no distant day. Life meant swim or 
 sink, and at this particular moment she felt con- 
 fident that Henrietta Lawrence was not the one 
 to be engulfed by the waves of adversity. She 
 was but a woman, yet how ably had she managed, 
 with what infinite tact had she brought about 
 this delightful state of affairs. She longed for 
 the privileges of manhood, oh! to be a man, 
 what conquests would she achieve! Napoleon 
 himself would be outgeneraled; she would mar- 
 shal the menials around her and pluck from the
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 209 
 
 very stars whose beams shone the brightest. 
 Thus mused she while waiting for Mr. von Malt- 
 haus* carriage this fair May morning, the day 
 upon which the Academy of Fine Arts opened its 
 doors to the public, and gave its first exhibition 
 and formal spring reception, a function to which 
 she and her daughter had been kindly invited by 
 their miner friend from Colorado. 
 
 The memory of this day was ever after indeli- 
 bly engraved upon the recollection of Mrs. Law- 
 rence. Years after she could distinctly remem- 
 ber the scent of the flowers which rose and fell 
 with her breathing upon her exultant bosom. 
 She forever minutely remembered how Mr. von 
 Malthaus, herself and Margaret had passed up 
 the broad marble stairway leading to the galler- 
 ies of the Academy of Fine Arts; how they had 
 wandered from gallery to gallery, now pausing 
 before some special subject, and then again pass- 
 ing by numberless creations which Mrs. Law- 
 rence could not help but wonder how they had 
 ever secured a hanging upon the walls; in fact, 
 after viewing a number of efforts she would not 
 even have been surprised to have found an "Isaac- 
 stein" boldly and brazenly staring at her from 
 its respectable environment. 
 
 They wandered to and fro, sometimes idly 
 drifting with the crowd, and then again freeing
 
 210 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 themselves from its confusing vortex and seeking 
 quiet corners, now admiring and now condemn- 
 ing, until Mrs. Lawrence and her daughter were 
 fatigued, and she told Mr. von Malthaus that 
 they would rest in the reception room and await 
 his inspection of the gallery of modern paintings. 
 She felt a certain sense of superiority, from an 
 artistic standpoint, as she majestically ensconced 
 herself within a sofa and begged to be excused 
 from viewing the modern creations, as she had 
 learned that one must not go into ecstasy over a 
 modern painting, but one must need enthuse 
 over cracked and faded canvasses, which, be they 
 encased in old battered and tarnished frames 
 must be declared superb. If a rent or two adorns 
 the canvas, all the better. Mrs. Lawrence felt 
 that such admiration [was the admitted test of 
 the true connoisseur, and in thus excusing her- 
 self from viewing the work of the modern school, 
 she felt perfectly nt ease with that assuring con- 
 sciousness that she was doing what was most 
 eminently proper and correct, a knowledge of 
 form at which she had arrived by the expendi- 
 ture of her entire fortune. They patiently sat 
 and waited for Mr. von Malthaus, who had made 
 his way within the gallery of moderns, and for 
 some inexplicable reason seemed to tarry, while 
 Mrs. Lawrence and her daughter impatiently
 
 t)R. POFFEtfBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 waited until the absence of their escort caused 
 them to investigate, and they found him stand- 
 ing, with his hafc lying upon the floor beside him, 
 catalogue in hand, gazing enraptured at a paint- 
 ing in a distant corner, absorbed, and seemingly 
 fascinated in its contemplation. What subject 
 could cause such an unusual abstraction? What 
 frightfully bad taste to become thus enamored 
 in the gallery of moderns. What a relief to 
 know that no one but themselves witnessed this 
 exhibition of ignorance! They slowly moved 
 toward the picture in whose contemplation John 
 von Malthaus seemed oblivious of time. They 
 paused now and then before pictures while mak- 
 ing their way toward him so as not to attract his 
 attention by appearing inquisitive, and when 
 they eventually reached the picture so absorb- 
 ingly interesting to Mr. von Malthaus, they were 
 surprised to note that it was merely a painting 
 depicting the ruins of an old castle in the far-off 
 mountains, with its perspective of hemlocks and 
 tall pine trees, reproduced with a fidelity that 
 brought forth an involuntary exclamation r of 
 praise and admiration even from Mrs. Lawrence 
 and her daughter, notwithstanding the fact that 
 it was a modern. The catalogue informed them 
 that the subject represented the ruins of a musi- 
 cian's castle, far from the world, within whose
 
 212 DR. FOFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 ivy-covered walls a genius had, hermit-like, 
 immured himself among the Alleghenies in Penn- 
 sylvania. The artist's name was given as Miss 
 Ruth Manley. 
 
 Miss Manley had depicted upon the canvas the 
 ruins of the musician's castle in northern Penn- 
 sylvania during the early autumn time. Frost 
 was shown as having laid hands upon the exuber- 
 ant vegetation, tinging the rock-maple woods, 
 without abating the deep verdure of the pine and 
 hemlock trees. The bold hill slopes and sum- 
 mits stood out clear and beautiful while the in- 
 terspersing maple and chestnut trees among their 
 surroundings of evergreen were uniformed with 
 all the hues of early fall, in colors more rich than 
 the regimentals of the kings that glittered in 
 the train of Napoleon on the confines of Poland, 
 when he lingered there on the outposts of sum- 
 mer, ere plunging into the snowdrifts of the 
 North. She had produced a reflection of the 
 forest in the early time of autumn or Indian sum- 
 mer among the Pennsylvania hills, with their 
 wealth of hazy perspective, and dim smoky vistas 
 with a faithfulness and skill that delighted all 
 lovers of the beautiful in nature and art. 
 Decay's finger was shown as having not yet swept 
 the lines where beauty lingers, but clothed the 
 forest about the oastle in robes more gorgeous
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 213 
 
 than the array of Saladin'slife guards in the war 
 of the Crusaders. She had caught the true tint 
 of the dark emerald blue pines and the rich 
 clinging green of the ivy vines that fondly em- 
 braced the mouldering walls of the storied and 
 crumbling pile. 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence and her daughter resumed 
 their seat in the reception room and patiently 
 waited with mingled curiosity and some chagrin, 
 because Mrs. Lawrence felt that the deliberate 
 manner in which they were being utterly ignored 
 amounted almost to rudeness. They had passed 
 so closely that their garments brushed him, yet 
 he had paid no more attention to them than if 
 they had been just so much air. 
 
 In imagination that broad-shouldered man was 
 but a boy again. Once more did he wander 
 beneath those very trees, so faithfully depicted 
 upon the canvas before him, happy and free 
 from care. In fancy he once more made his 
 tryst beneath those very maple and hemlock 
 shades; while each and every event associated 
 with his childhood and boyhood passed in review 
 before him like a ghost of dream phantoms, some 
 in sorrow and others in joy. 
 
 In imagination he was again within that far- 
 away region in the distant West by the broad 
 and rapid-running river Colorado, in that region
 
 2U DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 of endless wealth and giant hills, where the ser- 
 rated line of shimmering mantled peaks of mar- 
 velous forms and color loomed up beyond the 
 intervening deep valleys in magnificent splendor; 
 where Nature stands forth in all its magnificence, 
 as yet undefiled by man. There he fancied he 
 labored and lived within his little cabin nestling 
 at the foot of two great mountains, the whole 
 canopied by a sky soft and translucent as the 
 petals of a soft, blush rose, with the little lake at 
 his feet reproducing with a mirror-like fidelity 
 the green forests, bare peaks and motionless seas 
 of towering crests, as he sought within the world's 
 treasure-chest for gold, that shining metal which 
 was to bring unto him whatever his heart might 
 covet. Those days of homesick longing for his 
 native valley in Pennsylvania were tenderly 
 recalled by this picture of a ruined castle, so 
 beautifully typical of that castle which he hail 
 so fondly reared. Those struggles and hard- 
 ships, those hopes and fears, following upon 
 each other's footsteps as he labored and sought 
 for that shining sand, whose iridescent gleam 
 was to light his pathway to beds of ease, and 
 grant unto him forgetfulness of the love of his 
 youthful years Ruth Manley for whose sake 
 the little lake by whose crystal waters he had built 
 his cabin in that far-away land, was known and
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 215 
 
 named by himself "Lake Euth," \vhile he 
 labored there those weary years amid surround- 
 ing steeps, beside whose immense jagged 
 heights the crags and peaks of the snowy Alps 
 sink into insignificance. 
 
 In imagination he once more gazed upon those 
 giant hills and snow-capped minarets, and the 
 far-away waters of fair Lake Euth so beautiful 
 and clear, as he bade them a tender farewell and 
 silently blessed them for their silent and blissful 
 companionship, which had been so grateful 
 through these weary years. 
 
 Now that gold, for whose glitter mankind 
 yearns and ever seeks, was his in abundance, it 
 seemed, for some reason that possession had not 
 entirely brought him the peace and contentment 
 for whose acquisition he had labored and prayed. 
 Thus far, of all the pleasures his gold had yet 
 brought him, the stipend expended to view these 
 paintings within this gallery, had surely yielded 
 the greatest return; for what memories were 
 recalled by this beautiful scene from the cob- 
 webbed halls of remembrance. 
 
 John von Malthaus was so absorbed that the 
 flight of time was forgotten. From his abstrac- 
 tion he was only aroused by one of the attendants 
 who politely touched his arm and informed him 
 that a lady in the reception room would be
 
 216 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 pleased to speak to him whenever he felt at 
 leisure. He was astonished to learn that it had 
 grown almost dark while he stood before that 
 picture, bound in dream-visions of youth-time, of 
 his love and his toils, thrilled to the soul by the 
 magic glamour evoked by arts' mystic spell; fas- 
 cinated and enchanted for the reason that the 
 catalogue stated the artist of this picture of a 
 scene dear to him was Miss Ruth Manley, and 
 not Mrs. Art, for which he thanked God forever 
 and aye.
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 21? 
 
 CfiAPTEB XI. 
 
 WHILE waiting for the return of John von 
 Malthaus from the gallery of the moderns, after 
 having ascertained the subject of the painting in 
 whose contemplation their escort seemed to have 
 forgotten everything, Mrs. Lawrence and her 
 daughter exchanged opinions as to the merit of 
 the picture of such engrossing interest to him. 
 The daughter naturally considered a ruined 
 castle delightfully romantic, although she was 
 obliged to confess that the subject was hardly 
 one calculated to cause a man from the uncul- 
 tured West toilose himself so completely in its 
 beholding; still she confessed the picture was 
 beautiful. 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence, irritated and ill at ease, most 
 certainly begged to differ. Why, in the name of 
 all that was wonderful people wanted to paint 
 and others to go into rapture over ruins, she 
 was utterly unable to conceive. A ruin was natu- 
 rally worthless, a mere shell that had served its 
 purpose, and the very fact that the place had 
 been deserted was emphatic evidence that its fur-
 
 218 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 ther occupancy had been found undesirable, 
 since it had been given over to the owls and ivy. 
 For her, she preferred life with its attending 
 bustle. Had this artist equally as skillfully por- 
 trayed the Lawrence rope walk upon the banks 
 of the Wissahickon, with its swarm of operatives, 
 like bees among the clover, busily engaged in 
 attaining that sustenance with which to keep 
 body and soul together, she might also feel in- 
 clined to enthuse and go into raptures over "a 
 modern" as depicting a phase of life as we found 
 it, a phase of vital interest; but to waste infinite 
 time and labor in producing the reflection of a 
 miserable and worthless pile in the fastness of 
 hemlock shades, a pile whose walls seemed to be 
 covered with the lichen and ivy vines, was surely 
 time and energy wasted, an effort that had but 
 resulted in depicting decay painted with a real- 
 ism that almost gave one the shivers. Her self- 
 conceit had received a serious shock by the 
 unusual distraction of Mr. von Malthaus. She 
 had fondly imagined it was herself in whose 
 society he delighted, and to be thus left seated 
 alone with her daughter fcr two mortal hours, 
 while her imagined adorer completely lost him- 
 self in the contemplation of a picture depicting 
 a ruin, was not flattering, to say the very least. 
 Had it been a painting, for instance, like the
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 219 
 
 "Temptation of St. Anthony" she might have 
 consoled herself by the reflection that the abstrac- 
 tion was caused by an imaginary reverie wherein 
 Mr. von Malthaus fancied the mythical nymph 
 one whom he knew, and in whose society he 
 showed every evidence of receiving the greatest 
 pleasure, himself the sore-tempted saint; but a 
 ruin certainly was not for a moment to be con- 
 strued as reflecting even a faint shadow of the 
 personality of Henrietta Lawrence, most cer- 
 tainly not. Upon his return to her side, a 
 return that was only secured by dispatching an 
 attendant to the gallery to inform the loitering 
 visitor that she desired to see him, Mr. von Malt- 
 haus was received with an icy reserve and a cool- 
 ness which was a revelation. His thoughts were 
 far from the present. Within his bosom alterna- 
 ted wild thoughts and hopeful anticipations. 
 The catalogue stated the artist was Miss Kuth 
 Manley; which implied that Euth had never 
 been married. The love of his youth was at this 
 very moment within the city, free and unwedded, 
 and had she not told him in those years gone by 
 that she would love him forever? So absorbed 
 was he in his own thoughts that he failed to hear 
 the remark from Mrs. Lawrence "that taking 
 ladies to an exhibition of paintings and permit- 
 ting them to remain seated by themselves for
 
 220 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 hours, while their escort lost himself and all 
 recollection of time and place, and those demands 
 contingent upon him as a gentleman, in gazing 
 upon the picture of a ruin, did not obtain "with 
 the classes with whom herself and daughter were 
 accustomed to affiliate, "and the information was 
 entirely lost upon him. 
 
 The drive homeward to the Lawrence mansion 
 was a silent and embarrassed one. A queen had 
 suffered an indignity, and this uncouth miner 
 from out the West might just as well be given to 
 understand now as later on that constant allegi- 
 ance and homage was expected, a homage which 
 would not be acceptable in spurts and moments, 
 but must needs worship for all time. This 
 should be the test, she would appear as having 
 been deeply injured, and thus bring him to con- 
 sciousness that after all he might lose her. This 
 naturally would lead to a prayer for pardon, and 
 heaven only knew, possibly a declaration, a 
 declaration that she fancied must surely be 
 made. After all, it had perhaps been fortunate 
 that he should thus unwittingly have erred and 
 opened the way for craving her pardon and pos- 
 sibly laying at her feet his heart, his all. This 
 would at once place her upon a most advantageous 
 footing; she would be gracious and kindly con- 
 descend. "With kindred thoughts in mind, when
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 221 
 
 the Walnut Street house was reached, as she 
 passed out of the carriage Mrs. Lawrerre played 
 the injured role to perfection ; she ..wept by John 
 von Malthaus, who had alighted to assist her, in 
 regal majesty. John von Malthaus expressed 
 his sincere regret if his thoughtlessness had 
 occasioned annoyance, and as Mrs. Lawrence 
 reached the marble steps of her home, she merely 
 paused and slightly turned her head toward him, 
 and in icy tones desired to say that his conduct 
 certainly called for an explanation ; after which 
 she haughtily ascended the marble steps with 
 Margaret meekly following, fearful and nervous. 
 
 John von Malthaus turned and dismissed his 
 carriage and entered the house with them, per- 
 fectly willing and fully prepared to make the 
 explanation. Margaret Lawrence had fled to her 
 room the moment she reached the hallway, the 
 looks of her mother were such as surely por- 
 tended a storm. Like the native of the tropics 
 who by the appearance of the clouds can fortell 
 the approach of the coming tornado, so Margaret 
 Lawrence had learned to distinguish the symp- 
 toms of the storm of her mother's displeasure 
 which she was certain was about to break. 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence with a haughty mien paused to 
 listen to an explanation which would end, who 
 could say? by an avowal for which she had
 
 222 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 waited and striven. It was well it had hap- 
 pened, thought she, it had brought matters to a 
 crisis. She appeared magnificent standing 
 before the fireplace, her head thrown back, her 
 bosom heaving; the rose upon it withered and 
 shedding its petals, its golden heart slowly being 
 exposed. Upon her cheeks a faint flush of rosy 
 color was visible, appearing delicate and trans- 
 parent, thanks to the deft application of Giland's 
 Balm of Youth. John von Malthaus gazed at her 
 in amazement and admiration, because she 
 looked superb as she assumed the role of injured 
 dignity, but he immediately proceeded to explain 
 what had surely been an unintentional rudeness. 
 He stood upon one side of the fireplace, with 
 one foot resting upon the fender, his hands 
 clasped behind him, his head slightly thrown 
 back with the light from the opposite window 
 falling full upon his face. Upon the opposite 
 side of the fireplace stood Mrs. Lawrence slowly 
 removing her gloves with her gaze directed 
 through the window and into the treetops. At 
 the beginning of his recital, she gazed far above 
 and over him, and seemed to search the clouds, 
 her lip slightly curled as he described his boy- 
 hood, and she was at a loss to understand why a 
 description of his humble surroundings need 
 figure in an explanation which was supposed to
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 223 
 
 clear away an affront and rudeness to which she 
 and her daughter had been subjected that day. 
 As for humble, youthful surroundings, she was 
 inclined to think they were not a novelty ; but 
 as his story progressed that search among the 
 clouds was abandoned, and she stood perfectly 
 motionless with one hand clasping the mantel 
 for support while she listened to the death-knell 
 to all her plans and fondest hopes. 
 
 He told her how his youth had been spent 
 among the foothills of the northern Alleghenies, 
 far from the track of modern conventionality in 
 northern Pennsylvania; he told her how he loved 
 Euth Manley, how they had secretly and fondly 
 loved each other until she had been banished by " 
 an unrelentless aunt to far away Massachusetts. 
 He told her how after long, weary years, news had 
 reached him that she was married. He told her 
 how he had left the scenes of his childhood and 
 sought the distant West seeking gold and forget- 
 fulness. Gold was his in plenty, but forgetful- 
 ness was the thrice sought-for boon that had 
 been cruelly denied him. He told her how he 
 returned to that humble home of his childhood 
 a wealthy, a sadder and wiser man, only to find 
 his mother at rest within the little graveyard 
 among the tall fir trees; how he had sat by his 
 mother's k grave in the autumn starlight, and
 
 224 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 would gladly have parted -with all his wealth to 
 have only been able to behold that sacred form 
 in life once more, to have listened to her sweet, 
 unworldlj- advice and chiding; ay, he would 
 have gladly given all his wealth to have beheld 
 her just once more seated within her old Dutch 
 armchair by the wisteria-draped window in the 
 old home cottage and heard her sing again her 
 tender, old-fashioned lullabies. "What was the 
 world after all, with its sinful and constant 
 scheming, compared with that old-fashioned 
 mother whom he would never see again, that old- 
 fashioned mother who had kissed him in his 
 tender childhood and manhood, who loved him in 
 'sorrow and injo}', that mother who had loved him 
 with never-ending devotion, and had not sought 
 or expected any return ; she whose spirit had 
 been as gentle and free from all guile as the 
 hollyhocks and sweet-peas whose old-fashioned 
 blooms had shed their sweetness around her, 
 framing an angel tender and pure. He told her 
 how the valley to him had become unbearable, 
 and a return to the home of his childhood out of 
 the question ; how he had sat by that grave 
 through the long autumn night; sat by that 
 mound whose grasses glittered with the dew. 
 He told her how he had sought the distant city, 
 bidding farewell to the Susquehanna and his
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 225 
 
 native valley forever ; how he had sought the tur- 
 moil of the great and busy -world where ever 
 since he had wandered lonely, although midst a 
 crowd. He told her how he had ever watched 
 the hurrying throngs eager and expectant with 
 the hope of catching but a farewell glimpse of 
 the face and form which he had loved in his boy- 
 hood, and which to him was as dear as ever. 
 His mother had passed away, but Ruth Manley 
 was living in this very city. They had been his 
 all, one was gone never more to return but at 
 least a farewell glimpse might yet be afforded 
 him of his youthful love. Although he had 
 imagined she belonged to another, yet his heart 
 had ever hungered for but one more glance at 
 the dream of his boyhood, the embodiment of all 
 purity and truth. Since the day that he had 
 been told she was married to another, he had 
 not known what rest was, he had known no other 
 desire save that of seeing her but once more. 
 He had not the least wish for the luxuries the 
 city and his wealth could give him ; he wanted 
 not women, wine, feasts and song; he wanted 
 naught save Euth. That ruined castle so de- 
 lightfully depicted by Miss Manley, and in whose 
 contemplation he had lost all sense of time, had 
 been the very place of their youthful tryst. 
 Beneath those very trees they had wandered
 
 226 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 loving and happy; need she wonder that his 
 heart was beguiled? That for -which he was 
 unable to express his gratitude was the fact that 
 the catalogue decribed her as Miss Euth Manley; 
 that was what made his heart beat faster and his 
 very pulse thrill. 
 
 As Mrs. Lawrence listened to this tale, the 
 lofty look and majestic mien slowly and softly 
 faded, her bosom heaved and throbbed, the rose 
 she wore shed its petals one by one until its 
 golden heart lay exposed and bare, lay bare as 
 the heart beneath it whose pulsations caused 
 those rose leaves to scatter and fall; and Mr. 
 von Malthaus concluded his explanation with the 
 declaration that unless he could marry Euth 
 Manley he would live and die unwedded. Mrs. 
 Lawrence saw that isle of her fond fancy fade 
 into obscurity and nothingness. She listened 
 to a tale that prophesied the end to all her ex- 
 pectations. As she listened to that tale of a 
 lover's faithfulness and patient waiting, for the 
 first time in her life she realized love's pleasure 
 and pain. Her girlhood and youth had been 
 passed in an environment from which she ever 
 longed to escape. This wish for freedom had 
 become the dream of her life ; to leave that life 
 forever behind her, the craving and seeking for 
 a more lofty level had become almost a second
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 237 
 
 nature to her. As she advanced in life all aspira- 
 tions and feelings were extinguished save the 
 engrossing and unappeasable ambition for social 
 advancement. Her marriage had been consum- 
 mated, not because she had loved Mr. Lawrence, 
 but because he had been a step in the ladder 
 whereon she desired to rise ; any one else would 
 have answered her purpose equally as well. She 
 was seeking and ever ascending into that world 
 of life and action for whose distractions and tri- 
 umphs she ceaselessly and constantly longed. 
 Yet within her bosom there had lain unblossomed 
 the bud of love, waiting these many years for 
 the sunshine of some congenial personality to 
 expand its unblushed petals and thrill her being 
 with the true essence of life. As she listened to 
 this tale of constant love for another by the very 
 knight of her dreams, a tale that but revealed to 
 her his undying allegiance, she was weak and 
 chilled. Like the irresistible tide of the heaving 
 sea did the realization of her love enfold her; and 
 as she listened to that death-knell of all her 
 hopes, her heart grew sick and weary. What, 
 after all, cared she for his wealth ? It was but a 
 bauble compared with the richness his love would 
 bestow. "With outstretched arms she begged 
 and beseeched him to pause in his wild fancy. 
 He must remember JRuth Manley was now a great
 
 228 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 artist ; one who had the world at her feet. The 
 mountain maid of his remembrance and the 
 painter of the ruined castle were two very dis- 
 tinct personalities, that moved in wholly differ- 
 ent spheres. But the other day she had read of 
 this very Miss Manley as having that pet and 
 idol of society at her feet, the Count von Wolfen- 
 stein. Did he for a moment suppose Miss Man- 
 ley would deign to listen to a suit with which 
 her tender and unknowing youth had idly been 
 beguiled ? If Mr. von Malthaus thus imagined, 
 surely, then, he did not know women. Might it 
 perhaps not appear presumptuous to bring before 
 her a matter that, as far as Miss Manley was con- 
 cerned, had surely long since been relegated into 
 the past, an epoch of her existence wherein she 
 knew naught of the world, its triumphs, its bliss 
 and it pain. Did not Mr. von Malthaus know 
 that the world was divided, one might say, into 
 two distinct classes? There were those who 
 knew and who enjoyed the good things of life, 
 who plucked the earth's richness and laughed 
 while they might; and there were those who 
 dwelt largely within the region of fancy, who 
 went into ecstasies over the antique and remote, 
 to whom birthright and heirlooms were all and 
 all, and who looked upon those who enjoyed 
 their wealth and its attendant blessings as un-
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 229 
 
 couth and vulgar; a dislike which increased a 
 thousandfold were that wealth newly gained. 
 Here was this artist with the portals of Fame 
 opening up before her, surely the pinnacle of 
 the woman's ambition, with a count at her feet; 
 how would she receive an attempt to restore a 
 relation whose very existence must surely long 
 ago have faded away ? He must remember that 
 Miss Manley lived and moved in an atmosphere 
 where recently obtained wealth was looked upon 
 as the least of all things to countenance. She 
 was doubtless one of the deluded persons who 
 valued birthright and ancestry, or was an adher- 
 ent of the affectation that whatever was con- 
 sidered correct by the exclusive circle she fre- 
 quented, was better than gold. Such people 
 accepted the corn tassel plume and looked upon 
 the golden grain as so much dross. 
 
 John von Malthaus told her she did not know 
 Buth Manley. She was as pure and fresh as the 
 mountain rose. She might have this count at 
 her feet, he did not blame the man, but rather 
 liked him for it ; but winning her was another 
 thing. Buth Manley was as unlike the women 
 one met these days, and by whose standard Mrs. 
 Lawrence judged her, as the real landscape was 
 in nature from that one saw upon the stage. 
 
 She had been desperately resolved to win him,
 
 230 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 since her life depended upon it, and now that 
 she felt she loved him she was driven to frenzy. 
 He seemed to her a hundred times more beauti- 
 ful and noble ; and when she realized that this 
 passion within her was doomed to be unre- 
 quited, she fancied for a moment that she was 
 going mad. Since her girlhood she had always 
 accomplished whatever she had undertaken, with 
 the passionateness of one who does not under- 
 stand failure or the need of meekly bowing to 
 the force of circumstances. To lose now this 
 crowning joy was like death. Like the player at 
 Monte Carlo who stakes his all, if he wins, 
 wealth and happiness, if he loses, death and 
 destruction; so had she placed her all in the 
 balance to be either saved or destroyed. The 
 constant aggression through which she had 
 ascended engrafted in her nature the "conviction 
 that every command and wish of hers must be 
 obeyed and fulfilled, and as she saw the last ves- 
 tige of hope drift from her, and Mapledale, with 
 its attendant humiliations loom up before her, 
 she cast to the winds that unwritten law which 
 compels the woman to conceal her love whose un- 
 sought-for revelation brings to her shame and 
 sorrow. With a crimson flush covering her face 
 she told John von Malthaus that she loved him, 
 ay, loved him with her heart and soul. Why
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 231 
 
 need he tempt humiliation in endeavoring to 
 gain this love of his youth-time who was enslaved 
 in this realm of fashion and art? 
 
 Like the shipwrecked sailor, parched and 
 hungry, who had been wafted by a friendly 
 breeze unto an isle whereon is heard the drop- 
 ping of sparkling waterfalls, with fruits in 
 abundance almost within reach, and who, having 
 seemingly attained a thrice-blessed haven, is 
 irresistibly blown upon his frail craft out to sea 
 and certain destruction, so did Mrs. Lawrence 
 gaze upon John von Malthaus' retreating figure, 
 with her face an ashen hue, her breath labored 
 and her throat parched, her heart beating to 
 suffocation. Was this to be the end of her 
 dream of prosperity in whose anticipation she 
 had lived and blissfully dreamed as the days sped 
 by ? Dimly she saw John von Malthaus standing 
 within the doorway ; she saw him bow low, and 
 heard his voice coming, it seemed, from far 
 away. Dimly she heard the door close upon 
 him, and then blessed unconsciousness came to 
 her relief. Beside the fireplace she sank 
 crushed and apparently lifeless, with the golden 
 heart of the petaless rose upon her bosom, her 
 face ashen gray, her heart beating convulsively, 
 as though it fain would break its bonds, now 
 faint and low, and then again fluttering like an
 
 232 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 imprisoned bird. Thus she lay in unconscious- 
 ness while the shades of night were slowly 
 assuming their shadowy sway. Slowly her 
 senses returned to her. By degrees the memory 
 of that scene from which she had sunk into 
 blessed oblivion was painfully recalled. 
 
 Her indomitable spirit was crushed and 
 broken. In hoarse and tragic whispers she re- 
 peated the one word ''lost." Ay, she had lost; 
 she had staked her all, even her heart, and 
 luck had gone against her. Like a wounded 
 creature she dragged her weary limbs up the 
 stairway. She appeared old and haggard. Her 
 face was as ashen gray, while her heart seemed 
 rent and bleeding within her. She reached her 
 chamber murmuring but that one word "lost" 
 again and again. Thus she slowly paced the 
 length of the room utterly oblivious to all around 
 her. Life which that morning had been rosy 
 with 'hope was now but a blackened ruin. She 
 would at last give up the struggle. She 
 admitted to herself that hope was gone. 
 
 It had grown entirely dark, yet she paced her 
 chamber in the gloom, tearless and determined 
 to die. A knock upon her chamber door aroused 
 her, and as it opened, the maid half-fearfully 
 and timidly approached and extended a letter 
 toward her. After the gas was lighted she
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 233 
 
 noticed the card of the Remarque Hotel within 
 the upper left-hand corner. She opened the 
 letter, which was somewhat large and bulky, and 
 read as follows : 
 
 "DEAR MADAM: John von Malthaus, Esq., 
 directs me to hand you herewith a deed, free 
 from all encumbrances, conveying to you the 
 property in Colorado known as the Sunset Mine. 
 This is in exchange for the paper submitted to 
 him by you last autumn covering a similar prop- 
 erty which is known as the Rainbow Mine. Mr. 
 von Malthaus is of the opinion that he may 
 probably be able to use the latter property to 
 advantage in conjunction with other interests of 
 a similar character. 
 
 "The Sunset Mine will yield you an annual 
 income of not less than ten thousand dollars. 
 "Respectfully, 
 
 "MARTIN BLACKSTONE, 
 "Attorney." 
 
 Up to this period of her lifetime Mrs. Law- 
 rence had never known the blessed relief of that 
 feminine luxury, tears. Hers had been a tear- 
 less pilgrimage. She had passed the years with 
 dry and arid cheeks, those tears so soothing to 
 the afflicted daughter of Eve had hitherto been 
 unknown to her in her hours of trial and grief; 
 but as she read this letter the dried-up fountain 
 welled forth in copious draughts, Henrietta
 
 234 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 Lawrence wept as surely woman never wept 
 before. Like a leaf in the storm she shook in 
 anguish. Bitter and briny were those long-pent- 
 up tears, whose gushing waters now saved her 
 life and reason. 
 
 After the storm came the calm, and from that 
 day Henrietta Lawrence's life assumed a differ- 
 ent tenor. The unbroken spirit which had 
 braved and dared had at last been ^broken ; that 
 assurance and will at last recognized a master ; 
 submission had at last to be acknowledged. 
 
 The letter which had brought her independ- 
 ence for a lifetime, and rescued her from the 
 ignoble shades of Mapledale or the bed of the 
 still-flowing river, revealed unto her a nature 
 and man whose love would never be hers, but 
 whom she silently and passionately adored. 
 That kindness had shown her what a compas- 
 sionate and noble heart was this whose love 
 would never be hers. That experience changed 
 her from an ambitious and scheming woman into 
 one of gentleness and sympathetic pity. 
 
 A sisterly welcome always thereafter awaited 
 Elizabeth Lawrence because beneath that angular 
 personality might also be hidden from the pitiless 
 and prying eyes of the world a tragedy such as 
 she was doomed to carry with her through life. 
 Indeed Mapledale was seen in a more tender and
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 235 
 
 subdued light, through smoked glasses, as it 
 were, whose softening influence seemed to hare 
 rounded all rough edges as Henrietta Lawrence 
 now beheld them. For deep within the inner- 
 most recess of her heart she carried a secret of 
 pain and humilation, the pain of a love unre- 
 quited and unappeased. Its refining influence 
 forever after pervaded her being, and Henrietta 
 Lawrence died with that secret known only to 
 herself and John von Malthaus, in whose keeping 
 it was doubly secure, and forever remained un- 
 disclosed.
 
 236 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 UPON the day following John von Malthaus' 
 explanation to Mrs. Lawrence as to the cause of 
 his forgetfulness in the gallery of modern paint- 
 ings, the artist, Miss Manley, was quite surprised 
 to learn that the secretary of the Society of Fine 
 Arts was in receipt of a communication soliciting 
 terms for the sale of the picture, "A Ruined 
 Castle," and begged to be permitted to suggest 
 that the price for the picture in question be made 
 as moderate as possible in order to insure its 
 sale. It should be borne in mind that the en- 
 hancement in value which accrued to works of 
 art was principally obtained by the fame and 
 prestige attached to the name of the artist. In 
 order to become known, it seemed wise that the 
 young artist should dispose of a first effort at 
 what might appear a loss, with the assurance 
 that the advantage eventually obtained in the 
 direction of becoming known in the world of art 
 would prove ample reward for any seeming sacri- 
 fice attending such a disposition, and in the end 
 prove the wisdom of the policy. If the Society
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 237 
 
 could be of any further service to Miss Manley in 
 conveying any intimation to their client in the 
 direction indicated, it would indeed be a 
 pleasure. 
 
 In reply to this communication, Miss Manley 
 begged to inform the Society that its good in- 
 tentions were quite sincerely appreciated. 
 "While she was obliged to admit the increased 
 value in works of art from a 'pecuniary stand- 
 point, according to the fame and prestige of the 
 artist, she believed that a work of art should be 
 judged and valued by what one felt toward it. 
 And she took no pains whatever to disguise her 
 contempt for all the humbug, snobbishness, and 
 affectation in the judgments dictated by fashion 
 as to what was supposed to be "correct." 
 Triviality and conventionalitj", as evidenced in 
 the lionizing of men and things, so remarked at 
 this day, were equally hateful to her. She was 
 unwilling to believe that an artist, having once 
 produced a work of merit, would thereafter be 
 incapable of producing work of an inferior char- 
 acter. Miss Manley was of the opinion that a 
 painting especially should be valued and paid 
 for according to the amount of pleasure and 
 benefit its possession afforded, since its value 
 was more suggestive than present; and if the 
 Society would be good enough to convey to their
 
 238 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 client the artist's idea as to the valuation of 
 works of art, she would be obliged. 
 
 The Society, of course, was only too glad to 
 be of service in conveying this information to 
 Mr. von Malthaus. 
 
 The following evening Miss Manley was the 
 recipient of but two letters; one of these she 
 noticed was from the Secretary of the Fine Arts 
 Society, while the other missive was addressed 
 in the bold and florid hand by which she in- 
 stantly recognized the writer as Kudolph von 
 Wolfenstein. 
 
 Seating herself at her writing table, which 
 stood by the window facing the shady square, 
 she opened the count's communication. With 
 mingled surprise and interest she perused its 
 contents. Upon the top of its snowy pages 
 gleamed the ancestral crest of jits inditer, which 
 revealed him as one in whom the pride of family 
 was a matter of no minor importance; and the 
 courtly diction of the missive indicated a stanch 
 adherent of the old school of gallantry, one who, 
 it seemed, had been little influenced by the 
 changes of fashion, and one of the few who 
 looked with contempt upon modern distinction, 
 and the mushroom aristocracy with its tawdry 
 glitter. 
 
 He told her how the modern woman, with her
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 239 
 
 mannish and unnatural ways had most painfully 
 disillusioned him. Eeared and bred as he had 
 been among what was now called the old school, 
 he walked and wandered in a maze. Yes, he had 
 long ago made up his mind that he would spend 
 his days in bachelordom. A woman in trousers 
 and a man's cravat had no charm for him. 
 Stalking females were not in keeping with that 
 character of woman that he had grown to revere 
 and respect. A woman who smoked and rode 
 astride either horse or bicycle was not the one 
 that could ever hope to win his heart. The 
 woman who had discarded the modest tenderness 
 and sweetness (as essential to her true character 
 as the perfume was to the rose) was not the one 
 whom he could marry. He had walked the earth 
 in despair. Happy chance had led his wander- 
 ing footsteps to the Quaker City. He told her how 
 her personality had first impressed him ; how he 
 had blessed the day that had brought them 
 together at the reception of their mutual friend, 
 Mrs. Powell. Since then he had known no rest. 
 She was the woman who was just as he had 
 dreamed since childhood the mistress of his 
 heart and home must be above all things 
 womanly, endowed with a wholesome taste, cul- 
 tured and beautiful. The pages of this letter 
 glowed with tender entreaties that she grant the
 
 240 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 prayer of one to whom her own dear self was a 
 matter of supreme importance, and contained 
 such eloquent and beautiful pleadings that Miss 
 Manley 's face was diffused with blushes. "I 
 pray you cast the palette and brush aside, my 
 dear Miss Manley, and paint for me a life of joy, 
 the unfulfilled dream of a weary and tired mor- 
 tal. One who has traversed the desert parched 
 and weary, and finds unexpectedly an oasis by 
 his side, an oasis whereon there blooms that 
 flower of everlasting grace, a pure and womanly 
 woman. Turn me not adrift to continue my 
 wanderings, now that within my heart is fore- 
 shadowed that realization of dreams, dreamed in 
 years of waiting, while now is reflected within 
 me the blessed rainbow of peace." He prayed 
 that she might listen to his suit and send him a 
 note to say that she would be gracious, when he 
 would hasten to her and be her slave forever. 
 
 Miss Manley laid this letter upon the table 
 before her, while her thoughts seemed far away. 
 After some moments of deep and earnest deliber- 
 ation, she opened the letter from the Secretarj' of 
 Fine Arts, prepared to hear more upon the sub- 
 ject of the picture of "A Ruined Castle," and in 
 this she was not mistaken. 
 
 The Society of Fine Arts begged to inform 
 Miss Manley that her ideas as regarded the valua-
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 241 
 
 tion and disposition of works of art had been 
 carefully conveyed to their client, and, as a 
 result, based upon her theory, he considered the 
 picture "A Kuined Castle," worth to him all his 
 worldly possessions, which were in the neigh- 
 borhood of twenty-five million dollars; with this 
 situation they begged to say they considered 
 themselves utterly incapable of coping, and 
 would Miss Manley have the goodness to instruct 
 further? It might also be of interest to Miss 
 Manley to know that their client was a Mr. John 
 von Malthaus, but lately returned from the far 
 West, where he had amassed his wealth, and 
 seemed especially taken with the picture in ques- 
 tion. While it was quite evident that her idea 
 of disposing of works of art was not what might 
 be called a thoroughly practical one, yet the 
 Society considered it a great compliment to an 
 artist to have produced a work of so much merit 
 and attraction. They begged to be permitted to 
 place themselves at Miss Manley 's service and 
 respectfully awaited her further pleasure. 
 
 As Miss Manley read this letter she felt that 
 that legend of Brittany relating to the imagi- 
 nary town called "Is, "which is supposed to have 
 been swallowed up by the sea at some unknown 
 time, but the tips of whose spires are still visi- 
 ble in the hollow of the waves when the sea is
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 rough, while during a calm the music of their 
 bells ringing out the hymn appropriate to the 
 day arose above the waters, was not altogether a 
 myth. She felt as she read this letter and its 
 wonderful tribute, that she had within the secret 
 recesses of her heart a lost city of "Is," with its 
 bells calling to prayer a recalcitrant congrega- 
 tion. As she stood in tha twilight she tenderly 
 listened to those gentle vibrations which seemed 
 as if they came from immeasurable depths, like 
 voices of another world, and as she gathered up 
 these distant echoes of a vanished Atlantis, she 
 was overwhelmed by a flood of tender memories. 
 
 From a neighboring mansion, tenderly and 
 sweetly floated the notes of the song, "When the 
 Eoses Bloom Again." Would the roses ever 
 bloom for her as beautifully as they did of yore in 
 the valley of the Susquehanna, when she gathered 
 their dewj r petals amid Dame Endicott's gar- 
 den, while dreaming of her youthful lover across 
 the hills? Had life been as joyful and bright 
 since her departure from those peaceful shades? 
 Were the deprivations of unconventional pleas- 
 ures compensated for by the brief and hard- 
 earned triumphs of a more conventional existence ? 
 
 The windows of the studio were open, through 
 which fell long, golden bars of the setting sun. 
 The birds in the tree tops of the historic old
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 243 
 
 park chirped and twittered. The letter which 
 had brought her a message of tribute and love 
 and steadfast remembrance fluttered to the floor; 
 while with her hands behind her, she stood 
 silent and thoughtful as upon the evening breeze 
 came floating that tender melody, "When the 
 Roses Bloom Again." Thus she stood until the 
 song had died away in silence and the chirping 
 birds were hushed in slumber, while the twilight 
 cast fitful shadows across the dim old room, ere 
 she aroused herself from her reverie. Seating 
 herself at her writing table, she addressed a note 
 to the Society of Fine Arts. 
 
 She also replied to the count's communica- 
 tion, and the following~week society was grieved 
 to hear that the dear, charming count had con- 
 cluded to return to his native heath beyond the 
 sea; his departure being hastened by the climate, 
 which was so very unsettled, you know, and the 
 dear, precious count considered it unwise to risk 
 his health, and would insist upon tearing himself 
 away, much to the disappointment of doweresque 
 dames who had daughters to be suitably mated, 
 and to whom, naturally enough, a count seemed 
 just the proper thing.
 
 244 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE sunlight of a beautiful summer morning 
 was weaving itself with the leafy shadows of the 
 grand old sycamore and elm trees in Rittenhouse 
 Square as John von Malthaus paused before the 
 old gray mansion, where, upon the panel of the 
 wide and old-time doorway, was displayed the 
 polished sign of 
 
 "RUTH MANLEY, 
 
 "Artist." 
 
 The inscription conjured up visions of youth 
 and love, and recalled again with their former 
 tenderness those dreams that for him had 
 wavered and flickered, even as the dancing sun- 
 light, whose golden checkers now graced the 
 greensward around him and fell across his path- 
 way. It all seemed wonderful that he, who but 
 ten years ago labored and loved in his native 
 valley, happy and free from care, should to-day- 
 be rich and seemingly free from sorrow; and yet, 
 sometimes, he could not help but fancy that after
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 245 
 
 all, that old-time life, with its incessant toil and 
 homely joys, had brought him more real enjoy- 
 ment. His present life, of course, was by far 
 more grand, but, somehow, ease seemed wanting, 
 and the banishment of Kuth Manley from that 
 far-away valley in the years gone by, seemed 
 to have also banished for him that calm for 
 which his heart ever hungered. 
 
 The sight of this name, together with the 
 beautiful summer morning, exercised a magic 
 influence over him and carried him back to the 
 days of his childish sports among the old green 
 fields, with their gently waving trees where the 
 birds used to sing as he had never heard them 
 since. 
 
 His hand trembled as he sounded the ancient 
 knocker, and his heart beat wildly as the door 
 was opened by a liveried servant, who, after re- 
 ceiving his card, disappeared up the broad, pol- 
 ished stairway, after bidding him be seated, 
 which invitation, however, was ignored; for 
 
 I 
 
 who, under the circumstances, could be expected 
 to quietly sit down and calmly wait? Nervously 
 he paced the wide, old-fashioned hallway, seem- 
 ingly intent upon studying the engravings with 
 which the walls were covered. Yet, while he 
 seemed to be occupied in studying the details and 
 minor arrangements of his surroundings, his
 
 246 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 mind was ever on the alert for the slightest sign 
 of life from the direction whence the servant had 
 vanished with his card. He mechanically 
 studied the pictures and antiques within the 
 wide and spacious hallway, while he fancied he 
 saw her whom he worshipped since his boyhood 
 descending that dark, polished stairway, arrayed 
 in a robe of a soft, filmy white, to greet him. 
 Would she greet him with the gladness of the 
 days of old, or would she appear in the mannered 
 veneer and affected role considered so eminently 
 correct? 
 
 But further speculation was brought to a close 
 by the reappearance of the servant, who gravely 
 bowed and motioned him to the studio upstairs, 
 where Miss Manley would see him. Slowly and 
 with measured tread he crept up that ancient 
 spiral stairway with a beating heart and wavering 
 hopes. Would she recognize him as the one to 
 whom she addressed that stanza years ago, 
 wherein she had stated that "her quenchless 
 memory should always turn to him with undj'ing 
 love?" Vaguely, as in a dream, he remembered 
 her within the leafy by-ways of the sylvan dells 
 environing the Nippanose Valley. And now, 
 after many years, with wealth, and the world with 
 its pleasures at his command, he was yet un- 
 happy, because the love of his youth had out
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 247 
 
 grown him and shone like a star, serene and afar. 
 But he was now calling upon Miss Manley, the 
 artist, at her invitation and for a business pur- 
 pose. As far as he was concerned, it would all 
 depend upon the artist whether any allusion to 
 the days gone by was to be made. He found 
 not a little encouragement in the thought that 
 he was in a position to assume the condescending 
 air, if occasion should so require ; he, the rich 
 patron, she, the artist, with a work to dispose 
 of but a picture that for him was emblematic 
 of more than the world even faintly imagined. 
 "A Ruined Castle," but what a world of loving 
 hopes and mouldering dreams were thus typified 
 upon that canvas for him a castle by whose side 
 and within whose very environment he had reared 
 one, in fancy, whose fair-mantled towers and 
 dream-haunted chambers had outshone all the 
 castles of fair fancy's domain! His castle was 
 also a ruin, whose sweet remembrance was called 
 to life by the picture, like the scent of the rose, 
 faint and sweet. 
 
 Thus thought John von Malthaus as he entered 
 that studio whose polished floor shone like a 
 mirror, and whose furnishings were those of the 
 typical studio, with their [half-finished pictures, 
 their models in clay, and conventional skins and 
 rugs. Several easy-chairs invited to repose, but
 
 248 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 he remained standing for the reason that his call 
 was a formal and business one, which, of course, 
 did not call for the familiarity and ease which 
 the ensconcement in one of these easy-chairs 
 would imply. Just within the doorway he 
 stood, nervously waiting, when the silken cur- 
 tains at the side of the room were parted, and 
 Kuth Manley, the love of his youthful years, tall 
 and beautiful, arrayed exactly as he had fancied 
 she would be, in a material of a soft, clinging 
 white, more beautiful to him than ever, came 
 toward him with outstretched hands. 
 
 Her features had caught the sunrise and shone 
 transfigured in the morning glow; there was 
 within her, too, that other flame, the flame of 
 love, which also greeted its awakening da}'. 
 
 He advanced to meet her, and clasping each 
 other's hands, with laughter and tears, they 
 recalled those bj'gone days. Tender and beauti- 
 ful was that meeting, because Euth Manley had 
 always loved him. Her love seemed to have 
 been smouldering all these years, its supremacy 
 retarded by the distraction attendant upon the ac- 
 quisition of worldly ways and knowledge; but the 
 responsive flame burst into life at the sight of 
 that bronzed and stalwart man, in whom her 
 heart recognized the love of old. 
 
 Together they dwell within that same old man-
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 249 
 
 sion on Rittenhouse Square, wherein the studio 
 is preserved exactly as it was on that summer's 
 day when John von Malthaus realized the ful- 
 fillment of dreams dreamed through long, weary 
 years hopes that would have been realized 
 without the aid of worldly gold, for the reason 
 that a loyal and sincere heart, had it had the 
 temerity to approach, would have been greeted 
 equally as joyously, and accorded an equally 
 blissful welcome; because Ruth Manley was a 
 womanly woman, devoid of that gloss which 
 makes unreal so many personalities, and warps 
 the lives of countless people who would other- 
 wise prove delightful and interesting, but who 
 smother their inmost selves, striving to appear 
 what they cannot be, seeking in vain to combat 
 conditions imposed by nature, and who cast to 
 the winds modesty and refinement woman's 
 greatest charm sacrificing original ideas and 
 thoughts, likes and dislikes, in the pursuit of the 
 phantom of up-to-date form and deportment, 
 supposed to tend toward ends progressive. 
 
 Miss Manley was a womanly woman, and as 
 such she loved and married a manly man, and 
 her life overflows with all earthly bliss. The 
 hobbies and foibles of a vain and dissembling 
 world, the unconcealed contempt for each other, 
 of silly and irreverent "smart folk," the innu-
 
 250 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 merable pathetic and heart-weary struggles to 
 appear "in society" only to be snubbed by 
 equally aspiring compatriots whenever an op- 
 portunity presents itself, are as naught to them. 
 But they dwell together in love and serenity, 
 treading life's pathway hand in hand, the retro- 
 spect of their lives enriched with the memories of 
 the peaceful valley and broad, flowing river of 
 the land that was known to their childhood, 
 whose remembrance tinged by the prismatic hues 
 of memory, is loving and tender. 
 
 Dame Endicott waa sorely tried when she 
 learned of the reconciliation, and vexed beyond 
 endurance at the result which attended the ban- 
 ishment of her niece out of the way of this sigh- 
 ing lover, only eventually to fall into his arms, 
 it seemed, beyond the reach of her preventive 
 measures. She dwells within the peak-gabled 
 farmhouse by the river, in proud seclusion, with 
 only Tige to receive the stern corrections which 
 she deems it her duty to administer whenever he 
 barks at the evening star or the rising moon 
 above the river ; for Dame Endicott is born to 
 administer corrections life's one, unfading 
 charm for her. 
 
 Dame von Malthaus peacefully sleeps beneath 
 the friendly shade of the whispering firs and the 
 fragrant bloom of the tiger-lilies. She passed
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 251 
 
 away one peaceful summer morning, firmly con- 
 vinced that the precious charm of the good Dr. 
 Poffenburgh had prevented her son from form- 
 ing a most undesirable alliance, and upon his 
 wise head were invoked numberless blessings. 
 She never wearied in thanking the Maker of all 
 things for his wonderful wisdom and goodness 
 in placing the wise and knowing witch doctor 
 among these hills, wherein the weird and 
 uncanny witches seemed to have made a strong- 
 hold they ever loath to leave, lingering with a 
 tenacity and in a security well-nigh distracting. 
 She died while patiently awaiting the result 
 of another charm which the wise doctor had 
 deftly created at her urgent solicitation, a charm 
 which was to bring back to her her boy once 
 more. Patiently, and tenderly had she waited, 
 cheered by the hope that its mystic influence 
 would restore unto her the child whom she, alas, 
 was never to behold in life again, and she died in 
 an undiminished faith in the wise doctor's skill, 
 notwithstanding the fact that it seemed a long 
 and weary while in effecting the return of the 
 prodigal. But she had always declared and 
 firmly believed that the wondrous charm of Dr. 
 Poffenburgh had effected a remarkable triumph 
 whose potency and authenticity none dared dis- 
 pute; for had not the rescue of her son, who had
 
 252 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 
 
 been on the verge of manning a person who was 
 known to be leagued with the witches been wit- 
 nessed by the whole country side? 
 
 Catharine Frornknecht still dwells within the 
 valley, her once blooming figure slowly develop- 
 ing sharp and angular lines, while her views are 
 becoming more skeptical and peppery day by 
 day. Dr. Poffenburgh and his reputed skill 
 within the realm of witchcraft is sorely and mer- 
 cilessly assailed by the ever-increasing sharpness 
 of her tongue. She has been known to openly 
 declare, time and again, that in her opinion that 
 acknowledged seer and most skillful of all witch 
 doctors was not possessed of sufficient brains to 
 reason unto his pretentious and deceptive self the 
 expediency of hoisting an umbrella to shield his 
 worthless person from the summer rains. So 
 vigorous is she in denouncing this wise and 
 heretofore widely respected personage that his 
 prestige is surely on the wane ; the tide of his 
 popularity which had swept all before it is ebb- 
 ing day by day, as Catharine Fromknecht argues 
 and dwells upon the ineffectualness of his charm, 
 and the directly opposite results attending its 
 application, as was evidenced by the marriage 
 of John von Malthaus and Ruth Manley, that 
 remarkable maid from yonder valley, who it was 
 known for a certainty had had witches among
 
 DR. POFFENBURGH'S CHARM. 253 
 
 her ancestors. That her conclusive arguments 
 and damaging illustrations are bearing fruit \vas 
 quite plainly shown when Frau Warmkessel be- 
 came ill last "Whitsuntide with all the symptoms 
 that characterize the weirdness of a witch's spell, 
 and when, instead of sending for Dr. Poffen- 
 burgh, as had been customary ever since the 
 oldest member of the family could remember, the 
 virtuous dame was restored to health by the 
 means of copious draughts of boneset and catnip 
 tea, brewed and skillfully prepared under the 
 able direction of Catharine Fromknecht, while 
 ridiculing that hoary and venerable seer, refer- 
 ring to him as Dr. Fiddlesticks, and his charm as 
 "Nix Kum Rouse," 
 
 THE END.
 
 Petronilla, the Sister. 
 
 By Emma Homan Thayer. 
 doth, 51.25. 
 
 v 
 
 Mrs. Thayer's art books have made for her a 
 world-wide reputation as a writer, and an illustra- 
 tor of the wildnowers of America. " PetroniHa 1 * 
 is her first novel, and we can honestly recommend 
 it as a most delightful story indeed. The gifted 
 v :- - y lints huzim loves and vanities with much 
 the same dexterity she has exhibited as an artist in 
 delineating the delicate hues of the modest wfld- 
 flowers she so fondly worships. We take pleasure 
 in recommending so chaste and interesting a story 
 to the public. In this day of erotic literature such 
 a book is doubly welcome, and "Petronilla" is of 
 such a character as to hold the reader's attention to 
 the last page. The scenes are laid in New York 
 City, with a bright and spicy visit on a ranch in the 
 mountains of Colorado, a region in which the writer 
 is evidently at home. The illustrations, some forty 
 in number, partly by the author, and ably abetted 
 by the well-known artist, Remington W. Lane, add 
 piquancy to the letterpress. 
 
 For ale everywhere, or meat port-paid am receipt f price. 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 
 Qn Street, London. 114 Fifth Aveno New
 
 A Journey to Venus. 
 
 By O. W. POPE. 
 
 Paper, 250. 
 Neely's Popular Library wftt full page illustrations. 
 
 Lovers of Jules Verne will gladly welcome 
 this remarkable volume. Many have declared 
 that Dr. Pope has even outdone the French 
 master at his own art At any rate the narrative 
 is written with an air of candor that almost com- 
 pels a blind belief in its truth, although the ad- 
 ventures which befall the daring travelers to the 
 glorious planet are staggering in the extreme. 
 Books of this character, while written with a 
 considerable latitude, contain many features of 
 deepest interest, showing how far science has 
 gone in its eager quest for the truth in relation 
 with our neighboring planets, we may never 
 know the truth with regard to Mars and Venus 
 and Jupiter, but that is no reason we may not 
 speculate and endeaver to lift the veil that hangs 
 ever those bright worlds that glow and sparkle 
 in the heavens. "A Journey to Venus" is an 
 extraordinary volume in many ways, and will 
 well repay a careful perusal 
 
 For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price. 
 
 P. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 
 f6 Queer Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New York*
 
 The Passing of Alixl 
 
 By MRS. MARJORIE PAUL. 
 
 Neely's Popular Library Paper, 350: 
 
 i 
 
 Newspaper comment may in some minds 
 count for little in settling the value of a novel, 
 but it at least shows the drift of public opinion. 
 Nothing but praise has been spoken of "The 
 Passing of Alix." To show the general trend of 
 this commendation we beg leave to publish a 
 single literary notice from a prominent journal : 
 
 ' ' A capital little book, that of Mrs. Marjorie Paul, just the light, 
 breezy sort one delights in reading when swinging idly in a 
 zephyr-tossed hammock in the early fall days, or before the crack- 
 ling wood fire of the winter hearth of a country house. Doubtless 
 many a copy will find its way into the satchel or handbag of 
 tourist and commercial traveler, to whom the weighty novel, writ- 
 ten with the evident intention of reforming this wicked and 
 ignorant world, seldom appeals." 
 
 " It is a story of a sensational character, but clean in thought 
 and pathetic in its conclusion. It is the story of a woman, and a 
 good one. It contains nothing that is sensational, but is full of 
 human interest, and holds the attention of the reader from start 
 'to finish. Besides telling the story, it teaches a lesson, but doe* 
 not sermonize. It is a book, in fact, which will interest all, and 
 furnishes the very best sort of light reading." 
 
 For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price. 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 
 96 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New York*
 
 A 000110176 5